#12 Day Two: Orient Yourself

At the shelter I sat up talking to "Alex" and "Amy ", until very late. At about midnight, "Alex" hushed us, and told us to listen. In about a minute a loud crackling and rushing shot through the large air conditioning vent above us. It sounded like an alien roaring through the vent. Everyone in the room shot up in their beds, and then lay back again to sleep. It happens twice every night.

Woke up the next morning to the woman next to me bumping my bed while she was getting dressed. I opened my eyes to see a great big mostly naked butt, practically in my face. Closed my eyes quickly and rolled over. Jeeeeeezzz........ Good morning. It was 5 am.

The shelter told us to pack all of our things, and take them with us, in case we weren't going to be coming back to that shelter. Sleeping bags, pads clothes, everything. I, "Amy", "Paul","Wanda", and a new guy, "Rolf" from Alaska crawled into the car and took off. FIgure of speech. Got to headquarters after an hour and a quarter's drive in miserable traffic.

Sat through an orientation. Sat through a second different orientation. Sat through the first shelter assignments for the day. We were not assigned to a shelter.Sat through a third orientation by "Client Services", the department that I am to work with. Still no assignments for anyone, but then we just got there.

"Paul" and I decided to go ahead and take the "Supervisor" orientation. Thought we were both going to slide off of our chairs into a stupor. It was very badly taught. The class kept on having to correct the instructors instructions. "Paul" had acted as a supervisor previously. He kept on saying with surprise, "Hey, that isn't right", and then proceeded to correct her again. It was a long long class.

Went back for another orientation. Still no assignment. Heard from "Wanda", that "Amy" had gotten assigned to a shelter in the south. We wouldn't see her again.

I have noticed a few things: Disorganization is an overriding theme. Hard and fast "rules", change from day to day, hour to hour. No one knows what the next person is doing until they are doing it there, right this minute. People have sat for as many as 5 days before getting assigned. We'll see. Another thing the Red Cross seems to breed, is people who are unable to delegate. They insist on crossing every T, and dotting every i all by them selves. This leads to an incredible backup of process, as no one person is capable of adequately handling the volume of information and logistics that this has generated.

There is also a problem with the staff tossing newbies into the fire without adequate training or information. At the Slidell location deep in southeast Louisiana, this led to at least 5 people collapsing from the heat, and being sent out of the area. In this location, information was taken from clients, in a drive through set up. It ended up in chaos, as some waiting for hours with their families in their hot cars were turned away. The next day, the head of that project described it to a new group, as, "going beautifully!"

On the other hand, we have sheltered more than 500, 000 people across the country, in last minute circumstances. Everyone works really hard, even if not a lot gets done in a timely manner. Ok, I am discouraged, but being politic.

Other than "Amy", the rest of us ended up there at headquarters all day, with no assignment. I think I can now confirm myself as "oriented". Hope there is at least somewhere I will go to help eventually, since this is what I came here for. Here I sit in Baton Rouge. All dressed up, and no where to go. Sorry this post isn't more interesting or amusing. I think they might have oriented it out of me at least for now.....
Best,

Lisa

#11 In Baton Rouge

The flight out to Atlanta was uneventful. I had a row to myself and relaxed. Reread all of my RC materials and reviewed. Second flight was a bouncy little prop plane with cramped seats. As we flew over Baton Rouge, I couldn't help thinking how dry and normal it looked. In fact, the only water I saw was a small pond that didn't look particularly menacing.

The normalcy of the airport struck me too. People milling around. Going about their business as though nothing had ever happened in Louisiana. I retrieved my luggage on one of two small platforms. As I went out of the doors to look for the shuttle. I was hit by a wave of hot humid air. Sweating started immediatelt. I was in Louisiana.

No shuttle. Figures. Sign posted says that the last one leaves at 5:30. It is 5:35. Figures again. I call the Red Cross line to call for a shuttle. A message machine picks up stating that no one is avaialable, and that the message recorder is full. I start laughing. I started to call the after hours number, expecting about the same, when I see the shuttle.

Although I hadn't seen any of them before, there ended up being 5 of us in the van. We came from all over. One even from Canada. I struck up a friendship with a blond woman from California named, "Amy". She had somehow managed to pack everything she needed for her 10 day deployment, into a rolling book bag. I was impressed. Needless to say I overpacked, and it was not in a book bag.

We drove to the headquarters of the Red Cross. Still, everything looked normal. Driving up to the door, that changed. HQ is located in an old Wal-Mart. It looked like we were deploying for war. there was a guard outside, checking ID. You went in, lined up your luggage in the outside section, and went in. There were tables and people everywhere. Lines of people leading up to them, and loads of others in RC vest walking from one station to the next.

I logged in, did a short interview, and moved to the next staion, where I was placed in a staff shelter in Denham Springs, at a Baptist church, who's name I still keep on forgetting. The next stop was to have my picture taken, and get an ID. From there, to CLS, the department that used to be called "family services" . I registered there, and started to schmooze. It pays to schmooze. I ended up with a car to drive. I rounded up our group and a few others, and away we went.

It was a long drive to the Staff shelter. Our group consisted of "Amy", "Paul", who had come down from Alberta Canada, "Kathy", a quiet rangey woman from South Dakota, decked head to toe in Red Cross regalia, and "Wanda", a young, slightly overweight woman from Moussourri...I know...I spelled that wrong....Most of the talking on the way over was about where the heck we were going.

The directions were terrible. One said,"go a short way". The "short way" was 3 miles. We finally arrived, the church was out in east nowhere. Not many people outside, it looked pretty calm. Walking in, that changed. The floor was covered in metal cots with bodies in them. Men and women. I signed in, and went to the women only section.

I found a cot in the middle of the small sea of women, found a squishy air matress and started to drag out my stuff and set up. After setting up, I went to find "Amy" and "Paul" to drag them out for something to eat. I found "Amy" sitting on a cot, talking avidly with a young man that I was later introduced to as "Alex". I told her that I needed to get something to eat, and asked if they would like to go with me.

After some hemming and hawing, the two came along, sans "Paul". We went to a local joint where the waitress promptly dropped a bottle of Hot Sauce on the floor next to me. It went all over my foot. There I was, baptized with hot sauce. Welcome to Louisiana. Dinner was steamed shrimp and fried alligator. Yeah, you read it right. Fried alligator. Don't start.

We talked at dinner, we found that we had come out for pretty much the same reasons, a combination of curiosity and altruism. "Alex was an IT guy from Boston. "Amy", was from Orange County. She had quit her job as a teacher a year ago, and now imported something comprised of earls and magnets, or something like that from China. She loved her job. Hse told us that she had taken a year off once and back packed across Australia. That was pretty interesting.

Back at the shelter, the lights were out. I found my bed, and went to take a shower with the help of "Alex's" loaned flashlight. Four showers for 100 people. We were comparatively lucky. Some staff shelters had no showers. Wish they had as many plugs for powering up our phones. It took a while, to settle in, but I finally managed. I forget...... people snore. Hope I don't. More later,

Take care,

Lisa

#10 A Word About the Red Cross

I really don't want to be a complainer. Ok...now you know that I plan to complain. (Here it comes) But I had to write this before I go off to Baton Rouge, to put some of what I have and will write about in perspective. There is a word I would like to mention in regard to the Red Cross. The word I would like to stamp...by hand, on every article item and form and some of the staff of the great and powerful OZ...I mean....Red Cross.... is "antique"." Antique" about sums it up. I read the word in a recent article I came across in The New York Times, recounting the recent ejecting of the Red Cross from a Georgia shelter, due to ineptitude. I couldn't agree with it more.

The Red Cross is a lumbering dinosaur, where Luddites abound, knuckles are blithely dragged and much like most of the administration presently in Washington, where the principles of Darwin could never be proved.

Lets start with this little revelation: All processing at the RC is done by hand and on paper forms....and I mean everything. As I have told you before: carbon paper is involved......excuse me while I go choke on that one more time. Let us now all have a moment of silence for the forests that have been eradicated in order to stock the Red Cross with once and future paperwork. Take your time.

Don't get me wrong, not that you could, there are computers in the place. However, they are seen for the most part, only on the desks of the staff, for their own mysterious use. No "client" or volunteer processing that I have seen, is done on a screen with a keyboard. Nor does anything resembling an intelligent design..(hic), include a template or database.

Passing the many idle, ancient PCs, I am sure they are occasionally used for looking up vital information, but a nagging sense of reality in the form of colored documents filled in by hand that virtually carpet the offices, almost forces me to suspect that some of the old clunker PCs, see more solitaire games than interfacing.

Oh I take it back...sort of. In the Greater Los Angeles intake building on Wilshire Blvd, where upwards of 1000 of the current California total evacuees of approximately 1600 have been processed, there is one computer that gets regular use. It is old. That one computer, is used by volunteers, Some of whom, are not what even my long dead grandmother would call "proficient". Their job is use this one computer to search on-line for the records of all evacuees who come in with no identification, so that they can be properly processed. It takes forever.

In the case of my personal processing experience, it has worked out to about 2 clients in 8. You do the math, I still count on my fingers.

Once the ever so long and large first form...the one with the unmentionable disposable part that starts with "c", is laboriously filled out by hand by a volunteer interviewing a client, the volunteer then hands that form to a second volunteer, who's job it is to also file the oddly shaped c-copied pink section of the first form in a small worn box, with small, frayed, paper, alphabetically tabbed separators. Did you get all of that? Me neither.

That volunteer, when notified by a third volunteer, hands the form to a fourth volunteer who then walks around the room calling the name of the hapless client who may have gone outside for a smoke. When the client is found, he, she or they, are walked over to another room, where they sit at a table with a stack of forms, with a fifth, and possibly a sixth volunteer.


Volunteer six then goes over form #1 all over again, just to be sure volunteer one did it correctly. Vol. six then proceeds to ask the client many more questions, and fill out many more forms. All by hand. Housing, medical and a few more that I can't recall just now, or would like to forget.

At the end of the large form, form #1, there are two places to sign. One space is if you want your private information to go to FEMA, the other is to acknowledge that the information contained in the form is accurate.The volunteer filling out the form signs on behalf of the Red Cross.

Note: FEMA is a part of the Federal Government. The Red Cross is not. If you are an illegal alien, and have signed the FEMA release section without being fully informed of who exactly FEMA is, then the government now has all of your personal information. Including where to find you. Few volunteers will fully inform you of that. Few volunteers know.

When all possible permutations of forms have been duly filled out, vol. six then walks the paperwork over to an office called, "the bank", seats the client outside, and delivers the paperwork which consists of the first gigantoid hard form folded, which is then used as an ersatz folder to contain the rest of the forms. How ingenious. If you are a monkey. Or perhaps if this was 1850.

The folder/form with all of the paperwork therin, is then placed in a metal tray. That operation involves lifting up all of the other ersatz, paper-filled folders with one hand, or two if you must, putting the new one at the bottom of the tray, and then replacing the rest of the e-folders,("e" is for "ersatz", get it?), back on top of the first, so that the folders will be handled in order. Woof.

The actual money giving is pretty fast. once the "bank" officer, who is a staff member, gets the file they review it for accuracy. Hopefully the "bank officer", was a professional decoder in their last life, as not all handwriting is legible. After all is confirmed, the client is brought in and given a debit card with a set amount of dollars, determined by the number of family members on that first form. Money. Cool. Besides their old life back, just what they wanted.

At that point, if medical aid is needed, the client is walked over with some of the first papers filled out to the Nurse's station, where more questions will be asked, more forms will be filled out, appointments will be made, and housing will be found.

Although things seem to go fairly quickly at our office, riots and near riots have broken out at shelters with the waiting, from what I have read and heard. People with too much time on their hands start to talk among themselves about what might be going on during the wait.

Think of the old game "post office", where one player whispers information into the ear of the next person, who whispers into the ear of the next...well...you've got the idea. Now think of that on a large scale, only the players are disaster victims who have lost everything but the clothes on their backs.

The evacuees are tired, stressed and depressed. Not all are well educated. They are all however, in a beureaucratic maze that they can't begin to find their way through alone, much less understand. It is supremely frustrating. There is a shortage of trained volunteers, emphasis on the word, "trained", and believe it or not, a shortage of money. One day, they might be us. Lets hope something changes before then.

Did I forget to mention, if a volunteer somehow fills out a form incorrectly, they are supposed to tear it up and start over again? Oddly, there is a continual shortage of forms. Loads of recycling materials though.

The Red Cross should take a page from IKEA. You know, the giant Swedish home furnishing store who somehow manage to take your order upstairs and get it downstairs without someone having to walk it there. The only paper a client or staff sees at IKEA, is the receipt at the end.

So..... what happens to all of these forms you ask? Didn't think about it yet did you? Think about it. Take your time. Are your eyes getting wider by the minute at the probability? That's right. They are filed. By hand. Miles of files. All hand written, some difficult to read. All involving carbon paper copies. They are also mis-filed, they are also lost. there is no backup system. Take a minute to get your breath back, as at this point you are either stunned, stupified, or laughing your self into a pile on the floor.

I will have to guess what happens next, as I don't actually know, and haven't gotten around to asking yet. I believe, back in some room, somewhere computers have been invented, all of the mountains of handwritten pages are somehow deciphered by some poor lost mole and entered into some obscure database that few will ever be able to find again.

The doing of this must take entire careers. Entire lifetimes for that matter. Legions. The Red Cross headquarters must be filled to the brim with handwritten folders, notes and other archaic, traditon-bound paperwork. No one had better light a match in the joint.

On one hand, the agency is completely dedicated to helping victims of disaster. Volunteers are for the most part accurate and empathetic. Staff is overworked and underpaid. From what I have seen first hand, Everyone truly does do their best. Money goes to who it should go to. People are helped.

On the other hand, could someone please call the Red Cross and let them know that we have passed the turn of the century? Oh, and could you also mention to them, that its the 21st century, not the last one?


Best,

Lisa

#9 I've been Deployed

Got the call today, at about 6 pm. The woman on the other end of the line sounded franitic. She said, "Hi, is this Lisa? I'm "Betty", from the Red Cross. We need to deploy you immediately to Baton Rouge. I want you in the air by Sunday at the latest". Kinda figured that might happen with the new storm Rita coming in, and another named Philippe heading for Florida. Hadn't heard that yet, have you?

She proceeded to give me a list of things to know and remember. Disaster number, my personal number, number for the travel agency, number for the hotline telling me what to bring. Number to call her. Way too many numbers if you ask me.

I was to call the travel agency and get the first flight out Sunday. This proved impossible, as for some ungodly reason, all of the flights available were booked solid. Not helped by the fact that several airlines routed their Baton Rouge flight through Houston...whoops. So, I can't get out until Tuesday at the earliest.

The flight is booked. It cost $863 dollars. Luckily within the $900 flight budget allotted. $900! The last time I spent $900 on a flight, I was going to Nagoya, Japan, not Baton Rouge Louisiana. Who in their right mind would spend that much to get to Louisiana, especially in a disaster situation? One would think the going-bankrupt-quickly airlines might be lending a hand in these troubled times. I guess they don't see it as their problem. Guess when they finally do go completely bankrupt, we won't see that as our problem.

After I booked the flights, I contacted the office to let them know when I would be out, but couldn't reach anyone. I then called my pal "Andy", who had been in Baton Rouge on deployment for the last few weeks.

Apparently what we hear on the news is not exactly an accurate depiction of what is going on out there. Quelle Surprise. Still bodies all over the place, and they are still going house to house in search of survivors.....and it just started raining again. They are sending him off to Houston on Sunday if Houston is still there.

I also called my gallery owner friend. Back, staying with friends just outside of New Orleans for right now, who describes her house and family cars as "toast". Opened her car where the water had gone to the dash. She said it was about 150 degrees inside the car. She said that it was full of sludge and black mold. In fact, she said her house was full of the same. Water had gone up about waist high in the house, but that was enough to destroy virtually everything.

I started called my family to let them know. One friend who called in the middle of it all, asked me if I had thought about the possibility that I might lose my life out there? Now that was what I needed to hear. A little dramatic, but no, I had not considered it. Of course I suppose I could get hit by a bus, or carjacked here just as well. In any case, I plan to continue not to consider it.

Spoke to my favorite head woman again. She called at about 7:30 pm. She had been there since 7:30 am. I am anointing her queen of the planet, or at least submitting her for sainthood. She is taking a few days off before the onslaught begins anew. About time. These guys are totally and completely swamped. If you have a few hours, go in and answer phones or something.

So that's it for now. I might go in tomorrow for more hands on experience. I have an orientation on Saturday, taught by either the ranting woman or the guy who speaks little english. Should be edifying. I hope it is.

There they will give me my deployment papers, and my RC charge card to be used for necessities while on deployment. Like food. Wonder how they will do that if the power goes out again?

I am a little nervous, can you tell? I am sure that they must know what they are doing, but occasionally, it does look from this end as though the monkeys are running the zoo. Like I said...can all of you go in for a few hours and help out there? I will be less nervous if I know my friends are helping to run the joint....lol.

I will again let you know more when I know more.

Best,

Lisa

#8 How Things Work...or Don't

Well...

Another day, another load of paperwork....and people. Worked all afternoon at the Family Services center. This time as a caseworker. Intake was a whole lot easier. After this day, I would look back at the one carbon paper form that I had been using, wistfully.

Before going into work, I first stopped at the main office to talk with the head of services. I happened to walk in at the same time as "Anna", who had just returned from her deployment in Louisiana. It did not sound pretty. Nowhere to sleep, services overwhelmed, teeth to be brushed with bottled water only. Someone even approached her with a kinfe. Still, she said that they had done good things. She welcomed the chance to return as soon as they would let her. "Anna" is 66, and about 5' tall.

As I left, crossed the street, and walked down the alley to the entrance of the Family Services Center, I encountered one of our mental health professionals standing there. His name is "Arthur". "Arthur" is somewhere between 65 and 70 years old. He stands about 6' 3", has a much too long shock of white hair, a large moustache, watery blue eyes and an unfortunate prediliction to brightly patterned sweater vests.

He motioned me over to him, and as is his habit, looked deeply into my eyes and took my hand. Never letting go of my hand, still looking at me with a heavy demeanor of concern, (one, by the way, that he always has, even if he is only asking the way to the bathroom), he told me that we had a suicidal woman in the buiding. Could I go inside the building and find "Josiah", the other mental health worker and send him out? As he said this, a black and white squad car turned into the alley. Things were off to a roaring start.

I retrieved my hand, rushed into the building, and began to canvas the rooms. I finally found, "Josiah" in a hallway, sitting with a woman who was clearly beside herself. She was weeping. I gently pulled him to one side, and very quietly told him that the police had arrived. To my surprise, he nodded his head and left to go outside, leaving her alone.

Not sure what to do, given the information I was told, I went over to sit and talk with the woman. I introduced myself, and asked how I could help her. There was no calming her down, so I just kept on talking. Those of you who know me well are laughing now,(or wincing), because you know just how well I can do that.

I told her that I knew how she felt. That we had many clients that had no ID, and we were still successful at putting them through after a computer search. I told her that I had been in disasters myself, and had needed the Red Cross' help. I started to ask her questions. I just kept on talking, she just kept on crying. Finally she began to respond.

She said that she had no ID, she had just moved to Louisiana from Arkansas and her husband had disappeared during the storm. She still didn't know where he was. She was a mental health caseworker herself. She told me that she had kids, and could give me the number where they were staying. She couldn't believe that she was in this position.

I asked if they had any utilities yet, as we can look up utilities. The answer was no. She changed several parts of her story just slightly, remembering a few things that she hadn't remembered before. Some of those things would help her.

As we kept talking, she calmed down considerably and stopped crying. I took her into the computer room, introduced her, and they started the search. As I was leaving, I turned and saw that she was calm, eagerly talking to the computer tech, handing her what few papers she had. I went outside.

I found both mental health guys in the parking lot talking to the police. I noticed that one of the officers held a bag chock full of pill bottles. Not just a few pill bottles, I mean about twenty pill bottles. They were hers. When she was told that she couldn't be helped without ID, she had gone off crying while the volunteers were trying to figure out the next step in helping her.

Someone had seen her pull out the bag, take out a bottle, uncap it, and pour out a handful of pills into her palm. She had a bottle of water. That was when one of the staff was called to intervene. I stumbled on the scene right after.

The police and the mental health workers talked among themselves and to me. The psychologists felt that although she had calmed down, they couldn't risk her perhaps hurting herself, or someone else, so the decision was made to take her into the hospital for observation. I went back to work.

Later I found out that she had not gone easily. There was quite a scene. The pills that had been in those bottles, were mostly painkillers. Vicodin, Demerol, etc... They were in her name, and came from pharmacies in Arkansas and Los Angeles. Nothing from Louisiana.

Someone finally reached her son at the number she gave in Los Angeles. We assumed from what she said, that he had been evacuated too. He lives here. He thought that she lived here. He said that he hadn't seen or heard from his mother in eight years.

The consensus in the end was that she was local, and she had some serious emotional problems. Speaking with the computer tech, "Sandia", she mentioned that the woman kept on changing her story over and over again. I might hear later how it turned out. I might not.

This is only one kind of situation that comes up in a disaster recovery. Everyone and everything comes out of the woodwork. It is one of our jobs to separate those truly in need from the local knuckleheads and those, local and otherwise, whose emotional stability could use some help.

From what I heard one of the local knuckleheads had come in the day before. he was 16. Tried to claim that he was a "head of household", and put in a claim for himself and his 5 children. When the staff stoped laughing, they threw him out.

Oh...I did hear about "Deewain"....from a few days ago..... After I had to leave, another mental health worker did show up, looked for him and spent quite some time talking to him. He has appointments to go back all of this week. He was given his debit card, and housing. Clothes were found for him. So that at least is good news.

Finally I got to the casework. What a lot of forms!!

First, you review the intake form. Every line. "Just in case". I found there was a lot of "just in case" to correct. Then you make a copy of their ID, and any cross references needed to verify their ID. Then you finish filling out the very very long intake form.

Next there is a form for money and transportation, ranges from $350 for one person to a nice chunk of change for a family of five. After that, if needed, there is housing and medical and more. your hand could fall off from filling them out all day.

After you are finished with the forms, or......you have used up all of the ink in your pen from the filling, you walk the client over to Medical if they need it. There they are seen by a nurse who assesses their needs, and refers them. We pay for this.

When they are done there, you escort the client to the "bank". There, their case is again reviewed, and approved. They are given a debit card with the approved amount of money, and given their housing information and placement. From there we send the information to FEMA.

FEMA. What can I say? I can't. Voicing an opinion about another agency is a no no. FEMA has a 24 hour a day help line. From what the evacuees have told me, the only time that you have even the remotest chance of reaching FEMA is at 2 in the morning....on a phone that works....in an area that isn't affected......because the phones don't work if you are in an area that is affected...and if they do work, you'd still best call at 2 am.

On the other hand, you can get to FEMA by computer. That is if you own a computer.....or know how to use a computer......or are in an area that has electricity. Or computer service....where the server isn't down. Oh yeah....apparently, due to the large volume of people trying to access the FEMA site on line, the best time to access it is at 2 in the morning. Draw your own conclusions.

I did however talk to one client who called FEMA 30 or so times, was able to reach them, only to have them tell him that they had lost his case number when he reached them a second time after the next 46 calls. However, in cross referencing his ID through his bank, we found that FEMA had transferred $2000 into his bank account within two days of the first call to them. Just shows ta go ya.

In case you didn't know much about the Red Cross: There is a paid staff, but it is relatively small. Everyone else is a volunteer. All of the volunteers are unpaid. There are hundreds of volunteers. All of the money to help those in need, comes from your donations, and the vast majority of those donations get to who they are supposed to.

One of our jobs is to make sure...through paperwork, references and cross-references that those in need are who they say they are, so that your money and mine goes where its supposed to. Sometimes it takes more time that we would like it to, but all things considered, it is remarkably fast.

There is a lot more to tell...like about the guy who is a band manager and a minister that marries people on cruise ships. Who in trying to help 28 musicians from Louisiana, almost lost the funding for all of them....... and a lot more odd stories......but I have put too many words to pixels today, so they will have to wait. Don't want to bore you.

Until next time...

Take care,

Lisa

#7 More Info

Spent the day playing phone tag with the head of department. She of whom I cannot say enough good things. Apparently, because I had filled in the wrong answer in the right box, I was not to be deployed. She fixed it. On top of the 12 hour days and the memos screaming at her for attention on her desk that were certainly more pressing than I, she fixed it. Amazing.

As the fix involved finagling, we won't go into it, except to say that we love logic, and we love finaglers.

Of course the rest of the day wwas intermitently spent trying to get signed on for one more day of work....and that was another story.

I called 5 different numbers, got five different people, none of whom knew that the Red Cross has a Family Services department, much less where it might be. Then those 5 transferred me over to another 5, who didn't know any more than the first 5.

Sigh.....Bureaucracy as run by volunteers. Inexperienced volunteers smashed in the face by a situation no one anticipated. Who knew? Anyway....How do you drill for the end of the world?

So the upshot of the day is: I am approved to go.......buuuuuttt...they still may not call me up for deployment. My frind Karen was asked to give the dates that she is available, I was not. So, it is looking more and more as though I will be staying here.

I plan to go into the RC tomorrow to do casework for a few hours. If perchance they do send me, I will hopefully be better prepared. If not, as one friend said: I have been deployed.

L

#6 Intake in Los Angeles

Hi guys,

Woof.....This will be a long one. Where do I start? Wednsday, I
went in to the downtown Red Cross office to do the volunteer work
they had requested of me. I was supposed to work a10 hour day as a
case worker, processing evacuees. Didn't work out that way.

I arrived late, as the one and one half hour commute to get
there was actually a two hour commute during rush hour. Not fun. Oh
well. First group I encountered was at the front of the building. Red
Cross volunteers like myself. They mostly just looked at me as though
I had just gotten off of the mother ship. Except for this one
enormous man at the front with a shaved head, that was wearing a
badge bearing the name, "Fridge". So he was. The two of us would
have made a good circus act. I am 5'3", and 100 pound. He was easily
quadruple that..... eek. Our official greeter. "Fridge" was very
friendly.

Next, I went into the meeting room where the orientation meeting
that I had just missed was wrapping up. What did I miss? Never found
out.

As things unwound, I was assigned to " Karol", who was a Red
Cross staff member that I mistook for a volunteer. Ooops. He reenacts
mideaval battles and swordplay in his spare time.He spent a little
time telling me about the kind of longbow that he uses. Oh...by the
way, I am changing everyone's name in this narrative, to protect
both the innocent and the inept.

I was following "Karol" around, about to begin processing, when
someone commented that "Tony", one of the supervisors needed help
with intake. In the end, that is where I spent my day. Intake. Not
what I came in for, but that's where they needed the most help.

I sat myself down at a table for 6. three of us on one side,
three clients on the other. "Tony" placed a form...that I had seen
once briefly in training in front of me...the big cartoon one with
the carbon paper, (figures that I would get that one), and called
the first client. From there, I was pretty much on my own. Lord help
them.

Luckily for everyone involved, the form was fairly self
explanitory,(although apparently not to everyone. THe lead case
worker came in later that day, just to tell me that she loved me, as
apparently, I was the only person in the last five days to fill out
the form correctly. Ai yi yi!). Thank God. I took their ID, filled
out what I could using the ID, and then asked a series of questions
relating to their housing, needs and insurance. All of the clients
were completely exhausted. Some of them had been turned out of a
plane with the clothes on their back, without a penny in their
pocket. Some had hitchhiked here. One of them with 4 kids. Most of
them were scared. I didn't blame them. It shook me up too. They could
easily be me. They could easily be you.

It took a while, but I got into a rhythm. I would introduce
myself, ask them their name, and then I would welcome them to
California. I tried to talk to each person during the tedious job of
filling out the form, so that they weren't just sitting there
wondering what the hell I was doing with their lives. At the end of
our interview, I would shake their hand, smile and say jokingly,
"Welcome to the system. You're in it". One woman just looked at me
and started to laugh herself sick when I said that. She wiped the
tears from her eyes as she repeated it to the woman next to her, and
that woman started to laugh too. That felt better.After I would
explain that this was the first step in processing their information
so that we could get the proper help to them as soon as possible.

The room and the building were industrial. Industrial colors.
Beige and green. Our small interview space led into a larger waiting
area, that held uncomfortable seats and one scratchy TV. Hard walls,
hard floors, ugly colors, warm hearts.

We had all kinds of satisfyingly nasty snacks available. Oreos,
chips, crackers. Loads of other stuff too, although no one seemed to
touch the graham crackers. I know I didn't. To drink, there were all
of the varied unnaturally colored Gatorades sitting in ice.

I found it jarring watching a very quiet, old, rheumy eyed,
grizzled man with skin as black as pitch, cradling a bottle of
florescent green liquid. It made the gatorade look like some magic
potion. Kind of like the bottles in Alice in Wonderland, that read:
"drink me". I wish it was. It will take magic to return their lives
to them.

Later we had a big spread of KFC. Biscuits, corn, homey
macaroni salads full of mayonnaise, and sandwiches. Everyone, staff
and clients ate, whether they felt like it or not. If only for a
minute, it took our minds off of the turn this world had taken.

The staff and volunteers were interesting. There was no obvious
chain of command in place, and as a result, several popped up to fill
what they saw as a void. The woman doing intake next to me, came with
an agenda. She would ask the clients benign personal questions about
their needs, and then attempt to fill them herself. She told one
client that she had a coat in the car that would fit her, and several
others that her husband was a doctor, and could take care of them.

Her heart was in the right place, unfortunately, paperwork bored
her. Her forms were a mess, and would no doubt later cause the
clients and caseworkers unnecessary time in fixing them. She didn't
last long though. After her fourth break in two hours, she
disappeared. I am guessing that the kind of rescue work we were
providing proved not to be as dramatic as she had hoped...lol.

The next guy was great though, "Ron". Efficient and quick. He
put the clients at ease. We did have one old man who showed up to
help and for some reason got placed at my table. Not only was he
deaf, he began to ask totally inappropriate questions and make
comments that were religious racial and sexual. I ran for "Tony".
"Tony" yanked the man, and sent him supervised, to sit watching
people sign in at the front.

A young man in a yellow shirt took charge throughout the day. he
seemed very authoritative and knew what he was doing in correcting
and directing us. Unfortunately, he wasn't and didn't. Had to fix
everything he did in the end. Luckily, I had checked in with "Tony",
before changing things. Too bad I was almost the only one. "Wanda"
the woman who was supervising our room, had all of the correct info.
Unfortunately because she appeared a bit timid, no one listened to
her. Authority of the boldest ruled.

If the client didn't have any hard ID. Picture ID with a date,
or Drivers License, we were not allowed to process them, due to some
wise guys in the neighborhood who quickly caught on that a handout
was to be had. This posed a huge problem in several cases, as clients
forced to swim through the muck dead bodies and debris quickly lost
all that they had on them.

In this case, we sent them next door, where for at least a
while, a young Red Cross wizard of twenty-something, large,
longhaired bespectacled and bearded, looking for all the world like
the stereotypical physics major, was able in most cases to pull up a
phone record or a gas bill or some other record on line. He was
amazing. Others followed in his wake, but he was the king and saviour
of the day.

Some still could not find ID, and in those cases, we sent them 5
blocks away to the Social Security office to obtain emergency IDs. I
hated to do that, and weaseled my way around it as much as I could
when I was certain that the person I was talking to was who they said
they were. I only had one that I turned away, and it turned out that
indeed, all of the info that he had given me was bogus. He was in the
end, who he said he was, he just thought it would get him through
faster if he gave someone elses' info as he had lost his. Took him
all day to fix it, and no on believed a word he said after that

I just couldn't see sending someone totally cut from their
moorings, out into a strange city, to fend for themselves, wait in
more lines and be further alienated and exhausted. It seemed wrong.

In interviewing the stream of people that passed by me, I found
several things: Most of them didn't want to go back to wherever they
came from. They had had enough. The ones that did wish to return,
were vehement about it. That was their home. The sooner they were
able to return, the better.

Some of the clients stuck in my mind. " Appolonia", was one of
the patients trapped in the hospital at Tulane when the Hurricane
hit. She was one of the ones that arrived with nothing. 49, still
recovering from illness, delicate and shaken to her core. She was
terrified. Who could blame her? The only thing familiar in where she
had ended up was that she was still in America, and most of us spoke
english. She stayed all day until she could be placed in housing. We
took special care of her.

"Anita and John". An older creole couple possessed of great
dignity and elegance. They had swum to a rooftop where they sat
without food or water for three days more or less until they were
plucked off. She was 74. He was 80. She was concerned because he
needed his cancer treatments and his eye medicine. She needed
medication too, but was reluctant to bring it up. He had the most
beautiful voice. She called me her "angel". That broke my heart. I
could do so little.

"Sally" was a big cheerful 30 ish woman who shepherded through
her mother, her sisters, her three cousins and their families. She
was indefatigable, the rest of her family were basket cases. They all
came from Sunflower, Mississippi. Sunflower...what a name for a city.
It was all kindling now. "Sally" was relentless. In the end, although
they were some of the first clients that went through, they were our
last clients of the day. I and another worker tried to shovel them
all through without obtaining the proper ID's necessary to confirm
them. They had to swim to get out. None of them had any identifying
paperwork with them, the ones with the proper IDs, were able to
identify the others though. We succeeded with some of them, and got
chewed out like hell for the ones that they caught us on. More on
that later.

Then there was "Deewain". He was a 28 year old that looked to be
about 17. He had corn rows, a big baby face, and a mouth full of some
very artistic gold teeth. He was just beaten down, and he was
cracking under the strain.

I found in my interviews, that Houston was definitely not the
place to be when you needed help. Turns out, that in Houston, several
of our clients, including, "Deewain", had been robbed of the few
possessions that they were able to salvage by the locals there.
Stories about that were rampant. Remind me to avoid Texas in the
future. Can't vouch for my own city either. One young couple had
someone approach them to try and rob them on their way to the intake
center. Despicable dregs of humanity, preying on the vulnerable.

All this poor guy wanted was a meal, a change of underwear, and
someone professional to talk to...... He had been wearing the same
clothes for a week, and washing them in sinks when he could. Because
of his lack of ID, he was put through the ringer, despite our best
efforts. The catch phrase of the day turned out to be, "rules are
rules". I spent my time finding ways around that, while still
adhering to the letter of the law.

I looked all over for our mental health guy, but couldn't find
him. I was told he had left for the day. I was worried. For the rest
of the day, I watched "Deewain", like a hawk. I was afraid he would
go off somewhere and kill himself. No, I am not exaggerating. In the
end, I had to hand him off to someone else, who swore that she would
look out for him.

There were others, The woman with 6 children taken in at a local
church. She had nothing, no one, and no where to go. Her hair was
perfect. She had beautiful eyes. We were able to place her and give
her a debit card to use, as we were with just about everyone.

The one lone white man. Tall, blond and rail thin with
pockmarked skin and a bad look to his eyes. He had his two little
boys with him, that he wouldn't let out of his sight. Several
caseworkers offered to take the kids up to the supervised play room,
so that they weren't in the middle of the mess of people downstairs,
but he insisted they would never leave him.

When I sat down and spoke to the boys, they readily agreed to go
with me, however, it turned out to be dad who didn't want to be left
alone. He refused to let them go. Although it was offered, he
wouldn't accept any help for the kids, or enrollment in any programs
for them. No mom in sight. I suspected something else was going on,
but nothing I could do in the capacity I was in, and the crush of
people that waited. That one still worries me.

On the whole though the stories were good. We were able to get
almost everyone through the process fairly seamlessly. The Red Cross
was able to provide them with shelter, money, and food, and direct
them to various agencies for clothing and other help. Every client I
processed was patient, kind and helpful. Amazing with what they had
all been through.

As I mentioned earlier, we got in trouble about the ID thing.
The head of our unit, the "buck stops here" person, is a tall dour
woman with the name o a goddess, but who looks for all the world like
the female version of Barney Fife. She was also unfortunately....
blessed with the bedside manner of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Although I must say she was extremely precise and efficient.
Very directed, intelligent and in charge. She was seriously cranky
by nature. In this case, furious that some had been let through
without hard ID. In one instance, a caseworker had relied on a call
to a mom in Biloxi to identify her 35 year old son in Los Angeles.
Turned out that he was who he said he was after further processing.
Of course "Barney", was no where to be found when all of us were
looking for approval or to ask questions. Then again, she had made
herself so unapproachable, that I don't know if most would have dared.

Apparently she had wanted large signs posted throughout the
building, stating that no one would be processed without ID, but was
overruled on the grounds that the media might see it. She ordered
that they would be placed prominently the next day. Media or not. She
also intended to discontinue the computer help that were were so
relieved to be giving. Instead, she planned to send everyone lacking
ID packing off on the trek to the Social Security office down the
road. We were horrified, but there is nothing that we can do about it.

This news was all delivered in a rant. At the end of the speech,
I was thinking that she should have simply spoke to us in her native
German.....kidding......

You know, I would never wish upon anyone the calamity that had
befallen the gulf coast, but in her case, I can't say that it didn't
cross my mind ever so briefly. I know that she is in a tough
position, and I do understand that should we give our resources to
those who don't need it, then those who do will lack, but just a
little empathy from her would have gone a long way.

We processed 100 + families that day. Apparently a record. One
that will no doubt be broken in the days to come. There are thousands
more to go in the next weeks and months. Not sure where we are going
to put them all. They need jobs, housing, money, clothing,
counseling, understanding, continuity and so much more. It will take
a long time. I hope we are all up to the task.

Sorry this one was so long. there is so much to say, and so much
left unsaid. I still don't know if I am to be deployed. I went over
to the main building on Wednesday, and hunted down the head of the
department, by wearing my "volunteer" badge and looking like I knew
where I was going. Her name...ah shoot...I started to give her name,
but I don't want any grief for her....sigh.... Anyway, she's just
great, possessed of all of the empathy, intelligence and kindness,
that one could hope for. She says she will call me today. I trust
that she will.

Sorry this was so long. If you wish to be removed from my list,
just hit the reply button, and type "remove", in the subject line.

Take care,

Lisa

#5 More Red Cross Classes

Hi there,

Me again. Took the last of my Red Cross classes yesterday.
Can't tell you how happy I am to be done with them.

First class was taught by a fellow who's grasp of english was limited, and who's thick accent was very difficult to cut through. Second class was taught by a cranky loud woman who spoke rapid fire, and went so quickly through filling out the necessary forms, that many in the class had trouble keeping up with her. Quite a contrast.

Yesterday's class was Family Services. Taught by a man who
absolutely droned. Ai yi yi,...it was like torture. It was one of
those: how many words can I use over and over and over again to
describe this one teeny tiny element of what you need to
know....before I move on to the next teeny tiny element which I will
describe to you in the minutest detail, using the largest possible
number of monosyllabic words that I am familiar with? He exhausted
us.

Also more endless forms. I was shocked at the lack of
computerization in a major agency such as this. One gigantic
cartoonish form measuring about 12"x18" even had carbon paper.
Carbon paper????

One of the forms though was very high tech. As has
happenedin the past, some people show up after a disaster with counterfeit
forms, trying to scam money. In response, they have developed a form
that when you squeeze a certain marked portion of it, it changes
color to verify its authenticity.

Some people left. It was that dreadful. I figured that If I
couldn't live through these three classes and instructors, then I
would be pretty pathetic when any real hardship comes up. Like
someone losing their temper at me because I wasn't understanding
their needs quickly enough. That will happen... I am guessing. Maybe the classes are a test...lol

I did learn a lot though. I learned that the Red Cross is a
bureaucracy, and like any bureaucracy, it is encumbered by rules and
regulations. Most of them for good reason. Some of them a bit
nonsensical to a left leaning Californian.

I also learned that the Red Cross is a short term emergency stop gap. They provide money,food and shelter only...and that is temporary. They also assess
needs, and direct clients to more long term services.

Clients are processed in as an individual or a family. If a
family, the acceptable structure is strict. A spouse for example, is
only recognized as such if the couple is legally married. Parents of
children have to be their birth parents or their legal guardians. I
have no idea how the heck we will be dealing with common law
spouses,grandmas raising kids, aunties who are really just old family
friendsraising kids etc....

Having been to the south many times, I know that those arrangements abound. we were also told that homosexual or lesbian couples would be processed separately. Its all in the legality I was told.

It was a little confusing at times. For some reason it seemed
that we could place a non legally related couple in the same bed,
but were to provide separate beds for same sex couples. One attendee
after hearing that commented, "So... we are not promoting
homosexuality, but we ARE promoting promiscuity?" Our instructor was
proved to be a little unclear on some subjects.

Good stuff: No client pays for anything. We try to find them
housing equivalent to what they lost, feed them, and give them
money.We actually provide them with a credit card that has a daily limit.

Oh...they can't buy guns or alcohol with the card or it will be
cancelled. Damn...don't you hate it when that happens?

The Red Cross collects information on missing prescriptions,
medical or mental problems, and connects the clients to the
appropriate agency. Sounds like they do a lot of coordinating. All
of this lasts however for only a two week period, with the idea being
that by that time, the client has been connected with more long term
agencies to help their continuing needs.

Other things: The clients' privacy rights are paramount. We do
not give out names. Non residents may not enter shelters, or get any
information about any client. Inquiries are processed and delivered
to the individual client so that he or she can contact the person or
not. If immigration officials come to the door looking for someone
that they know is with us, we turn them away with no information
given. We protect the clients above all.

Informing us about the other agencies that work disasters, one
of the questions the instructor asked was, "what does FEMA do?"...He
got almost universal laughter as a response, and many shouts of ,
"nothing!". Several pointed out that it was not a good question to
ask just yet, and someone else pointed out that as far as she knew,
at least no arabian horses have been known to have died in the
floods.

Note: FEMA is having some serious problems getting its act
together, and the director's last job was as the head of an arabian
horse association. However, all of the agencies are having some
problems. Yesterday OXFAM arrived to help. Their last deployment was
the tsunami. They usually help underprivileged countries..Oops.

So still no deployment, but the Los Angeles RC has begun
processing families here, that are arriving from the gulf as of
yesterday. 190 processed so far. I am volunteering for that over the
weekend. My friend David who went with me to the first class
received a deployment call yesterday, asking if he could leave in two days.
Turns out David is 6'3", and used to be with the Peace Corps.

That's it for now. I have made pals with some classmates, and
weare all frustrated by the seeming slowness of it all.We will all
continue to hurry up and wait. I will keep you posted on the
progress, or the lack thereof.


Take care,

Lisa

#4 Bureaucracy

Hi guys,

Red Cross called this morning. It was a very polite nurse wanting to know about some of the information I filled out in my application. Why I felt that I couldn't lift 50 lbs repeatedly, and what did I mean when I wrote that I was a, "very small woman"?

I told him That at 5'3", 50 lbs was half of my total body weight, and no....I am not a "little person". I guessed that is what he must have been thinking from the ever-so-delicate tone of his voice when he asked the question. He apparently had so much to do that he didn't read further down the application, which would have told him that my stats are 5' 3" 100 lbs, 49 years old...lol

As he started to quiz me more on it. I took a deep breath and said to him, "look, I'm small, I'm old, I am not phisically overwhelming...to say the least. I speak a whole bunch of foreign languages. Some of them really well. I am a business owner and a manager of a lot of complex annoying stuff.

Perhaps it could be a waste of resources to have me hauling sacks of potatoes, as I will undoubtedly be really really bad at it". Again, if anyone had read further, they would have seen that info too.

Message to me...they are swamped. Overwhelmed. Over their heads . Me and a whole raft of others have just agreed to jump in and make my life and theirs a lot more discombobulated......sigh..... As Calvin and Hobbes used to say: "Kawabunga"

To underscore this, not 10 minutes after I had hung up with him, the Red Cross called again. This time it was a very nice young lady wondering if I would like to sign up for some classes if I plan on being a volunteer?

She was calling regarding my signing up a week previously. When I didn't hear back from them after two days, I drove down and registered. Figured it would be faster than waiting for them to call me. So it was. Told her that I had already taken two, and was going for the third on Wednsday, but thanks for the call.

Alll of this happened while I was sitting out at one of the local cafe's here in Topanga, waiting for our local Doc, Doug Roy to maybe have room in his busy schedule to give me my required tetanus shot. Known Doug forever.

When I told him why I wanted it, his brow knitted, his head lowered, and he immediately began fulminating....... and writing. Turns out one of his many interest is disaster medicine. By the time he was done scribbling things down and talking a mile a minute on what I should get, who I should call, what I should do, (this has been most of my friend's and family's reaction by the way), he had me scheduled up for every non-or-semi experimental inoculation currently available now or ever, including Dengue Fever.

Woof! Took me a while to talk him off of the ledge. Explained that for all I know, I might get sent to Chicago, and that despite the possibility that I might contract ebola, I think I was going to wait on the other shots, and stick,(no pun intended...youch!) with just the tetanus for now. Kinda made me think though.

Oh..almost forgot, The Red Cross nurse...RC caller #1..... decided after speaking with me that I would best serve their needs by being in their Family Services department. He was really happy to hear that I spoke more than english, and that they would be able to do something with me. Me too.

That means I will probably be evaluating people for intake, determining their needs and placement. At least that's how he explained it. Guess I will wait to see if he proves to be correct.

Sounds like a lot of responsibility. I will try to do a good job. He asked if he could, " place a big sticker on my application to that effect?" I now have a big sticker on my application to that effect.

Take care,

Lisa

#3 Collecting the Gear

Hi again mailing list,

Well, Today I went out and about to start to get together all of the "stuff", (wanted to use a more descriptive but profane word here...resisted the urge), that will be required for my deployment. So of course went to Tar-zhee. Otherwise known as Target to the plebian crowd..which of course includes moi.

Because the Red Cross is so overwhelmed, we volunteers must go out and get many of the required travel. " accessories ", ourselves. At our own expense.

Included in the requirements is a sleeping bag. The only hotel rooms will most likely already be taken up by the refugees/evacuees, and so we do-gooders will be making do with a cot or a bit of floor or ground space as we should. Well who knew there were such choices? The only camping I have done as of late is to sit around on a lounge chair waiting for my next mai tai to arrive. KIDDING........Sort of.

So I got together the duffel, flashlight, rain gear etc....and went up to the front to have a little chat with the supervisor. Thought I would wait on the sleeping bag for more "research"..

Explained to the infant "supervisor", the situation. That I was being sent out with the R.C...blah blah blah....can they perhaps give me a wee break on the price considering the circumstances. Forced purchasing etc.... He immediately adopted the proverbial rabbit in the headlights look about him and called his supervisor.

Supervisor #2 was invisible, but on the other end of the phone apparently. Supervisor #1's conversation after explanation went, " uh huh...yeah..ok...uh huh...ok" Answer: No discount of any kind. I was surprised that they didn't charge me double for asking. Employees standing nearby said to me, ....covering their badges, "hey...don't use our names, but we thing that Target sucks for not helping out." How much more well put can an appropriate sentiment be expressed??

Went around the corner to Sports Chalet. Imagine anyone calling anything "Chalet" in Southern California. It invites ridicule doesn't it?

Started out by asking an almost identical infant supervisor the same...hey..can you give a girl a break question. His reply was...well...uh...gee...uh...well...um...I can only give you 15% off. is that ok?? Big big hip hip hooray for the Chalet and its employees!! I am a happy camper...pun intended.

Went to the camping section, and the very very kind, older gent there walked me though all available Chalet-esque permutations of camping regalia. I ended up with a perfectly amazing sleeping bag, first aid kit and a bunch of other required junk that I will be surprised to use, but no doubt grateful to have once I am there. 15% off...To all of you....Please.......skip Tar-zhee, buy Chalet.

Wish I could have gotten together these campy things used, or at least borrowed them, but those that I had went with my ex, the firefighter. The camping pals that I have, are going with me and need their gear themselves....sigh....for the most part, almost all of us have to buy at least some of it......drat it!

So I am now packed up in my new duffle. Turns out that all of those different plastic bags that I use to package and ship out jewelry in comes in quite handy in bundling extra batteries, radios, flashlight parts and the like. Who knew? Sleeping bag fits into the secret bottom compartment of the new duffle perfectly. I feel very organized at this point. No doubt that will soon change.

Did you know that I am required to bring "office supplies"? I am. My kit contains whiteout and paper, envelopes, stamps, blue masking tape and paper clips to name a few things.

Only thing left to pack are my clothes, and I will wait until deployment orders to throw those things in.

I am told that in N.O., they are finally beginning to gather the dead. That may allow us into the city at last, however we will go to first deployments ahead of N.O. Looking more like Mississippi right now, although that may change again.

I take my Family Services class Wednesday morning. No doubt that will be interesting. It is limited to 25 volunteers, and includes how to counsel and assess families who have lost everything.....including other family members Still not sure if you can teach or learn that in a class. I guess I will find out.

Unless something happens before then, I will post next Wednesday.

Take care, be thankful for the things that you still have.

Lisa

#2 Classes start

Hola,

Just finished my first two classes in preparation for leaving. DIsaster, and Mass preparedness. There were 100 volunteers there. Usually there are 2.

We watched videos, asked questions and filled out papers...lots of papers. No one will be hopping on a plane tomorrow. More classes to go through first, health checks and approval.

We were told today that we can not go to N.O. yet.... for our safety. Only the military is being allowed in at this time, however, we will be deployed anytime from the next two weeks or so through November, in 9-21 day stints to surrounding areas, as well as Houston, Mississppi, Alabama, and perhaps a few other states.

This is the biggest operation that the Red Cross has ever undertaken, and they are understandably nervous about sending in so many newbies like me with so little experience, but they need the people. They are shorthanded.

Once there, the RC pays for everything. You are given a card to charge things on...with limits of course. No day at the spa...sob...

Help includes shelter setup and operation, food, clothing, mental health, mobile food services for those still in a semi livable house, or even living in their car.....and a lot more. No one is called a "victim" Anyone in need of assistance is a "client."

Special care will be given to children and some women's issues. Even dietary requirements such as vegitarianism, or cultural food preferences will be seen to and provided.

This is all done through generous donations and volunteers. No "client" pays for any part of it. Volunteers only give their time and their empathy.

The 100 volunteers in my classes included doctors, nurses, mental health professionals, teachers, retirees, a courier, a moderately well known actor and his wife, and 1 jeweler,(guess who?). Just about every profession seemed to be represented. I was pretty impressed at the turnout and by the devotion to help that everyone expressed.

Makes me think its a pretty cool world after all....although I did read the French newspaper Le Monde this morning. The headline read:"The World Extends a Hand to a Humiliated America". It made me laugh out loud. Apparently more than 60 countries have offered or sent us aid. Thanks guys.

If you are interested, I will keep you updated, in the mean time go out and do something,volunteer, or just give some money. Money is always good.

Best,

Lisa

#1 Katrina Hits

I recently received a forwarded letter from Michael Moore. I have received it from several of my friends. Below is my reply that I am sending on to my mailing list:

Got the letter, read it, and I believe he is right. This governments' lack of response is despicable. But rather than sitting home and pontificating, Mr. Moore, Mr. Bush and all of their friends both big and small, you, and all of your friends, ought to do something more concrete.

Yesterday I joined the Red Cross. Today I filled out the paperwork. Tomorrow I go in to be trained. It looks like next week I leave for either Mississippi, Houston or New Orleans. I have talked to all of my friends, and two of them are doing the same. Nine days out of our lives. Big whoop.

I will work like hell for those days. I will do what little I can. I will come home to a house that is standing, a business that is doing well and my child who is alive. A life that will go on as usual. Many thousands have lost all of those things and more.

Talk is cheap...

Opinions no longer matter to over a million people in those areas affected by this catastrophe....

So.....

Instead of sitting around and complaining.

Or pointing fingers...(there will be plenty of time for that later)...

Do something....

Get off of your butts...

Volunteer...

Somewhere....

Make a difference...

Change the world.....

Or at least one small part of it.

Send this one on.

Best,

Lisa