Have a HOUSA day!

January 4, 2006

During tonight’s pizza dinner I concluded that I would write about what a great day we had, and how many things we accomplished. But all days are “great” days down here. To avoid redundancy I needed a new way of saying “great day”. After a bit, the new term was readily apparent and I think anyone who has been here would agree: “It’s was a HOUSA day” (HOUSA = Hands On USA).

Definitions out of the way, we will use eaxmples to teach a HOUSA day. In fact, today may be the perfect example of a HOUSA day.

The day started early, ridiculously early for a night owl like me, at 5:55 AM when I wake to run. The run is pretty good, but not great. This is not unusual, for while I do run doubles in Biloxi, serious training does suffer from poor courses, hard work, and the first run being so early. Then there is a fast outdoor shower and then breakfast (usually instant oatmeal for me) before starting the day at about 8:00AM.

The plan for “Team Bow Wow” is to help clean base camp by sweeping up after the AM rush prior to making our way to the Humane Society to walk dogs, help clean animals, and their cages. Then after a few hours of this, we are to head back into East Biloxi to help finish up the home that we worked on yesterday (which of course is the reason I am staying the extra day).

The day at the Humane Society goes very, very well. The weather is perfect, and because we have a large group of volunteers, and adoptions are greatly outpacing stray pickups, each dog gets extra time and clean-up is quick and easy.

Just as we ready to leave, Jay, the current administrative genius who shines in the background at Handson, calls to announce that plans have changed, we are needed elsewhere. Changing plans are inherent in this environment, so we take it right in stride.

Since we have to drop off Debbie (from DC) for her departure, we decide to have lunch at the Handson Base camp. After a quick lunch, but prior to leaving, the team formerly known as Team Bow-Wow, pick up a few new jobs: using blue Duct tape, Jenna and Tony label boots for removal and others sweep up again (sweeping is a never ending job). Our new assignment: a house in Ocean Springs that needs gutting and only a small group of people, led by Ryan and Beau are there.

We pile into two cars and head out of Biloxi. The drive around the Bay since the Rt. 90 bridge is very much out of commission, is fun with much good natured ribbing whenever wrong turns are made (the wrong turns were of course due totally to poor directions and worse navigational help ;) ).

Once we get to the site, it is apparent that while short-handed, the AM group had gotten much done. Although still far from done, all the rooms are cleaned and several rooms were at least partially gutted. We jump into the fray and join with Ryan and Beau’s groups.

For the next 4 hours, we pulled, pounded, scraped, and hammered until the walls were bare. And in this whirlwind of activity we had fun and learned about the other volunteers and the family we were helping.

I am still puzzled at how work this hard can be fun, but it is. Maybe it’s seeing progress, maybe it’s the feeling of accomplishment, maybe it’s the people, maybe it is all of the above, but it is fun.

In gutting we learn that BJ is one of the most helpful people we’d ever come across (although I still doubt the sun was in his eyes later that night when shooting baskets, but nice excuse! ;) ), that San Marcos is North of San Antonio (true it is also S. of Austin, but it’s my blog ;) ), that it’s a long bus ride down from Indiana, that John has more patience than the stereotypical New Yorker (well except when in a car, by his own admission, you might not want to be around him when he’s driving!), and that Ryan and Beau really know how to gut houses.

After about 2.5 hours of gutting, one of the home owners (Uncle Andrew) brought us popsicles for a break. As we congregated in front of the house (near the ramp to the family’s FEMA trailer), the family’s two young boys come to play. They are pushing each other around on a wheeled stool. I join the fun and am soon racing around the yard pushing each of the kids on a stool. We eventually fall into a heap and I am temporarily worried they might be hurt. But no, they are still laughing for all they are worth. People here have gotten good at laughing after falling. They pick themselves up and ask for another ride around the yard.

Break time is not only an opportunity to have fun, learning also continues as we get to speak with the residents. We learn that the two boys, ages 5 and 7, are orphans and that their grandmother (who is in a wheelchair and the reason for the trailer ramp) and Uncle are raising them. We learn that Handson had helped clear the lot to make room for the FEMA trailer, that Handson had helped to build the ramp for the trailer, and that we were now gutting their house.

The family is very thankful for all of the help. We are very thankful to be able to help.

Juts before 5:00 pm we stop for the day. It will soon be getting dark and the house has no power, so the work will have to wait until tomorrow. Rather than head straight back to the HOUSA camp, a group of us drive to the East side of the 90 bridge.

Like seemingly everything on this glorious HOUSA day, the timing for the bridge trip is perfect. We have just enough time for some photos and to climb on the bridge before catching a beautiful sunset.

After driving back at base camp, I head back out for a run (this time with Bill and David) before settling in for pizza and the nightly meeting. After this phone calls home are made and volunteers talk or go and catch the Rose Bowl on TV, returning after the game we talk well into the night about the day, about what more needs to be done, about the next return trip, and about everything that friends talk about.

Long hours, hard work, constantly changing plans, great people, good deeds, and much fun, yep, it was a HOUSA day!


Note the date of this essay. It was started prior to departure, but in part due to the UT-USC Rose Bowl game, and in part because of talking for hours after the game to some new friends (a very worthwhile tradeoff!), I did not get to finish the essay until on the plane sitting on the tarmac at the Detroit Airport.