John Prust

Submitted by Stephanie Wert ... on July 18, 2008 - 3:49pm.

Service Trip Participant - 2008

The Gulf Coast region is a puzzle board of radically different stories that would never have taken shape without the events of August 25, 2005. Each story is different, yet each is an integral part of the new web of narrative that comprises the region affected by the storm. At Camp Coast Care, we listened to these stories and in the process we ourselves became new pieces of the puzzle board.

It is important that these stories are told, and once told they must continue to be heard in places the Gulf Coast residents themselves are unable to reach.

These people must not be forgotten. Even though the government and economy (the insurance companies) have failed to respond appropriately, as long as their stories are told there is hope, and as long as there is hope there is renewal.

While volunteers such as those in The Beatitudes Society provide physical reconstruction during their one-week stay in the Gulf region, the pieces they add to the puzzle have the power of reverberating and exponentially creating new pieces. For this reason especially, they are critical to the mission of Camp Coast Care and the Beatitudes Society itself. Listening to and responding to the stories of those affected by Katrina wields tremendous power in strengthening a network of renewal in America.

Among the many stories I heard in Mississippi was the story of Jerry, the director of facilities at Camp Coast Care. As I drove around on procurement duty with Jerry on my first day at Camp Coast Care, I gently prodded him with questions and comments in order to solicit responses as to how the storm may have affected him and his family. To him, I am sure I was just another wide-eyed volunteer who would come and go, and he could have easily dismissed me.

Although he seemed weary of telling his story, he spoke up as if he knew that it needed to be told. Jerry was a newcomer to the region. Born and raised in Indiana, he had moved down to Mississippi only a year before the storm to teach at the local middle school. He was an alumnus of the Big Ten Conference academic and athletic powerhouse of Indiana University who had just begun settling in with his life in southern Mississippi when Katrina had struck. It had radically changed his life.

From what I could garner, he was no longer married, and nor was he middle school teacher. He was living in part of the country that was not his own and employed in an occupation that he had not been trained for. Five years earlier, he never could have guessed how radically his life was about to change. He is now employed in the economy of rebuilding a shattered region.

My last three days as a volunteer were spent under the supervision of Darrell, a contractor employed by Camp Coast Care. Not every story in the Gulf Coast is a story of grief, loss, and destruction. There are also stories of hope and opportunity, and it is into this category that Darrell’s story falls. Unlike Jerry and many others, Darrell was not present during the storm. Unlike most jobs, opportunities in the construction industry would be ripe in southern Mississippi.

Darrell moved down to the area after the storm in order to secure a steady job as a contractor, and while most people have suffered from the destruction caused by Katrina on most sectors of the Gulf Coast economy, Darrell has thrived as a contractor. Most in the region seem downcast and dejected as they work to rebuild their lives, but Darrell’s wide-eyed enthusiasm is a witness to his obvious joy at finding opportunity where others would be least likely to look for it.
Another story that struck me was that of Rev. David Knight. As the rector of the local Episcopal Church, David was saddened by the destruction of St. Patrick’s, but he was one of the lucky ones whose home was left relatively unharmed. From the base of security that he and his wife were able to maintain, which included continuing support from the church, they were among the few who were in a position to act as caregivers. Three years after the storm, the wells from which they had been gathering the necessary strength to provide care seemed to be drying up, and it was obvious that he and his wife desperately needed spiritual and personal renewal if they were to continue as caregivers. I was impressed by the care that he and his wife had been providing but saddened by the sight of their clearly ebbing strength.

Besides the residents directly affected by the storm, the soul of the region continues to be worked like red clay that makes up its soil by the hundreds of volunteers who continue to forsake their own lives for the sake of helping rebuild the lives of the Gulf Coast’s residents. Each individual volunteer adds to the puzzle that is being shaped and reshaped every day. They physically add pieces of the puzzle while siding, tiling, or roofing, and provide a floor plan of strength in the solidarity they share with one another and with the residents from upon which the region can build itself up.

I was mesmerized by 72 year old, Baire, from Laguna Beach, CA, who wielded the power saw and mastered the measuring and cutting of pieces of siding. Paul from Maryland made sure that we were constantly on our feet by supplying instructions and the get-go to get the job done if Darrell was not around. In addition, he supplied the enthusiasm that had a tendency to be lacking late in the hot sun of the Mississippi afternoon. Paul would have literally worked until dusk and been back in the wee hours of the morning if he could have. “I have one week here”, he said later in the car, “and I want to work as much as possible while I am here.” His physical and emotional enthusiasm provided the energy that we all needed and continually uplifted the rest of us.

Finally, the National Civilian Conservation Corps-- Americrops-- volunteers were testimony to the young people in America who are getting work done in places that the capitalist economy ignores.
These people are the Gulf Coast. They and countless others have stories to tell if only anybody would listen. Our first job is to listen but once we have heard, we have the responsibility to act, especially if we are in better position than the residents themselves to do so. The least we can do, really, is to spread the word and tell their stories.

 

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