Despair brings heartache, and then hope
Stephanie Doyle, CRM Director of Marketing & Communications

I had seen the pictures, I had read the stories, I knew what to expect. A former newspaper reporter who has covered brush fires, floods and tornados, I was ready.

But as I quickly learned, nothing can prepare someone for the destruction left behind by a storm as catastrophic as Hurricane Katrina — the stench, the heartbreak in people’s voices, the anguish around every corner. When I viewed the destruction from afar, or sort of squinted just enough to blur out the
details, I could remain focused on the tasks at hand — haul another tree limb away, scoop up a another mound of debris.

But when I allowed myself to see the details — the evidence of people’s lives crushed by water — the tasks grew tougher. I remember seeing an Italian Travelers cassette tape and wondering if its owner had taken a dream trip, or would still be able to. I wondered how long it would be before parents could replace “Goodnight Moon” and other destroyed books. I saw one woman picking through soggy piles of memories that had been dumped by the curb. Using two fingers she tossed aside mildewed items until she found a little plastic toy, wound it up, heard music, and looked as if she’d found gold. When all is lost, one memory — a salvaged toy, a scrapbook, an heirloom — becomes so much in the blink of an eye.

I thumbed through a moldy photo album, its pages stuck together, and suddenly a house layered with mud and sewage became alive. A glowing family stood by a Christmas tree. But now in that spot was a baby grand piano, resting upside-down, flipped over by the force of rising flood waters. Would this family be able to rehab their once beautiful home? Or had they already begun making new memories elsewhere? We didn’t know, probably never would know, and continued working. And we knew one thing: When they returned, our debris and tree cleanup would allow them to pull right up the long and steep driveway to their front door, a fruitless task just hours earlier.

Even more powerful than the intense aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was the overwhelming sense of hope stemming from the despair. There was the elderly woman who broke down sobbing when she learned that several felled 30-plus-foot trees no longer threatened her home.

And there was the man who fought back tears when I handed him a large bag of dog food. He, like many, was eager to explain his emotion. He had kept his two labs alive by setting them on a plastic-wrapped mattress and holding them there, even as the flood waters rose and his house broke in half. He survived, with his two dogs and the outfit he was wearing. I noticed him eying a box of dog treats and while he was speaking with another volunteer, I slipped the box on top of the dog food. Before leaving, he said, “Ma’am, I don’t want to take too much but do you think I could have a few dog treats?” When I told him the whole box was his, he again choked back tears.

One of my favorite stories of hope centered on the pastor of a small church near the beach in Bay St. Louis. He was grieving the loss of his organist, who had perished when his home in Pass Christian collapsed. Downed trees surrounded the church and thick mud blanketed the inside of the fellowship hall and education areas. Volunteers from CRM, First Presbyterian Church of Maitland, and others from around the country teamed up to work a little magic — and shocked Pastor Ted, who learned he could hold a service that Sunday, weeks earlier than he ever expected. As if that wasn’t enough, the removed trees, which had been cut into dozens of logs and carted away, meant the grassy parking lot could become another much needed “tent city” for displaced residents.

CRM played a significant role in bringing hope to these people’s lives. Tools purchased with donated money helped cut down 117 trees, saved residents more than $165,000, and brought smiles to countless faces. Donated food meant we ate well after working 10-hour days in scorching heat. Donated books brought sparkles to children’s eyes. And the encouragement from co-workers helped give me the strength to do physical work I never dreamed I could do. We made a difference, and I can’t thank CRM employees enough for all you did to help. In terms of our impact, we were a drop in the bucket. But thanks to CRM, we were a mighty big drop.