By Nathan Stern
 
For those of you who don't know me, I'm the guy who works in the Center for Civic Engagement and who organized this trip. I am in New Orleans for my third time post-Katrina, and every time I am amazed by its uniqueness. I have lived in Los Angeles, Boston, New York, and DC, and I have traveled pretty extensively (very extensively). There is no place like New Orleans. Of course there are the tangible things that everyone knows about like po'boys, brass bands, crawfish, oysters and of course the inimitable art form that is live jazz music. But those don't even begin to scratch the surface of the character of the people who live here.
 
Every New Orleanian we work with feels such a strong tie to the land and to the community that it seems no mix of hurricanes, floods, corrupt government agencies or greedy land developers could pry them from their homes. Yesterday we embarked on a rather unique project in which we demolded eight houses on one block. There were 120 volunteers at this one worksite trying to share the finite resources of Hands On New Orleans to help bring back a whole neighborhood in one fell swoop. Just the sheer numbers made things a little hectic at times, and some people felt like they were not being used to the fullest of their capabilities at every moment. That is unless you spent anytime talking to one of the many homeowners who were at the worksite with us, sometimes even donning a respirator and a Tyvek suit to scrub mold right along side us.
 
Each person was so thankful, they had trouble expressing it. They lived in a historic middle class neighborhood and worked their whole lives to finally enjoy their retirement in the city they love. Then the levees broke and all of a sudden their house was underwater for three weeks. Once the flooding subsided things only got worse. They haven't gotten any insurance money or assistance from the government. Some can't even get FEMA trailers. All of their possessions were in their houses. These are older folks who just don't have the physical resources nor the expertise to gut and demold their houses alone. Even if we didn't get the mold out of every house we wanted to, we gave them something much more special than a mold-free house: hope. Hope that their community can be rebuilt. Hope in the willingness of today's youth to respond when they see injustice. Hope that once again they will be able to resume their lives before Katrina was anyone other than their Russian friend in grade school. Talking to the homeowners, each one used the same sentiments to describe how this volunteer effort made them feel: "refreshing" and "20 years younger."

Now I know you are all wondering why this rather serious update has the title I gave it. Well a certain person who we shall call Lawrence S. for the sake of anonymity, may or may not have locked the key to one of our vans inside the van. The van remained out of commission for about 24 hours until we got a neighborhood kid to jimmy the lock for us. This Lawrence S. is trying to spread the vicious rumor that I lost the key. Even if you see this being said in movies or on tv, I am the responsible trip leader who takes the key out of the van first, then locks it, not the other way around.