Friends in Low Places

Yes, I am home, but this is one of several "essays" I had thought of, but did not have the time to write, when I was in Mississippi.

Wednesday July 5^th, 2006

You have a lot of time to think when you are on an interior or mold team. Oh sure, you are working—working hard in hot and dirty conditions, but as a general rule it is not exactly the most mentally challenging of job ever devised. The result is that after your first house, the radio becomes your constant companion.

Today’s experience was no different. I was on a mold crew that wiped down and then “Kiltzed” a home in East Biloxi that had been flooded to about 8 feet.

This house was different from most in that the owner had already done quite a bit of work on it and the electric was working. In fact, he had a radio already hanging in the corner when we arrived. I do not know if the radio went through the storm or not, but it might have. To say it was not a Bose would be an understatement; reception, even of “close by” stations, was hit and miss.

The reception difficulties led to frequent station changes as with apparent randomness the station, which only seconds before was coming in perfectly, faded into static. The two main stations we listened to today were classic rock 105.9 WXRG and country WZKX 107.9 Kicker 108.

It was just before lunch that one of these frequent station changes landed us on Garth Brook’s Friends in Low Places.

I should confess that I love to analyze the timing of songs. For instance I complain when “It’s Five O’clock Somewhere” gets played at any time other than the top of the hour. Forget about ever playing “Here Comes the Rain Again” if the sun is shining and "It's Been a Long Day?" if it is before 8PM. But "Friends in Low Places" seemed particularly apt right now.

For starters the elevation of much of East Biloxi is below 20 feet above sea level. Indeed, sections are below 12 feet. Economically, East Biloxi is the poorest section of a poor city in a poor state. And since Katrina, mental depression has risen. So by almost any criteria, this is a “low place.”

That volunteers have friends in the area is abundantly clear. The residents here and throughout the region have been more than generous with their praise, thanks, and even belongings. Oh sure, as time has gone on some of the public outpouring of thanks has changed form (I was hugged by total strangers in the airport on the first trip), but the thankfulness has not diminished. This is shown in many ways. From the always pleasant horn beeping of passerbys if you are working anywhere near the road, to gifts, to simple “thank-yous,” to large billboards saying thanks, the whole region wants the volunteers to know that their efforts are appreciated.

As Garth and many of the demolders sang on, I thought back some of the friends I had made in the region and especially to one I had recently met when I stopped to buy watermelons on the side of the road. The price was 3 for $10. As we talked, the purveyor found out that I was a volunteer and he began handing me more and more watermelon as he thanked me profusely. By the time he was done, there were 8 watermelons in by vehicle for the same $10 we had originally agreed upon. Yeah, the volunteers have friends here.

Several station changes ago, this point was driven home even further. The owner of the home had taken orders for lunch. He was buying. Even after we told him he did not have to do so, he insisted. It was his way of saying “Thank-you.”

As the song ended, he pulled up, smiling and carrying three bags of food.

Oh, and the song that came on next? Jamie O’Neal’s She’s Somebody’s Hero, which is also perfect for the conditions but that had to wait. It was lunch time.