When I passive-aggressively criticize someone, I say, “S/He’s really [positive adjective], but [insert negative comment here].” When Southerners passive-aggressively criticize someone, they say, “Bless his/her heart, s/he’s [insert negative comment here].”

Early, early, early yesterday morning, the National Guard gave us a lecture on the hurricane’s effects in New Orleans, followed by a tour through the city and a few of the surrounding perishing parishes. Yes, yes, how nice of the National Guard to take us on a tour. No, of course they did not have an agenda that they hoped to co-opt us into buying —

As part of their niceties, they gave us a CD of the slides presented during the pre-tour lecture. A photo of a National Guardswoman holding a crying black child graces the cover of each disc. There actually is some very informative explanations of How Hurricanes Work and How the Levees Were Breached, all of which the media had done a fairly poor job of explaining. On the discs is a plethora of National Guard-As-Hero photos; included elsewhere in our publicity packet are copies of National Guard-issued press releases: Civilian skills prove worth to communities. Operation Teddy Bear distribute smiles. Airman use time off helping residents.

On the actual tour, we saw areas that, one and a half years after Katrina, still are completely devastated and barren. The Major General hosting the tour – quite a character, and I mean that in a positive way – also took us to Jackson Barracks, the National Guard’s base, and showed us how high the waters reached in their own backyards. Throughout the tour, the Major General ardently defended the National Guard’s role during the post-Katrina chaos. Going door to door to discover the living, the dead, the dismembered. Cleaning the toxic sludge the floods left behind. Evacuating the disabled and the elderly. Ordering the disorder and putting to rest the bedlam.

It was made clear that the National Guard did some incredibly difficult work in the days immediately after the hurricane and in the months that followed. That was what we were supposed to hear. I guess now we’re supposed to go back to USC and tell everyone that National Guard Did Their Job, Really and National Guard Received Undeserved Flack for Not Doing Enough Post-Katrina and National Guard Barricades Self from the Poor and the Black at Superdome, but Let’s Look at the Positive Side.

I’m self-conscious about being too critical, because I know the proper thing to do here is to thank the National Guard profusely for being gracious enough as to take the time to give us a guided tour. But, while I am grateful for the opportunity, I am also not about to be used to perpetuate an agenda. The National Guard clearly is on a public relations mission to counteract the slew of negative publicity they received for, among other reasons, the debacles at the Superdome and Convention Center. While this makes sense for them, it doesn’t make sense for us to take it at face value, assume they have no underlying motives, and blindly parrot their message. There is more to this story than what they designed to tell us. There is more to being an advocate than passively accepting what others tell you. There is more, and we of all people ought to pick up on it and deconstruct the truths and half-truths.

Bless their hearts, the National Guard.

tien.

“Hard Money Lending”

It’s hard to do the right thing when you’re down and out. And lots of people don’t. Adversity can really breed opportunism. Last year here in Biloxi a leathery old man told me a story. With cold anger, he recounted how another man had come around right after the Storm selling loaves of bread for $20. $20 for a fucking loaf of bread. When the old man pronounced the amount, his sun-worn face wrinkled up in disgust and he spat a lugie on the ground, as if to expel from himself the bile of such injustice. He said he would never forget that $20 loaf of bread because it was a mark of man’s willingness to take advantage of another when the chips were down.

It’s easy to give in to cynicism when you hear such stories. People are selfish. As my dad would say, some people’d steal the quarters off a dead man’s eyes. That leathery old man knew this, and I knew it in the same visceral way after listening to him.

But some people tell different stories.

I met another man yesterday. A big ole’ white man- probably 6 foot 5 and 250 lbs. He sat heavily in the waiting room of the clinic where I was doing surveys on Medicaid coverage. I approached him and we began talking. We went through the survey. We kept talking, and after a while I just listened to him talk about his life. During the conversation, he would shuffle his feet about ponderously. I saw that his shoes were untied and seemed to be several sizes too small. Then, through a long tear in his pants leg, I noticed that his ankles were swollen to nearly twice the size of normal. The exposed skin had a spongy, wet sheen, as if it would burst forth with feverish liquid if I stuck a needle in it.

He told me that he had been a real estate broker but had lost everything – his savings, his business, his insurance – through the Storm. Shortly after, his teenage son had grown ill. With no way to pay for his son’s medical care, he had to get his son signed up for Medicaid. His son had gotten the treatment he needed. Now, though, the man had his own health problems. Ever since the Storm, he told me, his feet had hurt him, all the time, until one day they had suddenly stopped hurting or feeling anything at all.

Soon after, his son noticed that his feet looked swollen. Concerned, he took off his father’s socks to look more more closely.  He discovered rotting abscesses in each foot, one of which went almost to the bone.

The man told me that diabetes was to blame and that he hadn’t been able to get his insulin regularly since the Storm. He locked eyes with me when he told me this, plaintive, and then looked away.

So here the man was. No money. No house. No business. No health insurance. A teenage son to take care of. Holes in his feet, untreated diabetes, and the heaviness of frustration around him, with despair hovering nearby, covetously awaiting him.

With the temporary trust of an unguarded conversation linking us together, I asked him if he planned to get back into real estate. He told me that the real estate market in Gulfport was finished for good, but that he had a friend in New Orleans who had offered him work. I asked him why he didn’t go. He sighed and looked inward for a moment, as if taking stock of whether what he was about to say still rang true.

He sighed. “I can’t.”

“You see,” he continued, “my friend’s into what we in the industry call ‘hard money lending.’ It’s where you make someone a big short-term loan knowing that they probably can’t pay it back. When they can’t pay it back, you get their house, and then you can sell the house for more than the loan. People get rich doing this, and they do it all the goddamn time.” He shook his head back and forth slowly as he said this.

Although I didn’t fully understanding his explanation, his disapproval of the practice was obvious. I remarked that what his friend did seemed a bit questionable.

“Questionable?” he retorted. “It’s downright unethical.” He grimaced and gestured about. “Why would I take advantage of people and put them where I’m at right now just to get ahead? It’s not right. I haven’t called that friend back and I don’t intend to.”

He fell silent and we sat still, reflecting on what he had said.

-GLP

One car accident, 8 hours, and forty thousand phone calls later, I am finally back in my hotel room in Biloxi. I have been overwhelmed with the kindness of others today and I can honestly say that the people I have met in MS, whether they’re from here or just working here now, are some of the nicest people I have ever met. I have never been in a car accident before and I was visibly shaken by the collision this morning. The people on our project from Manatt and MCJ went out of their way to make sure we were ok throughout the insurance saga that unfolded as we tried to get a tow truck and get a new rental car from New Orleans to Gulfport, MS. Not only that, but passersby stopped to make sure we were ok and were genuinely concerned about our well-being. I definitely could not have made it through the day without my MS colleagues, Dean Mead, and the fabulous fried green tomatoes I had in the Lookout 49 café in Gulfport. Here’s to a better day tomorrow.

3.14.07

Dear mom,

Today was a very long day.  We met at MCJ with our Medicaid group this morning at 8:30 to discuss the plans for the day and to discuss a few changes were made to the survey.  We have decided to shift the focus of our survey from collecting quantitative data based merely on the questions that we ask to gathering more qualitative data that is only facilitated by the questions that we ask.  We are anxious to hear people’s stories and engage them in a conversation rather than simply administering a series of survey questions.  Michelle and I headed out to our clinic survey site with Grace and Greg.

Our day was quite an adventure.  We never actually made it to our clinics today because we were unfortunately involved in an accident that ate up the majority of our day.  We are all a little sore, but hopefully okay other than that.  The car, on the other hand, did not make it out so great.  We ended up waiting at the Kangaroo gas station, complete with a Washaroo and dining room featuring a liver and gizzard special, until the late afternoon because a new rental car had to be delivered from New Orleans to Gulfport.

Today we learned how nice the people of Mississippi really are.  For example, Michelle and I went into the gas station to let them know that the van would be sitting there all day waiting to be towed and they were so nice to us.  They even came out later as we were sitting on the curb to let us know that they had a dining area inside that we could wait in.  A few other people drove through the gas station and upon seeing the van stopped to make sure that we were okay.  Also, the coordinators of our project were absolute angels!  They drove over to where we were and stayed with us all day until everything was settled.  The people here are just very friendly and it took a crisis for us to appreciate how encouraging it is to be in that type of environment.

We attended the group debrief at MCJ and heard about how the day went for the other groups.  It sounds like the qualitative methodology is working a lot better than the quantitative one.  I am excited to be able to get back to work again tomorrow at a clinic.  It will feel good to rejoin in the group’s efforts and have data to report on at the end of the day.

Love,

Jessica

Today, we attended a luncheon held by the Biloxi Mayors Office and Living City.  At the luncheon, members of the city council and Living City discussed the improvements that have been made since Katrina and the plans that they are in the process of implementing to rebuild the devastated Biloxi region.  The housing commission gave a detailed report on the current efforts to expand and renovate public housing; these improvements, however, are largely dependent on them receiving the funding promised to them by the state and federal government and private parties.  After the luncheon, we visited Wavefield and St. Louis, which are towns just outside of Gulfport that were also completely destroyed by Katrina.  These areas have had trouble rebuilding due to the lack of public knowledge, resources, and the schemes of insurances to not pay claims.  All that remains for miles along the coast are pilings and concrete slab foundations where houses once stood.  The response and rebuild process in these areas is truly shameful.  It is outrageous that 18 months after the storm so much of the coastline remains devastated, abandoned, and spoiled.  Families are displaced and those that do remain in the area live in cramped FEMA trailers amongst the skeletons of their former homes.

Can’t write much. . .still in the midst of writing a 30 page brief. . .would rather be doing anything else, like having dinner at the casino across the street.  Went further up the coast to Waveland today to see the spots where the hurricane hit head on.  It is way worse than here in Biloxi.  There is almost ten miles of coastline with all the houses gone.  The whole town is basically wiped away, just concrete slabs.  There are a lot os signs that say things like “state farm sucks.”

Today is my first day in Biloxi, MS. I didn’t do any legal work today but I helped a needy woman move her weather-beaten belongings into her new place. Fun stuff, but the downstairs is condemned and uninhabitable. I also ate a fried pickle and kicked a crawfish head on the floor. All in a days work. We ended the night with a delicious buffet and the 2-4-1. Out like trout.

So, Andy says I didn’t do my blog the first day but all I have to says is, “Medi-what?” It’s there! Today was a loooong day, starting at 3:45 am when we left MS to go back to New Orleans for a tour of all the devastation. I spent the rest of the day eating shrimp po boys and interviewing patients in a clinic. Good times were had by all. A bunch of the Medicaid crew went to dinner at a fabulous buffet after a great 2-4-1. Tomorrow is “so sure.” Outy 5000.

I woke up at 3:45 am to see a tour of the devastation in New Orleans. In the afternoon I worked at a clinic and interviewed approximately 6 people. The rest of the evening was spent at the beautiful 2-4-1 Beau Rivage with several of our comrades in arms. Now its 11:15 and I’m finally going to bed. Nighty night- More later moms!

xoxo

JLC