on the road...
Well hello again...
I'm in the big white van again, only this time I'm coming home. But don't tell. Because it's a massive April Fool's joke. We're in the middle of Georgia. Actually more like very southern Georgia.
But that's not important.
What's important is what I did in Mississippi. Which was mostly mudding sheetrock, sanding mud on sheetrock, loading and unloading sheetrock, and hanging sheetrock. Basically, anything that one can physically do with sheetrock, I did. And I was exhausted. And filthy. Absolutely filthy. Covered head to toe in fine white powder. I could touch my head, and a cloud of dust would circulate around my head. My entire body still aches. Muscles I didn't know I had ache. My one pair of jeans, with holes in both knees, well, now I have tan knees. That's the only sign of sunshine existing on my body. My knees.
But still not important.
What was important was how happy the people were when they'd stop by to see the progress we'd made on their houses. We were fed. We were hugged. We were kissed and praised and cried over. A woman, Kathy Parker, she had a huge house. It was disgusting because I guess she hadn't worked on it atall. She was barely five feet tall and probably 250 pounds. Her shed out back was full of chinawear, with puddles of Katrina water still sitting there. None of it had been touched since the storm. She was obviously extraordinarily lazy. Almost immobile. Ridiculously awkward. But nonetheless, she cried when the insulation was installed. She cried when the sheetrock was hung. And on the last day, she cooked us (all 20 of us who were working on that house) crawfish etouffe (it's french. Pronounced eh-too-fay), shrimp creole, shrimp po'boys, crawfish po'boys, crab po'boys, fried dill pickles, "famous potatoes", sugar cookies and homefries. And Barq's rootbeer.
*Side note: Barq's rootbeer originated in Pascagoula, Mississippi. When it became popular, it was produced in regular soda cans, which replaced the original glass bottles (fact: it tastes better in the glass bottle). Residents of Pascagoula threw a fit, so the Barq's production company decided to continue to produce Barq's rootbeer in glass bottles ONLY in Pascagoula.*
I've got to tell you, guys. I cried when this woman presented an entire table of food for us. She didn't have to do anything. We had our cold cuts and peanut butter and jelly supplies...but she cooked us one of the best meals I've ever had. And PLENTY of it. She was only expecting eleven of us, and there were twenty of us. Everyone ended up full, and there was still food leftover.
There were countless other things like that that showed the immense gratitude of these people...Miss Nellie, an eighty-three year old woman whose house was ruined, told us she just wanted to move back home before she died, and now she hopefully could. She cooked us ribs, a cake, and brought us donuts and a stereo. Eighty-three years old and everyday she came to the job site. She gave every single one of us a hug and a kiss, as dirty and sweaty and smelly as we were.
It's just amazing, you guys. It really did change my life. I'm still the heathen I left Raleigh as, but I...I feel like maybe I changed someone's life this week. Whether it be Miss Nellie, who can die happy and content, or Kathy Parker, who can have her house back, or Miss Cynthia, whose mother doesn't have to be carried out of the FEMA trailer because she has a wheelchair and they couldn't build her a ramp. That's where I worked. All that's left in that house is painting, trim, and electrical and plumbing work. Miss Cynthia brought us donuts and pizza.
I also got to work on my Spanish. A lot. I already speak it when it's not necessary. But there were twelve people from a Methodist church in Reynosa, Mexico, which is a church that the church my dad belongs to, is in close contact with that came to help us. Only three of them spoke enough English worthy of note. Only four of us spoke enough Spanish worthy of note. It was an amazing experience. I learned so much. I learned that I can speak Spanish more coherently than I thought. They were all impressed. And I realized that a hug is a truly universal sign of love and compassion. The hugs from the Reynosa people before they left, those were the most genuine, heartfelt hugs I've ever felt in my life. That kind of caring...goes above and beyond any language barrier.
This is enough for now. So much happened. I really am a better person. But I'm not a Christian, and although I haven't smoked in eight days, I don't plan on keeping that up. Although I should.
I really love you all, and hope your spring break has been as fulfilling for you as mine has. Although, no offense, I doubt it has. I hope you all laughed a lot, got to know someone new, and learned something important about yourself. Even if you didn't, I hope you had time to relax.
I've missed you all. I really do hope you read all that. I took a long time writing it, and meant all of it, and hope you take the time to read about my experiences...
I love you.
I'm in the big white van again, only this time I'm coming home. But don't tell. Because it's a massive April Fool's joke. We're in the middle of Georgia. Actually more like very southern Georgia.
But that's not important.
What's important is what I did in Mississippi. Which was mostly mudding sheetrock, sanding mud on sheetrock, loading and unloading sheetrock, and hanging sheetrock. Basically, anything that one can physically do with sheetrock, I did. And I was exhausted. And filthy. Absolutely filthy. Covered head to toe in fine white powder. I could touch my head, and a cloud of dust would circulate around my head. My entire body still aches. Muscles I didn't know I had ache. My one pair of jeans, with holes in both knees, well, now I have tan knees. That's the only sign of sunshine existing on my body. My knees.
But still not important.
What was important was how happy the people were when they'd stop by to see the progress we'd made on their houses. We were fed. We were hugged. We were kissed and praised and cried over. A woman, Kathy Parker, she had a huge house. It was disgusting because I guess she hadn't worked on it atall. She was barely five feet tall and probably 250 pounds. Her shed out back was full of chinawear, with puddles of Katrina water still sitting there. None of it had been touched since the storm. She was obviously extraordinarily lazy. Almost immobile. Ridiculously awkward. But nonetheless, she cried when the insulation was installed. She cried when the sheetrock was hung. And on the last day, she cooked us (all 20 of us who were working on that house) crawfish etouffe (it's french. Pronounced eh-too-fay), shrimp creole, shrimp po'boys, crawfish po'boys, crab po'boys, fried dill pickles, "famous potatoes", sugar cookies and homefries. And Barq's rootbeer.
*Side note: Barq's rootbeer originated in Pascagoula, Mississippi. When it became popular, it was produced in regular soda cans, which replaced the original glass bottles (fact: it tastes better in the glass bottle). Residents of Pascagoula threw a fit, so the Barq's production company decided to continue to produce Barq's rootbeer in glass bottles ONLY in Pascagoula.*
I've got to tell you, guys. I cried when this woman presented an entire table of food for us. She didn't have to do anything. We had our cold cuts and peanut butter and jelly supplies...but she cooked us one of the best meals I've ever had. And PLENTY of it. She was only expecting eleven of us, and there were twenty of us. Everyone ended up full, and there was still food leftover.
There were countless other things like that that showed the immense gratitude of these people...Miss Nellie, an eighty-three year old woman whose house was ruined, told us she just wanted to move back home before she died, and now she hopefully could. She cooked us ribs, a cake, and brought us donuts and a stereo. Eighty-three years old and everyday she came to the job site. She gave every single one of us a hug and a kiss, as dirty and sweaty and smelly as we were.
It's just amazing, you guys. It really did change my life. I'm still the heathen I left Raleigh as, but I...I feel like maybe I changed someone's life this week. Whether it be Miss Nellie, who can die happy and content, or Kathy Parker, who can have her house back, or Miss Cynthia, whose mother doesn't have to be carried out of the FEMA trailer because she has a wheelchair and they couldn't build her a ramp. That's where I worked. All that's left in that house is painting, trim, and electrical and plumbing work. Miss Cynthia brought us donuts and pizza.
I also got to work on my Spanish. A lot. I already speak it when it's not necessary. But there were twelve people from a Methodist church in Reynosa, Mexico, which is a church that the church my dad belongs to, is in close contact with that came to help us. Only three of them spoke enough English worthy of note. Only four of us spoke enough Spanish worthy of note. It was an amazing experience. I learned so much. I learned that I can speak Spanish more coherently than I thought. They were all impressed. And I realized that a hug is a truly universal sign of love and compassion. The hugs from the Reynosa people before they left, those were the most genuine, heartfelt hugs I've ever felt in my life. That kind of caring...goes above and beyond any language barrier.
This is enough for now. So much happened. I really am a better person. But I'm not a Christian, and although I haven't smoked in eight days, I don't plan on keeping that up. Although I should.
I really love you all, and hope your spring break has been as fulfilling for you as mine has. Although, no offense, I doubt it has. I hope you all laughed a lot, got to know someone new, and learned something important about yourself. Even if you didn't, I hope you had time to relax.
I've missed you all. I really do hope you read all that. I took a long time writing it, and meant all of it, and hope you take the time to read about my experiences...
I love you.