Sunday, August 22, 2010
www.youtube.com/danielwstoner
Please check out the youtube site for video blog updates. Be well, Daniel
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
wednesday 8/11/2010
It’s our 2nd full day at BP SOS (Boat People SOS) in Bayou La Batre, AL.
David from BP SOS gave a tour of the boatyards, shipyard and marshlands. I’ve posted some of the images on Facebook but I have a several great videos that I shoot that still need to be posted.
The community here is so resilient. I remember what the area looked like after Katrina. It was very different then. The disaster was obvious because of the massive destruction caused by the surge line and winds. Now, the landscape looks beautiful and the houses are intact. However, this time the impact is financial, emotional and biological.
The boat docks are full of picturesque shrimp boats and the summer skies are bright blue. Unfortunately, it’s the height of the shrimping seasons and the boat should be at sea for weeks at a time. These, mostly individually own, shrimp boats can hold thousands of pounds of “ Best in the world” seafood and the duration of each excursion lasts between 25 and 40 days.
The boats are double parked in some of the slips due to the lack of available spots. “ We have never had this many boats in this harbor for this long of time” one of the fisherman said. It’s been over a hundred days since the oil began to link.
I’ll tell you, I’ve heard everything from BP Gas is killing us, our government is killing us, we need to be able to fish and/or we need more off shore drilling. This was a town built around fishing that has become a town built more and more around oil production. Oysters and shrimp are in high demand and a way of life, oil has become the liquid gold. Shipyards that once built shrimp boat now build for the oil industry. The craftsmen with their torches weld the huge hulls of the Push boat in the same docks where the fathers before them crafted fishing vessels. The economy is 90 percent boat oriented in some way.
I chatted with some ladies sitting outside of a fish processing building today. One lady, Peg, told me about her families struggles to keep going. Katrina was five years ago and it’s taken almost five years for this industry to recover. Peg told me about the past three months without work. Her in-laws are in the fishing business, she and her husband are in the business and they have 3 children. The process of filing for assistance, with BP’s involvement, has made a horrible situation even worse.
I am not in politics and I leave it to the ones how should know better than I.
I can’t understand what is going on with our government. During Katrina I couldn’t wait to throw a pile of blame at W. Bush. His administration’s response was a disaster and a complete lack of orientation and humanity.
This administration’s response, however, does not seem much better. Baden’s speech here a few weeks ago is been replayed a lot. In it he stated that things were not so bad as he stood on a resort lagoon pristine beach. BP Gas has people everywhere. Most are here working just as hard as they would at their normal jobs. Trying to restore, protect and get the oil out of the water, sand and air. Others, however, are in unmarked cars, sitting in parking lots and monitoring citizens who are checking out the shoreline, taking pictures or asking questions.
What a dichotomy. The stress level here is high.
Elizabeth and Nancy from www.Hippyusa.org an organization that teaches parents the basic teaching/educational skills that they need to prepare their preschoolers for Kindergarten. They prepared a one-hour computer class today and taught it to the kids. Elizabeth did a great job. It’s hard for her sometimes, like with most teens, to have someone tell them how to do anything. She stepped up to the plate, hit and scored. I could tell how nervous she was but no one else could.
We actually had a couple of parents take the basic computer skills class. I love watching people challenge themselves to move beyond where they are at whatever age. This one lady had been so intimidated by the computer that she would not help her children with homework. Today she faced a self imposed villain and came out victorious.
There’s a tropical depression stirring in the Keys. It’s scheduled to be here by Thursday morning. If I thought it was going to be larger, I’d think about leaving. But it’s better to stay here and follow the storm north than try to out run it. We’ll leave as scheduled on Friday.
David from BP SOS gave a tour of the boatyards, shipyard and marshlands. I’ve posted some of the images on Facebook but I have a several great videos that I shoot that still need to be posted.
The community here is so resilient. I remember what the area looked like after Katrina. It was very different then. The disaster was obvious because of the massive destruction caused by the surge line and winds. Now, the landscape looks beautiful and the houses are intact. However, this time the impact is financial, emotional and biological.
The boat docks are full of picturesque shrimp boats and the summer skies are bright blue. Unfortunately, it’s the height of the shrimping seasons and the boat should be at sea for weeks at a time. These, mostly individually own, shrimp boats can hold thousands of pounds of “ Best in the world” seafood and the duration of each excursion lasts between 25 and 40 days.
The boats are double parked in some of the slips due to the lack of available spots. “ We have never had this many boats in this harbor for this long of time” one of the fisherman said. It’s been over a hundred days since the oil began to link.
I’ll tell you, I’ve heard everything from BP Gas is killing us, our government is killing us, we need to be able to fish and/or we need more off shore drilling. This was a town built around fishing that has become a town built more and more around oil production. Oysters and shrimp are in high demand and a way of life, oil has become the liquid gold. Shipyards that once built shrimp boat now build for the oil industry. The craftsmen with their torches weld the huge hulls of the Push boat in the same docks where the fathers before them crafted fishing vessels. The economy is 90 percent boat oriented in some way.
I chatted with some ladies sitting outside of a fish processing building today. One lady, Peg, told me about her families struggles to keep going. Katrina was five years ago and it’s taken almost five years for this industry to recover. Peg told me about the past three months without work. Her in-laws are in the fishing business, she and her husband are in the business and they have 3 children. The process of filing for assistance, with BP’s involvement, has made a horrible situation even worse.
I am not in politics and I leave it to the ones how should know better than I.
I can’t understand what is going on with our government. During Katrina I couldn’t wait to throw a pile of blame at W. Bush. His administration’s response was a disaster and a complete lack of orientation and humanity.
This administration’s response, however, does not seem much better. Baden’s speech here a few weeks ago is been replayed a lot. In it he stated that things were not so bad as he stood on a resort lagoon pristine beach. BP Gas has people everywhere. Most are here working just as hard as they would at their normal jobs. Trying to restore, protect and get the oil out of the water, sand and air. Others, however, are in unmarked cars, sitting in parking lots and monitoring citizens who are checking out the shoreline, taking pictures or asking questions.
What a dichotomy. The stress level here is high.
Elizabeth and Nancy from www.Hippyusa.org an organization that teaches parents the basic teaching/educational skills that they need to prepare their preschoolers for Kindergarten. They prepared a one-hour computer class today and taught it to the kids. Elizabeth did a great job. It’s hard for her sometimes, like with most teens, to have someone tell them how to do anything. She stepped up to the plate, hit and scored. I could tell how nervous she was but no one else could.
We actually had a couple of parents take the basic computer skills class. I love watching people challenge themselves to move beyond where they are at whatever age. This one lady had been so intimidated by the computer that she would not help her children with homework. Today she faced a self imposed villain and came out victorious.
There’s a tropical depression stirring in the Keys. It’s scheduled to be here by Thursday morning. If I thought it was going to be larger, I’d think about leaving. But it’s better to stay here and follow the storm north than try to out run it. We’ll leave as scheduled on Friday.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
thursday 8/5
Today was a very full day. Yesterday afternoon I spoke with Erin at Mobile Bay Keepers and our objectives shifted for 1/2 our trip. Here is how it shifted.
Over the last few days, I found myself feeling extremely irritated at the lack of response to my calls and emails to agencies in the Gulf area. (Not Mobile Bay Keepers and mainly my irritation with the others stems from the fact that Volunteers must go through BP America, yes British Petroleum before they can help) I have yet to receive a call from BP 8/5/2010.
I wanted the agencies to call me so I could schedule "My" agenda, "our" activities and so I could prepare for what " I " felt I should be doing. I can slip into a narrow focus and step into a big pile of " Me" if I'm not careful. And that's exactly what happened. The former producer/"get it done" in me sometimes bull doses through a situation.
The harder I pushed to get it done, the less was accomplished. The more frustrated I became. I was writing the sermon for the Wednesday service and it was on of all things, "Will" " self will". I was in self will run riot. I became aware that emotionally our journey to the Gulf of Mexico had become, in a matter of hours, more about the journey meeting my expectation instead of the journey itself. So, I released, from my white knuckled grip, any future experience before I had squeezed every drop of good intention from it. It felt like I had turned in the correct direction once again. Within about five minutes, I glanced down at a sheet of paper covered in notes, messages and numbers from a weeks worth of mapping. I noticed in the upper right hand corner a Texas number and " Boat People, SOS". Oh, that’s right, Erin had given me that contact information a couple of days earlier. So I called them. Grace, the Executive director, answered and I explained who I was and my intent. In my head I'm thinking " what am I doing calling them when our goal is to rescue wildlife. Do you rescue turtles?" yet Grace and I continued to connect.
" ...And the fisherman's children are not able to get school supplies because their parents have been without an income for almost 3 months." " I wonder if people outside of here forget that a way of life has stopped. And so has their ability to buy food, pay their bills and provide basic needs for their kids." With a gentle exhale, I began moving forward again. " What do you need?" I said to Grace, " School starts Monday 8/9/2010 and I bet most of our kids don't have what they need to begin school."
" We'll help and my daughter and I will be there on Monday." I know my friends, family and people in the community. They are true step up to the plate people. So I called Corey, the Director at the Paul Henson YMCA and told him, briefly, about what we needed to take with us to Mobile. Corey replied, " How can I help". Within a couple of minutes there was a " Help our neighbors" box in the lobby of the YMCA. Within two hours, Michael and Khara Cosentino had made a generous offer from Price Chopper Markets and within 4 hours (with donations made from some friends and family) we had enough money for 32 cases of composition books (48 per case), 500 pencils/pens, 10 cases of glue sticks, a few cases of loose leaf paper and over 1000 folders.
Heidi Alrey always says that life happens through us not to us. Yes.
Tomorrow Elizabeth and I will pick up the supplies. I have a station wagon and a cargo carrier for the top. I'm seeing the car filled to the sunroof with supplies. It was a Great day for me to get out of the way. Daniel
Over the last few days, I found myself feeling extremely irritated at the lack of response to my calls and emails to agencies in the Gulf area. (Not Mobile Bay Keepers and mainly my irritation with the others stems from the fact that Volunteers must go through BP America, yes British Petroleum before they can help) I have yet to receive a call from BP 8/5/2010.
I wanted the agencies to call me so I could schedule "My" agenda, "our" activities and so I could prepare for what " I " felt I should be doing. I can slip into a narrow focus and step into a big pile of " Me" if I'm not careful. And that's exactly what happened. The former producer/"get it done" in me sometimes bull doses through a situation.
The harder I pushed to get it done, the less was accomplished. The more frustrated I became. I was writing the sermon for the Wednesday service and it was on of all things, "Will" " self will". I was in self will run riot. I became aware that emotionally our journey to the Gulf of Mexico had become, in a matter of hours, more about the journey meeting my expectation instead of the journey itself. So, I released, from my white knuckled grip, any future experience before I had squeezed every drop of good intention from it. It felt like I had turned in the correct direction once again. Within about five minutes, I glanced down at a sheet of paper covered in notes, messages and numbers from a weeks worth of mapping. I noticed in the upper right hand corner a Texas number and " Boat People, SOS". Oh, that’s right, Erin had given me that contact information a couple of days earlier. So I called them. Grace, the Executive director, answered and I explained who I was and my intent. In my head I'm thinking " what am I doing calling them when our goal is to rescue wildlife. Do you rescue turtles?" yet Grace and I continued to connect.
" ...And the fisherman's children are not able to get school supplies because their parents have been without an income for almost 3 months." " I wonder if people outside of here forget that a way of life has stopped. And so has their ability to buy food, pay their bills and provide basic needs for their kids." With a gentle exhale, I began moving forward again. " What do you need?" I said to Grace, " School starts Monday 8/9/2010 and I bet most of our kids don't have what they need to begin school."
" We'll help and my daughter and I will be there on Monday." I know my friends, family and people in the community. They are true step up to the plate people. So I called Corey, the Director at the Paul Henson YMCA and told him, briefly, about what we needed to take with us to Mobile. Corey replied, " How can I help". Within a couple of minutes there was a " Help our neighbors" box in the lobby of the YMCA. Within two hours, Michael and Khara Cosentino had made a generous offer from Price Chopper Markets and within 4 hours (with donations made from some friends and family) we had enough money for 32 cases of composition books (48 per case), 500 pencils/pens, 10 cases of glue sticks, a few cases of loose leaf paper and over 1000 folders.
Heidi Alrey always says that life happens through us not to us. Yes.
Tomorrow Elizabeth and I will pick up the supplies. I have a station wagon and a cargo carrier for the top. I'm seeing the car filled to the sunroof with supplies. It was a Great day for me to get out of the way. Daniel
Monday, August 2, 2010
http://www.alabamaseaturtles.com/adopt-a-nest/
This is a link to the Bon Secour Wildlife Refuge. They have several ways to help, including adopting a sea turtle. Also it's not on the website, they are making great strides in removing unhatched turtle eggs from the shoreline and moving them to safer areas of Florida not impacted by the oil. Check them out. Elizabeth and I are helping at this reserve for 2 days. http://www.fws.gov/bonsecour/index.htm
Friday, July 30, 2010
Friday 9/30 One week out
We are getting pretty excited about our trip to the Gulf of Mexico, MS,AL,FL coasts.
First of all, I'm so grateful to Derek for all his support and efforts in making this trip possible for Elizabeth and I. We live full and abundant lives and it takes an extra effort on the home front when two of the three are away. Thanks Janet at Unity Temple on the Plaza for helping with my blog page, well, for doing my blog page :).
I'd like to share a web address of a musical artist that I love and her words and spirit really hits home with me. www.janastanfield.com Her music has won multiple awards and you my recognize her music from the church/country crowds. Jana lives in Nashville. Jana has ask if Derek and I would create a image library from our journey with Elizabeth in the Gulf so Jana could build a video for one of her songs for Youtube. "If I were Brave" Listen to her video from Carnegie Hall on YouTube. Thanks Jana
On to Gulf news.
Thank you for the emails and call of support and encouragement. We have a few volunteer days set up in the Pensacola area. There is a wildlife refuge that fosters and nurtures some of the recovering oil spill wild animals. I've contacted them about Eliz and I helping for a 2 days. They are checking it out and it looks promising. I'm getting my HASMAT training on Tuesday. It's a basic crash course designed to give practical safe guards, techniques and precautions to people with some existing training. www.hazmatschool.com/ is a good info site.
The age requirements restricts Eliz from working, must be over 18. Very understandable.
Does anyone have contacts at Sprint or Garmin GPS company. Several organizations need devices to help locate, relay to rescuers the exact coordinates of the found animals. What a great opportunity for a communications company to share more than directions to a restaurant. If you know anyone that can help with this need, please email me at daniel@danielwstoner.com. Maybe these items can be loaned or leased at a extremely low rate to these non profits.
I am hoping that we are able to meet up with a biologist in Gulf Shores. Elizabeth wants to be a Vet, most 14 year old girls do, and I want to expose her to the vastness of the field. She has been volunteering at Wayside waifs, a local animal shelter in the Kansas City area. www.waysidewaifs.org. We did an medical foster, a blood hound/English Springer mix. Everything was hound except his color, snow white with liver colored ears. It was hard to return him, until the hound yells in the middle of the night. That helped ease the process.
We are working with Elizabeth's school to communicate what we are doing and allow the summer session kids to follow along. I will most likely make Eliz's blog only accessible to other kids.
One idea Elizabeth and I are working on is the reactions of oil base fluid to various other liquids, primarily water, of varying temperatures. i.e Cold Arctic water vs. warm Gulf water. It's a project she can carry back to school in the Fall and involve others in her science class.
The car is clean and the car carrier is almost ready to go on top.
The recent small storm in the Gulf has given the impression that the oil is reducing. However, many biologist and scientist are reminding us that the very warm Gulf water is allowing the oil to " sink" to a lower concentration level below the visible sea level. Approximately 20ft below sea level, it's a thicker crude oil mixture. I read up on a few if the differences between the dispersion of crude oil in cold Alaskan waters/Valdez spill and the warm Gulf of Mexico waters. The oil stays extremely visible on the surface in cold temperatures verses warmer temperatures.
We are all looking for a resolution/remedy/solution for this environmental disaster however we must hold fast for the long term solutions.
Once again, thanks for being a part of this experience. I, we, welcome your thoughts and expressions. Be Well, Daniel
First of all, I'm so grateful to Derek for all his support and efforts in making this trip possible for Elizabeth and I. We live full and abundant lives and it takes an extra effort on the home front when two of the three are away. Thanks Janet at Unity Temple on the Plaza for helping with my blog page, well, for doing my blog page :).
I'd like to share a web address of a musical artist that I love and her words and spirit really hits home with me. www.janastanfield.com Her music has won multiple awards and you my recognize her music from the church/country crowds. Jana lives in Nashville. Jana has ask if Derek and I would create a image library from our journey with Elizabeth in the Gulf so Jana could build a video for one of her songs for Youtube. "If I were Brave" Listen to her video from Carnegie Hall on YouTube. Thanks Jana
On to Gulf news.
Thank you for the emails and call of support and encouragement. We have a few volunteer days set up in the Pensacola area. There is a wildlife refuge that fosters and nurtures some of the recovering oil spill wild animals. I've contacted them about Eliz and I helping for a 2 days. They are checking it out and it looks promising. I'm getting my HASMAT training on Tuesday. It's a basic crash course designed to give practical safe guards, techniques and precautions to people with some existing training. www.hazmatschool.com/ is a good info site.
The age requirements restricts Eliz from working, must be over 18. Very understandable.
Does anyone have contacts at Sprint or Garmin GPS company. Several organizations need devices to help locate, relay to rescuers the exact coordinates of the found animals. What a great opportunity for a communications company to share more than directions to a restaurant. If you know anyone that can help with this need, please email me at daniel@danielwstoner.com. Maybe these items can be loaned or leased at a extremely low rate to these non profits.
I am hoping that we are able to meet up with a biologist in Gulf Shores. Elizabeth wants to be a Vet, most 14 year old girls do, and I want to expose her to the vastness of the field. She has been volunteering at Wayside waifs, a local animal shelter in the Kansas City area. www.waysidewaifs.org. We did an medical foster, a blood hound/English Springer mix. Everything was hound except his color, snow white with liver colored ears. It was hard to return him, until the hound yells in the middle of the night. That helped ease the process.
We are working with Elizabeth's school to communicate what we are doing and allow the summer session kids to follow along. I will most likely make Eliz's blog only accessible to other kids.
One idea Elizabeth and I are working on is the reactions of oil base fluid to various other liquids, primarily water, of varying temperatures. i.e Cold Arctic water vs. warm Gulf water. It's a project she can carry back to school in the Fall and involve others in her science class.
The car is clean and the car carrier is almost ready to go on top.
The recent small storm in the Gulf has given the impression that the oil is reducing. However, many biologist and scientist are reminding us that the very warm Gulf water is allowing the oil to " sink" to a lower concentration level below the visible sea level. Approximately 20ft below sea level, it's a thicker crude oil mixture. I read up on a few if the differences between the dispersion of crude oil in cold Alaskan waters/Valdez spill and the warm Gulf of Mexico waters. The oil stays extremely visible on the surface in cold temperatures verses warmer temperatures.
We are all looking for a resolution/remedy/solution for this environmental disaster however we must hold fast for the long term solutions.
Once again, thanks for being a part of this experience. I, we, welcome your thoughts and expressions. Be Well, Daniel
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Our letter of intent
Over the last few years, responding vs. reacting has become a goal of mine. The impact on my life has been profound. With the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, I see a special opportunity -- “Give a man a fish and he’ll have a meal. Teach a man how to fish and you’ll provide him a way to live.”
A few years ago we met an amazing 10-year-old girl, Elizabeth. Having lost both of her parents, she faced an uncertain future. As her foster and eventually adoptive parents, our lives have been forever enriched, humbled, and enlightened. We knew we could not change or replace any unpleasant childhood memories. However, we did know that we could influence, guide and impact her tween/teen years. She continues to excel and shine spiritually, personally and academically. We are so very proud of her.
One of my heart commitments to Elizabeth was to share with her the best, and no so best, of my life experiences and explain what pulled or pushed me to make the choices I made. Five years ago, I served with the American Red Cross as a volunteer. Within a week after Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast, I was in Mobile Alabama doing a variety of jobs, from rescuing injured dogs, serving meals, delivering first aid supplies and being present to listen to people who had lost so much.
With the devastation caused by the recent oil spill, my connection to our neighbors to the south is calling. I believe we can help: Elizabeth and I are driving to Mobile beginning on Friday, August 6, bringing needed supplies and picking up supplies from various organizations. While en route, we will keep an online blog, posting stories and pictures. We will share our experiences as we perform various tasks and participate in projects. Our goal is to make a difference during our journey, while we’re there, and back home.
Elizabeth will be creating a video/text blog from her phone by 8/6/2010. Very cool to see it from a teen’s prospective.
I welcome your ideas and thoughts. The effects of the disaster are long term. I feel that this week-long trip will provide an opportunity for us and others to become emotionally connected and physically engaged with a situation that will need our attention for many years to come. I hold to the Truth that we are all a part of the solution to every aspect of our world.
There are several ways to be a part of this experience.
1. Follow us on www.danielwstoner.blogspot.com
2. If you would like to help sponsor our trip financially, send any contribution to Daniel Stoner PO Box 7712, Overland Park, Kansas, 66207-9998. Contributions made to Elizabeth and me will be used for expenses, purchasing supplies en route and donations to individuals/families/organization. non tax deductible
Donations can be made directly to Mobile Bay Keeper also.
3. Mobile Baykeeper 300 Dauphin Street, Suite 200_Mobile, AL 36602 info@mobilebaykeeper.org_Phone: (251) 433-4BAY (4229) or Toll Free 1-888-433-4460 Fax: (251) 432-8197 tax deductible
4. Contact me if you would like to make a supply donation for the drive to Mobile. I’ll post items needed. Cargo space is limited.
Please keep this journey in your heart and mind. Holding for us and for all we meet, healing, safety, purpose, energy, mindfulness, compassion and wellness.
I would be deeply grateful if you would consider forwarding this information to others you know who might be interested in participating in this spiritual journey--through prayers, donations or other support.
Many blessings,
Daniel Stoner
Daniel@danielwstoner.com 336-327-5993or www.danielwstoner@aol.com
A few years ago we met an amazing 10-year-old girl, Elizabeth. Having lost both of her parents, she faced an uncertain future. As her foster and eventually adoptive parents, our lives have been forever enriched, humbled, and enlightened. We knew we could not change or replace any unpleasant childhood memories. However, we did know that we could influence, guide and impact her tween/teen years. She continues to excel and shine spiritually, personally and academically. We are so very proud of her.
One of my heart commitments to Elizabeth was to share with her the best, and no so best, of my life experiences and explain what pulled or pushed me to make the choices I made. Five years ago, I served with the American Red Cross as a volunteer. Within a week after Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast, I was in Mobile Alabama doing a variety of jobs, from rescuing injured dogs, serving meals, delivering first aid supplies and being present to listen to people who had lost so much.
With the devastation caused by the recent oil spill, my connection to our neighbors to the south is calling. I believe we can help: Elizabeth and I are driving to Mobile beginning on Friday, August 6, bringing needed supplies and picking up supplies from various organizations. While en route, we will keep an online blog, posting stories and pictures. We will share our experiences as we perform various tasks and participate in projects. Our goal is to make a difference during our journey, while we’re there, and back home.
Elizabeth will be creating a video/text blog from her phone by 8/6/2010. Very cool to see it from a teen’s prospective.
I welcome your ideas and thoughts. The effects of the disaster are long term. I feel that this week-long trip will provide an opportunity for us and others to become emotionally connected and physically engaged with a situation that will need our attention for many years to come. I hold to the Truth that we are all a part of the solution to every aspect of our world.
There are several ways to be a part of this experience.
1. Follow us on www.danielwstoner.blogspot.com
2. If you would like to help sponsor our trip financially, send any contribution to Daniel Stoner PO Box 7712, Overland Park, Kansas, 66207-9998. Contributions made to Elizabeth and me will be used for expenses, purchasing supplies en route and donations to individuals/families/organization. non tax deductible
Donations can be made directly to Mobile Bay Keeper also.
3. Mobile Baykeeper 300 Dauphin Street, Suite 200_Mobile, AL 36602 info@mobilebaykeeper.org_Phone: (251) 433-4BAY (4229) or Toll Free 1-888-433-4460 Fax: (251) 432-8197 tax deductible
4. Contact me if you would like to make a supply donation for the drive to Mobile. I’ll post items needed. Cargo space is limited.
Please keep this journey in your heart and mind. Holding for us and for all we meet, healing, safety, purpose, energy, mindfulness, compassion and wellness.
I would be deeply grateful if you would consider forwarding this information to others you know who might be interested in participating in this spiritual journey--through prayers, donations or other support.
Many blessings,
Daniel Stoner
Daniel@danielwstoner.com 336-327-5993or www.danielwstoner@aol.com
REPOST Hurricane Katrina
Sat. 9/10
I woke up this morning feeling very odd. For me feeling a little odd is not unusual, compared to most people, but today I can’t get this story out of my mind. A few months ago I was at a social gathering in Greensboro. A man, very nice looking and well dressed, was visiting and told me a story that continues to linger in my heart and mind. He had been a very successful businessman in Florida. I’m changing the state and his name for his anonymity. He had some personal problems and struggles that he was not dealing with very well. His wife left him and the legal battle began. After a year or so of costly court cases and legal fees, she got half of what he had before the separation. He went into bankruptcy and eventually lost everything. He had little family and no children. He used a “ Liquid Band-aid” to get him through the rough times. He ended up on the streets of Miami. Walking the same streets that he used to drive a 700 series down every morning. He couldn’t afford the coffee shop any longer, nor the bagel store or the café. Months past and he was now living on the street. He would see people he knew and they wouldn’t speak. Strangers would toss him change without him asking for it but would not look at him. He would go to shank someone’s hand and they would not reach out for his. This continued for almost three years. He didn’t have physical contact with anyone else for almost three years. No one spoke his name or look him in the eye with any respect. I can’t imagine not hearing my name for three years. Finally, he said, “ I felt I had one chance left and I had to take it.” He took off the bandage, called some old business vendors, got a job, got a apartment, rode the bus, starting selling for his old competition, got a promotion, got a house, made manager, etc, etc….
Nine years later better of financial than he was before. He said he’d rather not go through it again but he would do it again to keep what he had learned in the past nine years. The best lesson was to look people in the eye when you shake their hand. Did I shake peoples hands yesterday when I was passing out waters? I did for most people but not for all. I did introduce myself and most people said their names back.
Maybe that’s why the story is stuck in my mind. Yesterday, by simply shaking someone’s hand, I could have been breaking a cycle for him or her. My dad, Allen, he died in June, was known for his handshake and smile. Today, I'll make shaking hands as important as the “Big Stuff".
It’s after 9:00am and I’m running late. I’ll write later.
It’s later and I’m exhausted. I hauled debris for a local neighbor today. I saw them working on the street and asked if they needed help. Of course they said yes. It’s a really nice feeling when people asked me if I’m from here. I say no, I’m just here to help. They usually hug me or say something nice about North Carolinians. A man today said to me “you must have a great mom and dad.” I said “ Sure do” Nite dad
I woke up this morning feeling very odd. For me feeling a little odd is not unusual, compared to most people, but today I can’t get this story out of my mind. A few months ago I was at a social gathering in Greensboro. A man, very nice looking and well dressed, was visiting and told me a story that continues to linger in my heart and mind. He had been a very successful businessman in Florida. I’m changing the state and his name for his anonymity. He had some personal problems and struggles that he was not dealing with very well. His wife left him and the legal battle began. After a year or so of costly court cases and legal fees, she got half of what he had before the separation. He went into bankruptcy and eventually lost everything. He had little family and no children. He used a “ Liquid Band-aid” to get him through the rough times. He ended up on the streets of Miami. Walking the same streets that he used to drive a 700 series down every morning. He couldn’t afford the coffee shop any longer, nor the bagel store or the café. Months past and he was now living on the street. He would see people he knew and they wouldn’t speak. Strangers would toss him change without him asking for it but would not look at him. He would go to shank someone’s hand and they would not reach out for his. This continued for almost three years. He didn’t have physical contact with anyone else for almost three years. No one spoke his name or look him in the eye with any respect. I can’t imagine not hearing my name for three years. Finally, he said, “ I felt I had one chance left and I had to take it.” He took off the bandage, called some old business vendors, got a job, got a apartment, rode the bus, starting selling for his old competition, got a promotion, got a house, made manager, etc, etc….
Nine years later better of financial than he was before. He said he’d rather not go through it again but he would do it again to keep what he had learned in the past nine years. The best lesson was to look people in the eye when you shake their hand. Did I shake peoples hands yesterday when I was passing out waters? I did for most people but not for all. I did introduce myself and most people said their names back.
Maybe that’s why the story is stuck in my mind. Yesterday, by simply shaking someone’s hand, I could have been breaking a cycle for him or her. My dad, Allen, he died in June, was known for his handshake and smile. Today, I'll make shaking hands as important as the “Big Stuff".
It’s after 9:00am and I’m running late. I’ll write later.
It’s later and I’m exhausted. I hauled debris for a local neighbor today. I saw them working on the street and asked if they needed help. Of course they said yes. It’s a really nice feeling when people asked me if I’m from here. I say no, I’m just here to help. They usually hug me or say something nice about North Carolinians. A man today said to me “you must have a great mom and dad.” I said “ Sure do” Nite dad
REPOST Hurricane Katrina
Thurs. 9/9/05
6:15 am
“Ouch”. What did I expect would be my first words after a day like yesterday? No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. Showered, shaved, dressed and out the door, but Sam wasn’t there to greet me this morning.
Greg, from the Distribution Center, picked me up for work. He wasn’t as quite as he had been. He’s a proud man. Pride is like a double-edged sword sometimes. It can keep you from doing things you shouldn’t yet sometimes keep you from doing something you should, i.e. asking for help. I hope he soon finds that balance. I recognize the “ Balance” dichotomy because I too suffer from it.
The Distribution Center was in full force by the time we arrived. The overnight trailers of bottled water were downloaded, processed and moved to their place on the warehouse floor. The stress and long hours are beginning to show on the faces of the crews. Yet they don’t stop. The Belgium crew is amazing. Everyone continue pushing to get the next trailer load of supplies out to Gulfport or where ever.
9:15am
John, the volunteer Mobile Staff person, asked if I could be a part of the Red Cross convoy delivering supplies into Biloxi. Ten minutes later I was being briefed by the Red Cross staff on the rules, regulations and protocol for dealing with Red Cross supplies.
Some procedures included: door locked at all times, truck windows up, police escort once off the interstate and wait for clearance before exiting the vehicle.
Were we entering a war zone or the gentle Southern town of Biloxi? I soon realized the thin layer of difference between the two. It took about 2 hours to travel the 50 miles between Mobile and Biloxi. The progression of destruction intensified every mile. First the billboards were damaged and there was more road litter than normal. Within 10 miles of the city limits of Biloxi, the true force of Katrina began to be revealed. It’s almost indescribable. The flood line of debrie was about 12 ft. from the ground in areas. The definite horizontal line of trash, clothes and housing insulation ran parallel to the interstate. “It looks like winter here,” I said to Lynne, my team member. All the trees were bear, the leaves had been striped by the tremendous winds and the greenery was brown because of the salt water. The shoulders and curbs were lost beneath the debre and power lines weave within them like garland on a Christmas tree.
We pulled of the interstate and were met by the Mississippi Highway Patrol. They escort all relief personel and transports. It’s not only for navigational purposes, because most streets are impassable so alternate routes are in place, but earlier in the week it was for the protection and to safeguard the supplies.
I can’t describe it. I just can’t. I took a few photos of the areas near the highway but
they just can’t show the immense damage. A boat was resting perfectly on top of a drive-thru restaurant. As if someone had carefully placed it there with no concern about the structure beneath. We arrived at the Methodist church where the local victims could receive basic supplies. People, dazed and exhausted, smiled as we walked up. I felt almost as if they saw us not so much as relief workers but as though we held the key to making things the way they were. A Vietnamese man I met had lost everything. I’ll try to describe what it is like. Imagine standing on your front porch and looking across your street. Everything that is familiar to you. Look passed your neighbor’s home, passed the next row of houses, passed the next street, seeing the lights of the neighborhood beyond yours. Now imagine it’s all gone. Gone. Not just your home and front porch but your trees, and your neighbor’s home and trees, the street behind you is gone. If it’s not completely taken away it’s buried beneath layers of downed trees. What you know as a symbol of your visible reality is gone. The Vietnamese man spent the last 31 years bringing his and his wife’s family to the United States. They owned 2 businesses, 3 houses and I believe he said 5 cars. “ Nothing, no more. Nothing” he kept repeating.
“ Don’t cry Daniel,” I said silently to myself,.
“ Let him see hope on my face.” I thought “ and be someone to listen to him grieve.”
It sound a little self-center but I don’t mean it that way. The other volunteers and I represent hope. Sure we are bringing supplies and food but we also, in someway, bring back a little of yesterday. Yesterday when things were better. The faces of some of them seemed very confused toward their surroundings. As if they had been picked up then dropped down on the moon. Betty was the head of the church’s relief efforts. It’s surprising, not really, that almost all the shelters are headed by women. She invited us to sit down for lunch. A group from northern Alabama had driven down with a feast of fried chicken, green beans, slaw, iced tea, etc. for the church staff. Betty invited us to join them. We declined and stated that we would begin downloading the palates.
“ Nobody works during dinner when I’m in charge,” Betty said. “We’d loved to it you’re sure there’s enough” Lynne quickly replied. “ It’s the first hot meal we’ve had in seven days,” Betty added. I walked away for a moment. They had not eaten a hot meal in a week, yet refused to eat while we worked. I don’t understand the human spirit in times like these. How can a disaster bring some, like Betty, limitless compassion and resilience yet push others to pick up arms? They hoard more supplies and food then they can ever use. Leaving others without.
That will be question 249 to ask God. I have a list going since that age of 6.
The convoy that I was a part of included three others from eastern North Carolina. We finished downloading the supplies and headed to Gulfport, Miss. What an awful drive. Nothing was left undamaged. Those huge billboards that line the interstate were bent as if they had simply melted in the hot Mississippi sun. Mounds of trash (what used to be furnishings and family treasures) litter the road. As we entered the neighborhood I had not been prepared for what I experienced. The surplus fish from the fish distributors on the coast had been pushed, by the surge, 3 miles inland. This neighborhood, buried beneath countless trees, had thousands of rotting fish. People still had to continue to survive. This was, is, their home. Fuel is hard to find for even chain saws.
Our final drop was to a shelter out in the country. Water is being restored but is not suitable for drinking. The drive was very reflective. Lynne and I knew that they laughter and light hearted conversation on the trip down would fade, but we did realize just how much. We discussed how part of our main job was to listen. Just to listen. Listen to the fears, the pain, the loss and the anger. Just listening can sometimes be a challenge for Daniel Stoner. But I, don't ask me how, did just listen. We turned off the highway and stopped to comprehend what was in front of us. Almost complete destruction. It was like Paul Bunyan had used a huge dull machete and clear-cut every tree as far as we could see. The trees, 12 or so feet from the ground, were gone, broken, twisted or split. All of the debris had to fall somewhere and it fell onto the houses and the roads. Commercial chain saws had cut a clear passage along the main road. We could see very few homes because of the amount of debris. Signs were placed along the road telling passersby what they needed and even more surprisingly, what they had to offer. “ We need gas. We have extra water.” for example. It didn’t say trade or sell, it said “ have extra”. Amazing. Yes Lynne and I are crying as we drive the truck at this point.
Everyone is dirty and tried. Some of the victim’s tempers are short and yet others are so passive. This is Gulfport, Mississippi not some remote island. I remember this area five years ago. It was the quintessential southern country road. Massive live oaks branches with Spanish moss hovered over the road. Very little of those remain.
It’s been 8 days since the storm and people still say” Thank you” as you hand them supplies. This one guy, his family and I at the last stop had a great laugh. He was talking about being so dirty and he knew he was really dirty because he stopped being able to smell himself. “ That’s pretty damn bad” he said” When you know you smell like …….but you can’t even tell anymore,. That’s bad. But we don’t have any damn water” He said a few more four letter and then look at me as if he had seen a ghost. “ Man, I’m so sorry about my mouth. My mama raised me better than that.” Then he started to cry. I went out on a limb and said “ This is a damn Red Cross truck not a church one.” He started laughing. “ Thank you , man. You knew what I thinking.” “Yeah, It’s all good. We’re just here to help.” I said. I received some great hug from he and his family. I was a good thing he had lost the sense of smell for awhile also. The drive back took almost 3 hours. The day ended about 10:00pm.
6:15 am
“Ouch”. What did I expect would be my first words after a day like yesterday? No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. Showered, shaved, dressed and out the door, but Sam wasn’t there to greet me this morning.
Greg, from the Distribution Center, picked me up for work. He wasn’t as quite as he had been. He’s a proud man. Pride is like a double-edged sword sometimes. It can keep you from doing things you shouldn’t yet sometimes keep you from doing something you should, i.e. asking for help. I hope he soon finds that balance. I recognize the “ Balance” dichotomy because I too suffer from it.
The Distribution Center was in full force by the time we arrived. The overnight trailers of bottled water were downloaded, processed and moved to their place on the warehouse floor. The stress and long hours are beginning to show on the faces of the crews. Yet they don’t stop. The Belgium crew is amazing. Everyone continue pushing to get the next trailer load of supplies out to Gulfport or where ever.
9:15am
John, the volunteer Mobile Staff person, asked if I could be a part of the Red Cross convoy delivering supplies into Biloxi. Ten minutes later I was being briefed by the Red Cross staff on the rules, regulations and protocol for dealing with Red Cross supplies.
Some procedures included: door locked at all times, truck windows up, police escort once off the interstate and wait for clearance before exiting the vehicle.
Were we entering a war zone or the gentle Southern town of Biloxi? I soon realized the thin layer of difference between the two. It took about 2 hours to travel the 50 miles between Mobile and Biloxi. The progression of destruction intensified every mile. First the billboards were damaged and there was more road litter than normal. Within 10 miles of the city limits of Biloxi, the true force of Katrina began to be revealed. It’s almost indescribable. The flood line of debrie was about 12 ft. from the ground in areas. The definite horizontal line of trash, clothes and housing insulation ran parallel to the interstate. “It looks like winter here,” I said to Lynne, my team member. All the trees were bear, the leaves had been striped by the tremendous winds and the greenery was brown because of the salt water. The shoulders and curbs were lost beneath the debre and power lines weave within them like garland on a Christmas tree.
We pulled of the interstate and were met by the Mississippi Highway Patrol. They escort all relief personel and transports. It’s not only for navigational purposes, because most streets are impassable so alternate routes are in place, but earlier in the week it was for the protection and to safeguard the supplies.
I can’t describe it. I just can’t. I took a few photos of the areas near the highway but
they just can’t show the immense damage. A boat was resting perfectly on top of a drive-thru restaurant. As if someone had carefully placed it there with no concern about the structure beneath. We arrived at the Methodist church where the local victims could receive basic supplies. People, dazed and exhausted, smiled as we walked up. I felt almost as if they saw us not so much as relief workers but as though we held the key to making things the way they were. A Vietnamese man I met had lost everything. I’ll try to describe what it is like. Imagine standing on your front porch and looking across your street. Everything that is familiar to you. Look passed your neighbor’s home, passed the next row of houses, passed the next street, seeing the lights of the neighborhood beyond yours. Now imagine it’s all gone. Gone. Not just your home and front porch but your trees, and your neighbor’s home and trees, the street behind you is gone. If it’s not completely taken away it’s buried beneath layers of downed trees. What you know as a symbol of your visible reality is gone. The Vietnamese man spent the last 31 years bringing his and his wife’s family to the United States. They owned 2 businesses, 3 houses and I believe he said 5 cars. “ Nothing, no more. Nothing” he kept repeating.
“ Don’t cry Daniel,” I said silently to myself,.
“ Let him see hope on my face.” I thought “ and be someone to listen to him grieve.”
It sound a little self-center but I don’t mean it that way. The other volunteers and I represent hope. Sure we are bringing supplies and food but we also, in someway, bring back a little of yesterday. Yesterday when things were better. The faces of some of them seemed very confused toward their surroundings. As if they had been picked up then dropped down on the moon. Betty was the head of the church’s relief efforts. It’s surprising, not really, that almost all the shelters are headed by women. She invited us to sit down for lunch. A group from northern Alabama had driven down with a feast of fried chicken, green beans, slaw, iced tea, etc. for the church staff. Betty invited us to join them. We declined and stated that we would begin downloading the palates.
“ Nobody works during dinner when I’m in charge,” Betty said. “We’d loved to it you’re sure there’s enough” Lynne quickly replied. “ It’s the first hot meal we’ve had in seven days,” Betty added. I walked away for a moment. They had not eaten a hot meal in a week, yet refused to eat while we worked. I don’t understand the human spirit in times like these. How can a disaster bring some, like Betty, limitless compassion and resilience yet push others to pick up arms? They hoard more supplies and food then they can ever use. Leaving others without.
That will be question 249 to ask God. I have a list going since that age of 6.
The convoy that I was a part of included three others from eastern North Carolina. We finished downloading the supplies and headed to Gulfport, Miss. What an awful drive. Nothing was left undamaged. Those huge billboards that line the interstate were bent as if they had simply melted in the hot Mississippi sun. Mounds of trash (what used to be furnishings and family treasures) litter the road. As we entered the neighborhood I had not been prepared for what I experienced. The surplus fish from the fish distributors on the coast had been pushed, by the surge, 3 miles inland. This neighborhood, buried beneath countless trees, had thousands of rotting fish. People still had to continue to survive. This was, is, their home. Fuel is hard to find for even chain saws.
Our final drop was to a shelter out in the country. Water is being restored but is not suitable for drinking. The drive was very reflective. Lynne and I knew that they laughter and light hearted conversation on the trip down would fade, but we did realize just how much. We discussed how part of our main job was to listen. Just to listen. Listen to the fears, the pain, the loss and the anger. Just listening can sometimes be a challenge for Daniel Stoner. But I, don't ask me how, did just listen. We turned off the highway and stopped to comprehend what was in front of us. Almost complete destruction. It was like Paul Bunyan had used a huge dull machete and clear-cut every tree as far as we could see. The trees, 12 or so feet from the ground, were gone, broken, twisted or split. All of the debris had to fall somewhere and it fell onto the houses and the roads. Commercial chain saws had cut a clear passage along the main road. We could see very few homes because of the amount of debris. Signs were placed along the road telling passersby what they needed and even more surprisingly, what they had to offer. “ We need gas. We have extra water.” for example. It didn’t say trade or sell, it said “ have extra”. Amazing. Yes Lynne and I are crying as we drive the truck at this point.
Everyone is dirty and tried. Some of the victim’s tempers are short and yet others are so passive. This is Gulfport, Mississippi not some remote island. I remember this area five years ago. It was the quintessential southern country road. Massive live oaks branches with Spanish moss hovered over the road. Very little of those remain.
It’s been 8 days since the storm and people still say” Thank you” as you hand them supplies. This one guy, his family and I at the last stop had a great laugh. He was talking about being so dirty and he knew he was really dirty because he stopped being able to smell himself. “ That’s pretty damn bad” he said” When you know you smell like …….but you can’t even tell anymore,. That’s bad. But we don’t have any damn water” He said a few more four letter and then look at me as if he had seen a ghost. “ Man, I’m so sorry about my mouth. My mama raised me better than that.” Then he started to cry. I went out on a limb and said “ This is a damn Red Cross truck not a church one.” He started laughing. “ Thank you , man. You knew what I thinking.” “Yeah, It’s all good. We’re just here to help.” I said. I received some great hug from he and his family. I was a good thing he had lost the sense of smell for awhile also. The drive back took almost 3 hours. The day ended about 10:00pm.
REPOST Hurricane Katrina
Weds. 9.7.05
It’s a beautiful day in Mobile. That’s good thing considering the number of damage from Katrina and the number of people without proper shelter just to the south of us.
I got up this morning about 6:00am and found a wonderful surprise waiting for me at my front door. Sam, the dog I found the day before, was still sleeping just where I had left him the night before. I was so excited that I almost broke his back hugging him. I had found a few places through the yellow pages to hit for volunteer work and I call them. The first one was All Saint Episcopal on Government Ave. They were fantastic. They happen to be located just 2 blocks from where I am staying so Sam and I could walk it, no trouble.
I arrived about five minutes before morning Communion service so things were a little busy. They ask me if I wanted to take communion, being Presbyterian I wasn’t sure it that was OK, “ Sure, why not” was the response I got from 3 ladies in unison. Sam was taken to the office to relax in air-conditioned luxury and enjoy some cold water. I suspect that was a treat he had not experienced in quite a long time. The priest spoke on the “Showing of one’s face to the deep”, deep meaning chaos and face meaning beliefs. That to face the deep (chaos) in your life you much stand and believe that clam and order are possible.
I needed to hear that and knew I was where I was supposed to be. After communion, I returned to the church office to find Sam had stolen the show. The office manager found Sam a good home with a large back yard, Brenda had offered to loan me a bike for the week and hooked me up with the Volunteer Mobile center. I was a happy camper.
It took about an hour to ride to the Emergency Distribution Center on Interstate 10, four groups including the American Red Cross. If I didn’t know God had me were he wanted me, I doubt I would have been riding that old bike on Government Ave, four lane no less. The distribution center is an old Sam’s Club converted just for Katrina. I signed in and was immediately assign to the sorting area for food donations. Not corporate donation of palates of waters or truck loads of the same cereal. It was the boxes of assorted canned items or boxes of suggested dinners, very lovingly planned out and purchased by individual meaning nothing but to be helpful, nevertheless, each box must contain the same type item. Boxes of corn become a palate of corn; cases of water become a palate of water and so on. So that meant a box containing a jar of cranberry sauce, a can of green beans, can of cream corn, muffin mix, gravy mix, white cake mix, etc. (a complete dinner) had to disassembled. Reason being, when things are requested and shipped out, they are shipped by palates of the same items. It’s the only way mass distribution can take place and supplies can get to the people who prepare the food. It was very frustrating because of the red tape that’s involved in getting packing tape. The government is telling us they will supply tape. Sharpies, among the many other supplies needed in just the one area I’m working with. Yet, 7 days later there are few to no supplies for preparing items for shipping. Volunteers, out of their own pockets and the Red Cross are buying supplies. Now the stores around are running out of supplies. Very unnecessary. So I called my church, West Minster Presbyterian, along with Paul Russ at Hospice and they jumped on it. West Minster sent out a huge box of 100 rolls of tape, etc. and Paul sent out an email to our friend group and they are sending supplies to the Distribution Center. That address is
The American Red Cross
Distribution Center
1100 South Beltline Hwy.
Mobile, Alabama 36609
I would suggest if you want to send anything, send one type. One box of 20, or more, rolls of clear packing tape, packs of wide black sharpies, etc. Mark it “ Packing Supplies” attention Distribution Manager.
I quickly rose to the head of the food assorting distribution area by being named the “most motivated”. I’ve heard that before, it’s code for bossy, but that’s ok. John, a staff member, and I along with 20 high school students hit it hard. The contributions were definitely varied to say the least. People are giving more than I bet they are keeping for their own families. Kay, Cynthia, Greg and I formed an instant bond. The kind you form when your working for the same goal, high pressure and limited time. Well. A 10-hour day seemed to fly by.
It was about time to leave when Greg asked me about the shelter in the area. I told him I wasn’t sure where they all were but there was one near my place. “Why, do we need to drop something off there?” I asked, He replied, “Well, no.” He needed to stay at a shelter. We had all worked together all day and Joe had not mentioned to anyone that for the passed 7 days, since the storm hit, he had been living in his car. His home on the beach, which belonged to a friend from Colorado, had been destroyed. He had been volunteering for 3 days to help the homeless and he had been homeless himself. All he wanted was a shower. It had been several days and he was embarrassed to even ask me if I knew somewhere he could bathe. I offered my place and he finally accepted. I assumed everyone around me would finish their day of helping and return to the comfort and security of a home. I assumed wronged. Greg came back to my place and showered. We sat on the step and chatted awhile. He moved back to the states from Ireland 2 weeks before Katrina hit. He had formed an alliance with some other displaced citizens, mostly the new homeless, where as they have “ Check-in” with each other.
I met people from everyone what of life today. Everyone working to help, any way they could. Tomorrow I may go the Gulfport with a convoy from the Red Cross.
There are Red Cross people here from France, Belguim and England. Thank you for today and the kindness I saw in the faces of so many people. Daniel
It’s a beautiful day in Mobile. That’s good thing considering the number of damage from Katrina and the number of people without proper shelter just to the south of us.
I got up this morning about 6:00am and found a wonderful surprise waiting for me at my front door. Sam, the dog I found the day before, was still sleeping just where I had left him the night before. I was so excited that I almost broke his back hugging him. I had found a few places through the yellow pages to hit for volunteer work and I call them. The first one was All Saint Episcopal on Government Ave. They were fantastic. They happen to be located just 2 blocks from where I am staying so Sam and I could walk it, no trouble.
I arrived about five minutes before morning Communion service so things were a little busy. They ask me if I wanted to take communion, being Presbyterian I wasn’t sure it that was OK, “ Sure, why not” was the response I got from 3 ladies in unison. Sam was taken to the office to relax in air-conditioned luxury and enjoy some cold water. I suspect that was a treat he had not experienced in quite a long time. The priest spoke on the “Showing of one’s face to the deep”, deep meaning chaos and face meaning beliefs. That to face the deep (chaos) in your life you much stand and believe that clam and order are possible.
I needed to hear that and knew I was where I was supposed to be. After communion, I returned to the church office to find Sam had stolen the show. The office manager found Sam a good home with a large back yard, Brenda had offered to loan me a bike for the week and hooked me up with the Volunteer Mobile center. I was a happy camper.
It took about an hour to ride to the Emergency Distribution Center on Interstate 10, four groups including the American Red Cross. If I didn’t know God had me were he wanted me, I doubt I would have been riding that old bike on Government Ave, four lane no less. The distribution center is an old Sam’s Club converted just for Katrina. I signed in and was immediately assign to the sorting area for food donations. Not corporate donation of palates of waters or truck loads of the same cereal. It was the boxes of assorted canned items or boxes of suggested dinners, very lovingly planned out and purchased by individual meaning nothing but to be helpful, nevertheless, each box must contain the same type item. Boxes of corn become a palate of corn; cases of water become a palate of water and so on. So that meant a box containing a jar of cranberry sauce, a can of green beans, can of cream corn, muffin mix, gravy mix, white cake mix, etc. (a complete dinner) had to disassembled. Reason being, when things are requested and shipped out, they are shipped by palates of the same items. It’s the only way mass distribution can take place and supplies can get to the people who prepare the food. It was very frustrating because of the red tape that’s involved in getting packing tape. The government is telling us they will supply tape. Sharpies, among the many other supplies needed in just the one area I’m working with. Yet, 7 days later there are few to no supplies for preparing items for shipping. Volunteers, out of their own pockets and the Red Cross are buying supplies. Now the stores around are running out of supplies. Very unnecessary. So I called my church, West Minster Presbyterian, along with Paul Russ at Hospice and they jumped on it. West Minster sent out a huge box of 100 rolls of tape, etc. and Paul sent out an email to our friend group and they are sending supplies to the Distribution Center. That address is
The American Red Cross
Distribution Center
1100 South Beltline Hwy.
Mobile, Alabama 36609
I would suggest if you want to send anything, send one type. One box of 20, or more, rolls of clear packing tape, packs of wide black sharpies, etc. Mark it “ Packing Supplies” attention Distribution Manager.
I quickly rose to the head of the food assorting distribution area by being named the “most motivated”. I’ve heard that before, it’s code for bossy, but that’s ok. John, a staff member, and I along with 20 high school students hit it hard. The contributions were definitely varied to say the least. People are giving more than I bet they are keeping for their own families. Kay, Cynthia, Greg and I formed an instant bond. The kind you form when your working for the same goal, high pressure and limited time. Well. A 10-hour day seemed to fly by.
It was about time to leave when Greg asked me about the shelter in the area. I told him I wasn’t sure where they all were but there was one near my place. “Why, do we need to drop something off there?” I asked, He replied, “Well, no.” He needed to stay at a shelter. We had all worked together all day and Joe had not mentioned to anyone that for the passed 7 days, since the storm hit, he had been living in his car. His home on the beach, which belonged to a friend from Colorado, had been destroyed. He had been volunteering for 3 days to help the homeless and he had been homeless himself. All he wanted was a shower. It had been several days and he was embarrassed to even ask me if I knew somewhere he could bathe. I offered my place and he finally accepted. I assumed everyone around me would finish their day of helping and return to the comfort and security of a home. I assumed wronged. Greg came back to my place and showered. We sat on the step and chatted awhile. He moved back to the states from Ireland 2 weeks before Katrina hit. He had formed an alliance with some other displaced citizens, mostly the new homeless, where as they have “ Check-in” with each other.
I met people from everyone what of life today. Everyone working to help, any way they could. Tomorrow I may go the Gulfport with a convoy from the Red Cross.
There are Red Cross people here from France, Belguim and England. Thank you for today and the kindness I saw in the faces of so many people. Daniel
REPOST Hurricane Katrina
Tuesday 9/6/05
10:30am
Delta Flight 1650 to Atlanta
I’m now on my way to Mobile, Alabama instead of Biloxi, Miss. I didn’t hear from the Red Cross yesterday so I made alternative plans. I had purchased my ticket last Tuesday into Biloxi however Delta informed me on Sunday that the airport in Gulfport would be closed until 9/12/05. Delta changed my flight into Mobile based on that information. They’ve been so help by communicating with me every change in my flight and having options for me when they call.
My main goal is to help. Part of that help comes from not becoming another mouth to feed, person to house or juggle. I’m working with local agencies as a local volunteer. Clothes that are lightweight, easily cleaned, drip dry are the best. Trust me, it’s OK to stink a little. No one cares.
I went online last night and found small family hotel in Mobile. It has power and some phone service. I contacted the Salvation Army of greater Mobile. Biloxi /Gulfport is 50 miles from Mobile. Mobile has damage but nothing like the Mississippi and Louisiana shoreline.
Sunday I contacted, by email, a small Episcopal Church in Biloxi. I haven’t heard back from them yet. Several of my friends and business associates are interesting in helping. We’re hoping to find a small church or organization for us to focus our ongoing effort on.
I am looking for people to assist, for the long term, while they begin to rebuild their lives.
I believe by forming a relationship and bond with a small group in the region, it will commit us emotionally, physically, spiritually and financially. A connection after they’re out of survival mode. Just a thought at this point, but a good one J
It’s weird to use the word “excited” to describe how I feel right now, but that where I am. I truly love that area of the world and part of me needs to see and feel the loss.
I know I’ll have different adjectives to share once I’m there and the comforts and security of the Atlanta are gone.
I’ve been in Mobile for about 2 hours. The man sitting beside me on the plane offered to give me a ride into Mobile. The are no rental cars available for 30 miles. The downtown area was flooded but the water did recede after only a couple of days. The only people in town are construction workers, police officers, a few business people and the homeless. I found an old Shepard mix dog under a bush at the courthouse. He was exhausted and looks as if he had not eaten in a week. I approached him and he didn’t respond except for moving his eyes. I found a sandwich shop open about four blocks away. Well Sam, his new name, loves him some Subways. I brought him back to my room.
The mood is weirder than the normal weird mood for Mobile. They missed the storm by a hair, and they know it. The storm was too close physically for people to feel that life can go on as normal. They dodged the bullet but the person beside them got it. I made some good connections for work tomorrow.
10:30am
Delta Flight 1650 to Atlanta
I’m now on my way to Mobile, Alabama instead of Biloxi, Miss. I didn’t hear from the Red Cross yesterday so I made alternative plans. I had purchased my ticket last Tuesday into Biloxi however Delta informed me on Sunday that the airport in Gulfport would be closed until 9/12/05. Delta changed my flight into Mobile based on that information. They’ve been so help by communicating with me every change in my flight and having options for me when they call.
My main goal is to help. Part of that help comes from not becoming another mouth to feed, person to house or juggle. I’m working with local agencies as a local volunteer. Clothes that are lightweight, easily cleaned, drip dry are the best. Trust me, it’s OK to stink a little. No one cares.
I went online last night and found small family hotel in Mobile. It has power and some phone service. I contacted the Salvation Army of greater Mobile. Biloxi /Gulfport is 50 miles from Mobile. Mobile has damage but nothing like the Mississippi and Louisiana shoreline.
Sunday I contacted, by email, a small Episcopal Church in Biloxi. I haven’t heard back from them yet. Several of my friends and business associates are interesting in helping. We’re hoping to find a small church or organization for us to focus our ongoing effort on.
I am looking for people to assist, for the long term, while they begin to rebuild their lives.
I believe by forming a relationship and bond with a small group in the region, it will commit us emotionally, physically, spiritually and financially. A connection after they’re out of survival mode. Just a thought at this point, but a good one J
It’s weird to use the word “excited” to describe how I feel right now, but that where I am. I truly love that area of the world and part of me needs to see and feel the loss.
I know I’ll have different adjectives to share once I’m there and the comforts and security of the Atlanta are gone.
I’ve been in Mobile for about 2 hours. The man sitting beside me on the plane offered to give me a ride into Mobile. The are no rental cars available for 30 miles. The downtown area was flooded but the water did recede after only a couple of days. The only people in town are construction workers, police officers, a few business people and the homeless. I found an old Shepard mix dog under a bush at the courthouse. He was exhausted and looks as if he had not eaten in a week. I approached him and he didn’t respond except for moving his eyes. I found a sandwich shop open about four blocks away. Well Sam, his new name, loves him some Subways. I brought him back to my room.
The mood is weirder than the normal weird mood for Mobile. They missed the storm by a hair, and they know it. The storm was too close physically for people to feel that life can go on as normal. They dodged the bullet but the person beside them got it. I made some good connections for work tomorrow.
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