Wednesday, November 16, 2005
The Facade of Normalcy
Yesterday I was thinking about the lack of normalcy, and I have continued to ponder what "normal" is. I know what I'd like "normal" to be, and we almost never experience normal as I would like it. Even so, I think that there are some bare minimums in modern society that I think we could all agree upon -- like having a house, let alone electricity and water, for example -- and that bare minimum, and then some, is what was removed in 10 hours.
And everybody notices it, and knows about it, and only people from "outside" talk about it. Everyone else knows it is gone, and are afraid that it will never be back. At least, I think (and I am guessing, really, since nobody talks about it) that people are afraid that it won't be back. Maybe they are afraid that even if it comes back, they won't be able to trust that it won't be taken away again.
People act differently in trying to regain the facade of normalcy. Some people have run away, and are apparently trying to recreate normalcy somewhere else. Today, we visited a parishioner whom no one has heard from since the hurricane. We knocked on the door, and there was honestly no sign of activity since the storm. A child's inflatable basketball hoop was tangled in her tree (I untangled it). Windows were open, blinds were torn down, even the refrigerator in the kitchen had been toppled over by the force of the wind, apparently. Chairs and items were all over the house, and the portion of the room missing shields was not covered and protected by a FEMA blue tarp that you see all over the place. I hope they are alright.
If some people try to find normalcy by escaping, others (I think) try to find it by working long hours and by expending heroic levels of energy in trying to recreate it. I am constantly amazed by all of the work that everyone is doing here. It is amazing.
Back to the difference between outsiders and locals of discussing normalcy,
It is amazing how close to everyone the storm is at all times. Oh, and the server's name was Katrina, but she had since changed her name and nametag to "Kat." None of us would have guessed that. Even so, one of the other pastors asked her name. She wouldn't tell us. After a few questions, she "jokingly" said that she had to change it back to "Kat" after the storm. It was only then that we figured it out. She said that people were hassling her and asking if she had a sister named Rita
Golly, I keep trying to bring some levity to my notes, but it just won't seem to come...Sorry...
Michael <><
And everybody notices it, and knows about it, and only people from "outside" talk about it. Everyone else knows it is gone, and are afraid that it will never be back. At least, I think (and I am guessing, really, since nobody talks about it) that people are afraid that it won't be back. Maybe they are afraid that even if it comes back, they won't be able to trust that it won't be taken away again.
People act differently in trying to regain the facade of normalcy. Some people have run away, and are apparently trying to recreate normalcy somewhere else. Today, we visited a parishioner whom no one has heard from since the hurricane. We knocked on the door, and there was honestly no sign of activity since the storm. A child's inflatable basketball hoop was tangled in her tree (I untangled it). Windows were open, blinds were torn down, even the refrigerator in the kitchen had been toppled over by the force of the wind, apparently. Chairs and items were all over the house, and the portion of the room missing shields was not covered and protected by a FEMA blue tarp that you see all over the place. I hope they are alright.
If some people try to find normalcy by escaping, others (I think) try to find it by working long hours and by expending heroic levels of energy in trying to recreate it. I am constantly amazed by all of the work that everyone is doing here. It is amazing.
Back to the difference between outsiders and locals of discussing normalcy,
- At evening prayer, one volunteer from SC spoke about how long it would take to return to normalcy.
- This afternoon, when visiting a worksite, a worker from Ohio described a moment last night with the owners, when they shared a glass of wine on what is left of their deck (2/3 of it is 25 feet away, standing on its concrete moorings and wood pilings, as if it walked over and leaned against the neighbor's house). As they stared across the bay and watched the moon rise, he said that maybe there was just a touch of normalcy, and an ever-so-slight glimmer of hope that it might return.
- The only local that ever came close to saying the word was the receptionist at the Ocean Springs Chamber of Commerce. Remember, she is paid to be positive and hopeful! She said to me today, "There is even a lot of traffic back on the streets now. See, things are starting to get back to..." After her voice trailed off, she stared and looked at some faraway place for a few seconds. Finally, she said, "Well, it's like I say, 'It is what it is.'"
- The Distribution Center gives food, cleaning supplies, or whatever to anyone who drives up and asks for it. Some people are desparate; some people are just desparate for someone to talk with them and listen. Another family, through tears, relayed that the food had allowed her and her husband to save up enough money to roof their house. Yesterday the line was 45 minutes long at one point. One woman was so distressed and anxious that she literally got sick in her car while she was waiting.
- At one house, the crew leader remarked that he was stunned by the irony, when he noticed the homeowner had a bag with aluminum cans saved for recycling in a plastic bag. All of her possessions were destroyed, and the entire bottom half of her house (drywall, insulation, chimney, etc.) was missing, destroyed my Mother Nature, and yet here she was trying to do her part to save the very environment that wrecked her house.
- There was so much water in one house, even almost 3 months after the storm, that they were pulling 3 foot sections of floor insulation that weighed 30 pounds. As they pulled the drywall, the water would literally poor out in gallons. Tomorrow, they will spray bleach.
It is amazing how close to everyone the storm is at all times. Oh, and the server's name was Katrina, but she had since changed her name and nametag to "Kat." None of us would have guessed that. Even so, one of the other pastors asked her name. She wouldn't tell us. After a few questions, she "jokingly" said that she had to change it back to "Kat" after the storm. It was only then that we figured it out. She said that people were hassling her and asking if she had a sister named Rita
Golly, I keep trying to bring some levity to my notes, but it just won't seem to come...Sorry...
Michael <><
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Greetings Pastor Mike!
Never officially blogged before...bear with me. Just wanted to say I appreciate your efforts to get the word out to everyone, and this is a great way to do it. Reading everyone's posts has brought so much back...but glad that you can physically help...more satisfying than telling people that they "may" get a check in the mail "soon". Say hi to the gang and hang in there!
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Never officially blogged before...bear with me. Just wanted to say I appreciate your efforts to get the word out to everyone, and this is a great way to do it. Reading everyone's posts has brought so much back...but glad that you can physically help...more satisfying than telling people that they "may" get a check in the mail "soon". Say hi to the gang and hang in there!
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