Here is the story I wrote about the New Orleans experience, which was published August 9, 2006 in the Orange County Register: MUD OUT, HOPE IN Keith Dier fingers little treasures fished out of the muck of his Chalmette, La., home nearly 11 months after Hurricane Katrina blew away normalcy. Soccer trophies, a metal cross, a set of New Orleans Saints tumblers, Beatles LPs, damaged photographs. “Thank God my wife isn’t here right now. She’d break down,” he says as volunteers from Kansas and Orange County dump wheelbarrow loads of moldy drywall, soggy furniture, ruined books and just about every Dier possession onto a heaping junk pile in front of the family’s home. Until Aug. 29, 2005, the Dier family had much in common with mine. They had lived a comfortable life on a suburban street for years. They knew their neighbors. A senior year in high school approached. They had no clue that they were about to lose their house, their neighborhood, their church and their livelihoods. I went to New Orleans for a week in late July unsure of what to expect. Along with six other men from Saddleback Church, I was to do “mudouts.” That’s when crews of 20-plus volunteers attack an inundated house and pick it clean down to frame and foundation. We joined volunteers from across the country.
Jerry Hays said they should settle in for the school year so the boys would have some stability. He built them a soccer field and took them out on all-terrain vehicles. “He was like a grandfather,” Keith says. “And he refused to take a dollar of rent.” The Diers are grateful for the kindness of the Hayses and now strangers from California and Kansas. They want to do something to pay back. “I want to clear houses on my day off. It will not be as emotional when it’s not my own house,” Keith says. “And if you folks ever get hit by an earthquake in California, you’ve got my number.” It’s not like the Diers haven’t done their own good works. Weeks before the hurricane, their priest asked Lynne, a teacher and Eucharistic minister, if she knew anyone who might take in a troubled teen. Stephen had been arrested twice, and the judge would not release him to his drug-addicted mother. The priest worried that custody would harden him and hoped a family might give him a fresh start. Keith had coached Stephen in soccer, and Lynne knew that they were the right family. She also knew it was a risk. They might be a good influence on Stephen, but he could also be a bad one for their sons. In Texas, Stephen had a successful sophomore year and got in no trouble. When the Diers returned to Louisiana, Stephen stayed in Texas with another family to finish school.
And one of the Diers’ sons will attend college in Texas on a soccer scholarship. Keith, Lynne and their other son live in a FEMA trailer in Keith’s parents’ front yard in Slidell. Keith is back to work at a Winn-Dixie supermarket. Lynne has found a new job with the school district.
Mudouts are strenuous work. Heat and humidity keep shirts soaked. Toxins and stench in moldy houses require respirators, gloves and long sleeves and pants.This is not work a couple can pick away at on weekends without a big crew. Our group gutted two full houses and part of a third in five days of work. When the job is done and the house is down to its bones, owners are able to envision rebuilding. But, maybe even more importantly, they feel the support of others as they navigate a long crisis.
“I feel like I don’t have to cry anymore,” Lynne says. “I’m tired of crying.” There are decisions to be made, to be sure. And big questions: Can they trust the levees to hold if they increase their mortgage debt on property still sitting below sea level? Is it better to walk away and start over somewhere else? Will others return? The Diers know they will stay in the New Orleans area, where they have one grandchild and another on the way. The hurricane spared few of their possessions but all family members are alive and healthy. “I used to be a type-A personality,” Keith says. “I had my plans, and I got frustrated if things didn’t go perfectly. I’ve learned that if something is not going to affect you in two weeks, then it’s not a problem.” Homeowners join relief workers for dinner and a worship service on the Friday night ending our week. The dining hall at relief headquarters is dressed up with tablecloths and plastic flowers. We eat lasagna, salad and chocolate chip cookies to the roar of industrial fans. We hear a message about priorities – God’s and ours — and sing about faith, hope and love. “You know what you all do?” Keith says as the night draws to a close. “You give people hope.” If my little offering can do that, it might not be as little as I thought.