As Thanksgiving Day approaches, my prayers and memories are especially directed toward the people we met in Mississippi and Louisiana and the challenges they - and people like them - face in the aftermath of the hurricanes. The Church and the people of the Gulf Coast need our prayers and support now and for months and years to come.
You'll be reading more articles about our Catholic Media Tour of the Gulf Coast nine weeks after Hurricane Katrina hit. The important stories are about people, but the places where they lived, prayed and played have been transformed forever. To share a sense of the places we visited, I produced this short Video Album of images I shot between October 30 and November 4 - nine weeks after Katrina. I invite you to view Album. Make sure your speakers are turned on.
-Jim Coyle
(This online video version posted May 11, 2006, replacing a link to another hosting site)
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Thanksgiving in a FEMA Trailer
Al Tompkins of The Poynter Institute, a professional school for journalists, future journalists, and teachers of journalists, writes a daily online column with story ideas for and from journalists. Today, the day before Thanksgiving, he shares from his heart about a recent volunteer trip he took to the Mississippi Gulf Coast and issues a call for all journalists.
Jim Coyle
Thanksgiving in a FEMA Trailer
by Al Tompkins, The Poynter Institute
To many of you living and working in the storm-damaged Gulf Coast area, this may seem pretty obvious. I am not speaking to you. I am speaking to the rest of the country, which may have put your region on the back burner after months of focused attention.
A million or so people are not celebrating Thanksgiving in their homes this year. They are spread across all 50 states, living with family, friends or strangers. They are crammed into one of the 125,000 FEMA-purchased mobile home trailers that are serving as temporary emergency housing.
I just returned from giving a measly few days of work to the effort to rebuild southern Mississippi. I met people there who have been doing the work, week after week, since the storm passed. They will go back many more times. Their dedication made me feel like a tourist. I was one of a large team of people who mostly spent our days hanging and mudding drywall in houses that had been gutted by other volunteers. I didn't muck out mud and debris, gut any moldy houses or clean refrigerators filled with rotten maggot-infested food. The volunteers who came before us did those awful jobs.
I can't get the image of life inside a FEMA relief trailer off my mind. Those little white trailers are parked in driveways, line narrow side streets and occupy open spaces in Mississippi and Louisiana. My mind is on the thousands of families who will not sit down around a big Norman Rockwell-esque banquet table tomorrow. They are still in those crammed little FEMA trailers waiting for their homes to be rebuilt. The trailers I was in were barely larger than a popup camper that a family of four might take on a weekend outing to a state park. One minister I met asked the (rhetorical) question, "Can you imagine living in one with a wife and two teenagers for a winter?" He says he knows such a family.
To get an idea of how bad things are for people in places like D'Iberville, Miss., you have to watch as one of these little campers arrives in the front yard. Families rejoice, because a trailer with bathrooms the size of coat closets has arrived. It says something about how they had been living before that trailer was parked in front of their destroyed home.
Larger FEMA trailers will soon be in use at a school where we worked, near Vancleve, Miss. Sometime after Christmas, kids will be able to have their own classroom trailer there. They will no longer have to share a school building in a split day -- students attend from 7 in the morning until lunch time, then another set of kids attend from early afternoon to early evening -- sharing the same classrooms.
Some Floridians who fell victim to Hurricane Charlie in 2004 are still living in FEMA trailer communities. Those people need our attention too.
Time magazine today has an insightful package of stories about the difficult lives of Katrina victims on this Thanksgiving eve.
Like an ice cream truck driving a small town street in summer, a Red Cross truck crept through the streets of D'Iberville at dusk Sunday. A cheerful woman called out over a loudspeaker "hot meals -- hot meals." Shadows trudged to her truck window, then carried Styrofoam boxes filled with warm food. The lady offered relief workers food too. She said it was "steak." We didn't take it -- but I wish now that I had looked inside the box to see what Sunday dinner would be for those who didn't have a choice.
I suspect a fair number of families will be sitting down to a Thanksgiving dinner that arrives in one of those Red Cross vans tomorrow. They are on my mind today. I hope they have sweet potatoes. I hope they have pie.
For thousands of families who do eat dinner together tomorrow, it won't be the same as before. Some told us that they are still living elbow-to-elbow with extended family in crowded homes. One woman, for whom we hung drywall in the home that her husband built, told us that there were three families -- 10 people -- living in her son's house. If disaster teams keep coming, she hopes to be back in the little frame house for Christmas. If they allow "disaster fatigue" to set in, if the relief workers stop coming, who knows when she will get her home back. Her home was uninsured; she cannot afford the sheetrock, the labor, the supplies that it would take to rebuild. Churches she has never attended, from towns she has never heard of, have donated everything.
I am thinking today of the volunteers at churches and relief centers who are cooking Thanksgiving meals for disaster workers and victims -- just as they have cooked meals for weeks upon numbing weeks -- and will be, for months to come. You can see them as you drive down the streets of cities like D'Iberville, Miss. Some are working out of big white tents, called "Volunteer Villages," that have popped up because of the need for housing for out-of-town volunteers. The repeat volunteers must be bone-tired from it all. But I did not see one -- not one -- who was unkind, and I did not hear one volunteer say an unpleasant word.
I am thinking today of the journalists who have covered so many painful stories, while their own losses and the stress they were (and continue to be) under were just as great as those of the people they covered.
I also heard from those who live in the storm-damaged area, but who survived with minimal damage. They have a different burden -- a sense of guilt that others have suffered so unjustifiably.
I say all of this to urge you journalists, especially those of you outside of the storm-damaged area of the Gulf Coast, to keep telling the stories of the local relief crews that travel from your town to work in the hurricane-cleanup areas. There is so much more that needs to be done.
Some of these relief workers are idealistic young people. Others are senior citizens -- lifelong do-gooders who have donated their time and hands around the world. They gather from around the country and work in homes choked with drywall dust. They arrive as strangers, and yet the relief teams quickly grow curiously close.
Keep reporting the need for more help. Your stories will encourage others to volunteer. Don't think for a minute that the need for fundraisers, relief work or attention has passed. Don't stick those stories at the end of your newscasts or on inside pages because you think interest has waned. Do your best work -- there are lots of hurting people who need you still.
Jim Coyle
Thanksgiving in a FEMA Trailer
by Al Tompkins, The Poynter Institute
To many of you living and working in the storm-damaged Gulf Coast area, this may seem pretty obvious. I am not speaking to you. I am speaking to the rest of the country, which may have put your region on the back burner after months of focused attention.
A million or so people are not celebrating Thanksgiving in their homes this year. They are spread across all 50 states, living with family, friends or strangers. They are crammed into one of the 125,000 FEMA-purchased mobile home trailers that are serving as temporary emergency housing.
I just returned from giving a measly few days of work to the effort to rebuild southern Mississippi. I met people there who have been doing the work, week after week, since the storm passed. They will go back many more times. Their dedication made me feel like a tourist. I was one of a large team of people who mostly spent our days hanging and mudding drywall in houses that had been gutted by other volunteers. I didn't muck out mud and debris, gut any moldy houses or clean refrigerators filled with rotten maggot-infested food. The volunteers who came before us did those awful jobs.
I can't get the image of life inside a FEMA relief trailer off my mind. Those little white trailers are parked in driveways, line narrow side streets and occupy open spaces in Mississippi and Louisiana. My mind is on the thousands of families who will not sit down around a big Norman Rockwell-esque banquet table tomorrow. They are still in those crammed little FEMA trailers waiting for their homes to be rebuilt. The trailers I was in were barely larger than a popup camper that a family of four might take on a weekend outing to a state park. One minister I met asked the (rhetorical) question, "Can you imagine living in one with a wife and two teenagers for a winter?" He says he knows such a family.
To get an idea of how bad things are for people in places like D'Iberville, Miss., you have to watch as one of these little campers arrives in the front yard. Families rejoice, because a trailer with bathrooms the size of coat closets has arrived. It says something about how they had been living before that trailer was parked in front of their destroyed home.
Larger FEMA trailers will soon be in use at a school where we worked, near Vancleve, Miss. Sometime after Christmas, kids will be able to have their own classroom trailer there. They will no longer have to share a school building in a split day -- students attend from 7 in the morning until lunch time, then another set of kids attend from early afternoon to early evening -- sharing the same classrooms.
Some Floridians who fell victim to Hurricane Charlie in 2004 are still living in FEMA trailer communities. Those people need our attention too.
Time magazine today has an insightful package of stories about the difficult lives of Katrina victims on this Thanksgiving eve.
Like an ice cream truck driving a small town street in summer, a Red Cross truck crept through the streets of D'Iberville at dusk Sunday. A cheerful woman called out over a loudspeaker "hot meals -- hot meals." Shadows trudged to her truck window, then carried Styrofoam boxes filled with warm food. The lady offered relief workers food too. She said it was "steak." We didn't take it -- but I wish now that I had looked inside the box to see what Sunday dinner would be for those who didn't have a choice.
I suspect a fair number of families will be sitting down to a Thanksgiving dinner that arrives in one of those Red Cross vans tomorrow. They are on my mind today. I hope they have sweet potatoes. I hope they have pie.
For thousands of families who do eat dinner together tomorrow, it won't be the same as before. Some told us that they are still living elbow-to-elbow with extended family in crowded homes. One woman, for whom we hung drywall in the home that her husband built, told us that there were three families -- 10 people -- living in her son's house. If disaster teams keep coming, she hopes to be back in the little frame house for Christmas. If they allow "disaster fatigue" to set in, if the relief workers stop coming, who knows when she will get her home back. Her home was uninsured; she cannot afford the sheetrock, the labor, the supplies that it would take to rebuild. Churches she has never attended, from towns she has never heard of, have donated everything.
I am thinking today of the volunteers at churches and relief centers who are cooking Thanksgiving meals for disaster workers and victims -- just as they have cooked meals for weeks upon numbing weeks -- and will be, for months to come. You can see them as you drive down the streets of cities like D'Iberville, Miss. Some are working out of big white tents, called "Volunteer Villages," that have popped up because of the need for housing for out-of-town volunteers. The repeat volunteers must be bone-tired from it all. But I did not see one -- not one -- who was unkind, and I did not hear one volunteer say an unpleasant word.
I am thinking today of the journalists who have covered so many painful stories, while their own losses and the stress they were (and continue to be) under were just as great as those of the people they covered.
I also heard from those who live in the storm-damaged area, but who survived with minimal damage. They have a different burden -- a sense of guilt that others have suffered so unjustifiably.
I say all of this to urge you journalists, especially those of you outside of the storm-damaged area of the Gulf Coast, to keep telling the stories of the local relief crews that travel from your town to work in the hurricane-cleanup areas. There is so much more that needs to be done.
Some of these relief workers are idealistic young people. Others are senior citizens -- lifelong do-gooders who have donated their time and hands around the world. They gather from around the country and work in homes choked with drywall dust. They arrive as strangers, and yet the relief teams quickly grow curiously close.
Keep reporting the need for more help. Your stories will encourage others to volunteer. Don't think for a minute that the need for fundraisers, relief work or attention has passed. Don't stick those stories at the end of your newscasts or on inside pages because you think interest has waned. Do your best work -- there are lots of hurting people who need you still.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
A First Draft - Jim Coyle
“Are you ready for this?” That’s the question we were asked as we boarded the bus to New Orleans’ Lower Ninth Ward, perhaps the city’s hardest-hit area in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.
We were in the Lower Ninth Ward on the last day of our week in Mississippi and south Louisiana to witness first-hand the destruction brought by Hurricane Katrina. A small group of Catholic media professionals traveled from New York, Indiana and Ohio to the Mississippi Gulf coast and New Orleans to meet people affected by the storm and get a personal sense of life following Katrina. Each of us felt the need to have a better sense of life in these areas because it was clear to us that critical needs for support will continue for months, and as we found, years to come.
Like people around the world, we’d seen, heard and read news reports of Katrina’s destruction. But nothing prepared us for the scope of devastation we encountered. Our week was a physical and emotional roller coaster, one that I doubt any of us will ever forget, a week that will help us better tell the stories of people and their needs. A week when we witnessed the strength – and the fragility – of the human spirit. A week when we saw God at work in people’s lives through His Church and His people.
Our week began on Monday, October 31, nine weeks after Hurricane Katrina struck Louisiana and Mississippi. Half an hour after picking up the last member of our group at the Gulfport, MS, airport, we were standing in the midst of a neighborhood that was no more. Every home had been reduced to rubble – piles of wood, shingles, automobiles that had been totally destroyed by a storm surge almost 30 feet high in some areas – as high as a 3-story house. And this scene was repeated over and over as our host took us to different areas of the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Pass Christian, Waveland, Long Beach, Point Cadet, and many, many other areas devastated by Katrina.
There are many areas where structures can be repaired. Water and wind damage wasn’t as strong as in other areas. And there are many homes that received relatively little damage – and from these homes much help and service is being provided.
One of the many things we noticed was the large number of businesses that were closed because of storm damage or the lack of workers who had to leave because their homes were destroyed – or both.
We saw people before and after Mass who asked one another “How are you?” – and really meant it. And people lingered after Mass because it was one the few times many people saw one another since the storm. The parish was a place of community as never before.
Our week included times talking with Church leaders and parish members in Mississippi and Louisiana. We met volunteers and staff members providing services through Catholic Charities and other humanitarian aid organizations. Most importantly, we talked with some of the people affected by the storm.
Was I ready for our visit to the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans? I’ve learned this week that I don’t know what would prepare a person for what we’ve seen. It was a humbling experience to ride in a small bus with residents – former residents – who were seeing their neighborhood – and looking for their former homes – for the first, and probably last, time since they were evacuated. Katrina’s devastation was complete. Although we saw many homes built of brick that were still standing, even those are uninhabitable because they sat is 6 to 8 feet of water for several days. Most of the Lower Ninth Ward is pile after pile of rubble, homes leaning into one another – and homes that are completely gone – even the rubble washed away. The ground is dry and hard, cracked, looking like brown alligator skin dried in the sun. We weren’t allowed off the bus, but the driver stopped several times so the displaced residents could see what, if anything, was left of their homes. At one point, it took some of the now-former residents several minutes to even recognize their street, let alone the remnants of their homes.
In all my life, I’ve never seen devastation like I’ve experienced this week along the Mississippi Gulf Coast and New Orleans. No picture or video I’ve seen or taken can begin to capture the experience of witnessing first-hand the physical destruction brought by Hurricane Katrina. We remarked time after time that in many places it was like standing in the midst of Hiroshima, without the radiation. Other areas may not have looked as bad, but were impacted nevertheless.
What must it be like for the people whose homes and work have been wiped out? Hundreds of thousands of people are attempting to cope with loss on an unimaginable scale. Thousands of people are serving them, offering what aid they can.
We can’t see, though, what’s happening inside the people affected by this tragedy. Some are in the midst of grieving, others are still in a state of shock. Most people are trying to cope as best they can with their new way of life. The people being served, and their servants, need our prayers and our generosity. And they need us to remember them, especially during the holidays, and in the months and years to come.
The important stories are the people’s, and those are the stories we’ll be telling in future publications and programs. First, though, we need to acknowledge that seeing the physical destruction has made an everlasting imprint on us. We hope to do justice to the people whose lives have been so profoundly affected.
There’s great strength and love being shown in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, and I pray this continues. My heart is here and I’m sure I’ll never forget the blessings of experiencing this time and place so affected by Katrina.
Jim Coyle
P.S. On the way home tonight, we flew over a residential neighborhood near the airport in Chicago that was intact – no fallen homes, no debris, no blue tarps covering broken roofs. It honestly looked unusual to me.
We were in the Lower Ninth Ward on the last day of our week in Mississippi and south Louisiana to witness first-hand the destruction brought by Hurricane Katrina. A small group of Catholic media professionals traveled from New York, Indiana and Ohio to the Mississippi Gulf coast and New Orleans to meet people affected by the storm and get a personal sense of life following Katrina. Each of us felt the need to have a better sense of life in these areas because it was clear to us that critical needs for support will continue for months, and as we found, years to come.
Like people around the world, we’d seen, heard and read news reports of Katrina’s destruction. But nothing prepared us for the scope of devastation we encountered. Our week was a physical and emotional roller coaster, one that I doubt any of us will ever forget, a week that will help us better tell the stories of people and their needs. A week when we witnessed the strength – and the fragility – of the human spirit. A week when we saw God at work in people’s lives through His Church and His people.
Our week began on Monday, October 31, nine weeks after Hurricane Katrina struck Louisiana and Mississippi. Half an hour after picking up the last member of our group at the Gulfport, MS, airport, we were standing in the midst of a neighborhood that was no more. Every home had been reduced to rubble – piles of wood, shingles, automobiles that had been totally destroyed by a storm surge almost 30 feet high in some areas – as high as a 3-story house. And this scene was repeated over and over as our host took us to different areas of the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Pass Christian, Waveland, Long Beach, Point Cadet, and many, many other areas devastated by Katrina.
There are many areas where structures can be repaired. Water and wind damage wasn’t as strong as in other areas. And there are many homes that received relatively little damage – and from these homes much help and service is being provided.
One of the many things we noticed was the large number of businesses that were closed because of storm damage or the lack of workers who had to leave because their homes were destroyed – or both.
We saw people before and after Mass who asked one another “How are you?” – and really meant it. And people lingered after Mass because it was one the few times many people saw one another since the storm. The parish was a place of community as never before.
Our week included times talking with Church leaders and parish members in Mississippi and Louisiana. We met volunteers and staff members providing services through Catholic Charities and other humanitarian aid organizations. Most importantly, we talked with some of the people affected by the storm.
Was I ready for our visit to the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans? I’ve learned this week that I don’t know what would prepare a person for what we’ve seen. It was a humbling experience to ride in a small bus with residents – former residents – who were seeing their neighborhood – and looking for their former homes – for the first, and probably last, time since they were evacuated. Katrina’s devastation was complete. Although we saw many homes built of brick that were still standing, even those are uninhabitable because they sat is 6 to 8 feet of water for several days. Most of the Lower Ninth Ward is pile after pile of rubble, homes leaning into one another – and homes that are completely gone – even the rubble washed away. The ground is dry and hard, cracked, looking like brown alligator skin dried in the sun. We weren’t allowed off the bus, but the driver stopped several times so the displaced residents could see what, if anything, was left of their homes. At one point, it took some of the now-former residents several minutes to even recognize their street, let alone the remnants of their homes.
In all my life, I’ve never seen devastation like I’ve experienced this week along the Mississippi Gulf Coast and New Orleans. No picture or video I’ve seen or taken can begin to capture the experience of witnessing first-hand the physical destruction brought by Hurricane Katrina. We remarked time after time that in many places it was like standing in the midst of Hiroshima, without the radiation. Other areas may not have looked as bad, but were impacted nevertheless.
What must it be like for the people whose homes and work have been wiped out? Hundreds of thousands of people are attempting to cope with loss on an unimaginable scale. Thousands of people are serving them, offering what aid they can.
We can’t see, though, what’s happening inside the people affected by this tragedy. Some are in the midst of grieving, others are still in a state of shock. Most people are trying to cope as best they can with their new way of life. The people being served, and their servants, need our prayers and our generosity. And they need us to remember them, especially during the holidays, and in the months and years to come.
The important stories are the people’s, and those are the stories we’ll be telling in future publications and programs. First, though, we need to acknowledge that seeing the physical destruction has made an everlasting imprint on us. We hope to do justice to the people whose lives have been so profoundly affected.
There’s great strength and love being shown in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, and I pray this continues. My heart is here and I’m sure I’ll never forget the blessings of experiencing this time and place so affected by Katrina.
Jim Coyle
P.S. On the way home tonight, we flew over a residential neighborhood near the airport in Chicago that was intact – no fallen homes, no debris, no blue tarps covering broken roofs. It honestly looked unusual to me.
Thanks to Our Wonderful Hosts
All of us on this week's Catholic Media Tour to Mississippi and Louisiana truly appreciated the generosity of Shirley and Dick Henderson in Biloxi, MS, who opened their home and their lives to us throughout the tour. Shirley is editor of The Gulf Pine Catholic, the newspaper of the Diocese of Biloxi. Thank you both for your hospitality to us and for all your work for and ministry to the people of God in Mississippi.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Day 3: Louisiana - Notes from Jim Coyle
Today we traveled to Louisiana and met with Archbishop Hughes of New Orleans and several other people from the Archdiocese of New Orleans – now working, as Archbishop Hughes out it, as an “Administration in Exile” in Baton Rouge. While his temporary office is in Baton Rouge, Archbishop Hughes spends about half of each week in New Orleans.
A common theme we heard was the belief that the Church in New Orleans will be a stronger diocese even though it will be smaller because many people are expected to decide not to return to New Orleans – or not be able to return. While many of the Catholic Churches, parishes and schools in some areas of the Archdiocese are still closed, there are many in other areas that have opened.
For several weeks, the Archdiocese has been trying to find out where it’s members are so that pastors can reach out to them – and so the Church can get some idea about how many people are planning to return. It’s a time of real uncertainty at so many levels. For example, leaders of religious communities are asking themselves “How are we going to realign our ministry in an archdiocese that will have fewer Catholics, fewer churches – and where will those churches be?” Questions like these are being asked throughout the offices and among the people of New Orleans.
Tomorrow we’ll have our first visit to New Orleans. I wonder how ready we are.
- Jim Coyle
A common theme we heard was the belief that the Church in New Orleans will be a stronger diocese even though it will be smaller because many people are expected to decide not to return to New Orleans – or not be able to return. While many of the Catholic Churches, parishes and schools in some areas of the Archdiocese are still closed, there are many in other areas that have opened.
For several weeks, the Archdiocese has been trying to find out where it’s members are so that pastors can reach out to them – and so the Church can get some idea about how many people are planning to return. It’s a time of real uncertainty at so many levels. For example, leaders of religious communities are asking themselves “How are we going to realign our ministry in an archdiocese that will have fewer Catholics, fewer churches – and where will those churches be?” Questions like these are being asked throughout the offices and among the people of New Orleans.
Tomorrow we’ll have our first visit to New Orleans. I wonder how ready we are.
- Jim Coyle
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Day 2: Mississippi - Notes from Greg
Our second day of tour was very similar to the first with words like incredible, unbelievable and inconceivable dominating all of our talks.
My morning began by reading the Gulfport paper and this little snippet that I found there stuck with me all day.
“Poor child”
One little boy in D’Iberville School was asked what he would
like? He said a pillow to put his head on and a blanket to cover with. Think about it!
Later at a Mass offered by the bishop in a Baptist Church for All Saints Day, the bishop asked the children what they had gotten as a result of Katrina the answers included
- School supplies in a bag that were sent to us
- A new house
- A new dog
- Didn't lose my house
- The Lord has taken care of me
Warm, fuzzy feelings that soon leave as we begin again going from church to church assessing the damages. The adjectives again seem to fail to describe the devastation the loss … or the faith, hope and love that has brought the people together in faith communities.
Later in the day we heard about Carl “the printer” who lost his home near St. Paul’s Church in Pass Christian. Carl asked the pastor of he could stay in the devastated school. The pastor said yes, even though Carl was not a regular at the church. The pastor asked Carl if he in return would gather any artifacts he might see. Later Carl called to say he was going to stay with someone else, but that he “had found Jesus.”
The pastor was most excited … but Carl cooled that excitement explaining he really had found a statue of Jesus.
Every day is a story and each person has their own story.
- Deacon Greg LaFreniere, Assistant Editor, The Long Island Catholic
Getting the Real Picture
As we drove through devastated areas and walked among the rubble of what had been homes and neighborhoods, we were reminded of the significant difference between seeing pictures and news footage of a disaster and the experience of actually being at the scene.
Joyce commented on the stairs that went to nowhere. Some of the steps led to stately homes along the Bay, other steps to simpler homes.
- Photos and Post by Jim Coyle
Joyce commented on the stairs that went to nowhere. Some of the steps led to stately homes along the Bay, other steps to simpler homes.
- Photos and Post by Jim Coyle
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