SAINTS

The Saints
On the last Sunday of October, at the end of liturgy everyone started singing, When the Saints Go Marching In. For about a second and a half I thought it had to do with a fast approaching holy day, then I realized that the parishioners could not possibly be that excited about All Saints Day!

This city truly loves their football team.

Last week, I received a phone call from one of the Marianites while I was at work. She invited me to go with her and another sister to a Saints game. I did tell her that if anyone is really really into it, that she could give that person the ticket instead, because although I think it would be fun, and I would enjoy it, I am not a big fan of the game and recognize that others are likely to want it a lot more than I do. She said someone else could go another time, and I that should go since I have never been to a professional football game.

Apparently, every time there is a home game on a Sunday, the owner of the team has a priest come to preside over mass prior to the game in a private suite located in the Superdome. The sister who invited me, knows the owner, so we attended mass, where we were also given passes which allowed us to go onto the field just before the game started, while many of the players were warming up. The whole experience seemed somewhat surreal. It was really exciting to be there. The marching band which played before the game and at half time was also very impressive. Caught up in the excitement of the game, I enthusiastically cheered for the Saints (although not quite as enthusiastically as some others.) They lost, but I had a great time anyway. The Sister who had invited me, said it was embarrassing to bring a visitor to a game when they did so poorly. I could not possibly have had more fun even if they had won.
(This is a not so great picture is of the very impressive marching band.)


Saint Jude's
This past week I spent a lot of time at St. Jude's. St. Jude Community Center, which is across from the parish church we typically attend, became a shelter after Katrina because there was such a need for emergency shelter. The second floor is home to about 17 women at any given time; I began doing some case management/counseling with some of the residents this week. The first floor is a large multipurpose room, which now serve as a "freeze night" shelter, which means when the temperature is predicted to drop below 38 degrees people who reside on the street can come in at night and stay until morning. There are a few other shelters in the city which will also open extra space on those cold nights, however most of them do not have sufficient staff to be able to accommodate the extra people. Everyone in my department at Unity, was asked to stay at one such shelter so that they could open on freeze nights. On Monday and Tuesday, it got cold (especially for New Orleans.) A coworker and I stayed at St. Jude along with (13 on Monday, 20 on Tuesday) people experiencing homelessness. On Thanksgiving day, I was back at St. Jude, this time at noon, to assist with serving a meal.

Being at St. Jude has given me an opportunity to hear people's stories, to sit with them, to learn from them, and has left me feeling enriched. Early one morning after a freeze night, I said Good morning to an older gentlemen who has been homeless for many years; he smiled a big bright smile even though he has fewer than half of his teeth, and said to me, "aren't we are so blessed to be alive for another day!"

Thanksgiving day
After serving the meal at St. Jude, I went with two other sisters to the home of a Baptist Minister who lives in our neighborhood, for another Thanksgiving meal. He had met some of the sisters at a Katrina Memorial and told his grown children about them and they suggested that he invite the sisters to his house for Thanksgiving. He is the pastor of a small racial and ethically diverse congregation. He has several children and many grandchildren all those we met were kind and hospitable. It was truly a delightful experience.

When I arrived back at the convent I made phone calls until it was too late to call people. If you are among the community members, close family and good friends and I did not get a chance to speak with you, know that you were in my thoughts and prayers anyway. I enjoyed hearing from so many of you. I missed being with family and/or my community, but had a strong feeling that I am where I need to be at this moment, which has eased my mild homesickness.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Dinners
Already I have have participated in three Thanksgiving feasts. The first was on Wednesday evening when the sisters I am living with had our local community dinner. The following night was a neighborhood potluck held on the property here for people who live in the Bywater neighborhood. Yesterday, at work we had a Thanksgiving potluck as well. The carrots and parsnips I made (Nana Nealon style) were at least as unusual a dish to most New Orleaneans as Oyster Dressing was to me.

At the neighborhood feast, people were asked to call to mind where they were last Thanksgiving; virtually everyone was displaced at that time. We were reminded of how the first thanksgiving was celebrated after a very hard and trying year, and was a celebration of unity among peoples. People of the neighborhood gathered in circumstances and with a spirit not unlike those who gathered for the first Thanksgiving. Those who have lost much seem so appreciative of what they have. I am thankful to be able to learn gratitude from them.

Categories of homelessness in New Orleans
Several categories of homelessness were mentioned at a meeting and press conference I attended with others from my office this week. There are the chronically homeless, many of whom were living on the streets of New Orleans prior to Katrina and are still homeless. There are the migrant workers; many people have come into the city in search of work; many have found work doing construction, they are actively rebuilding the city, but due to the reality that rent has at least doubled (quadrupled in some neighborhoods) they are not able to find affordable housing so sleep on the streets, in shelters, or make their home in the very many severely damaged abandoned houses. The migrant workers included both immigrants from Mexico and other countries as well as many citizens from other states. There are New Orleans natives who were not homeless before the storm but have been unable to afford the rising rent, or fix up the house that they own and therefore find themselves homeless. Some people are staying with relatives and friends; they are sometimes more than "doubled up"; that is now there may be three or four families in a house, or people are "doubled up" in FEMA trailers (which by most people's standards would be too small for one family); of course I must mention that these people are not truly homeless if you use HUD's definition of homeless, regardless of how tight the space! There are also those who are displaced, still living in other cities, perhaps with family and friends, who really want to come home to New Orleans but have no home to come to. There is a fear that they problem will worsen especially in February when FEMA rental assistance is supposed to cease for most.

This coming week I am also going to start doing some counseling/case management at a shelter located in the community center of the parish church. This shelter, which houses 17 single women was opened following Katrina because there was great need for it. The largest pre-Katrina shelters in the city have yet to reopen. I am looking forward to this.

Opelousas
Today the Marianite Sisters celebrated 150 years of service in education and health care in the town of Opelousas, Louisiana. 150 years ago the sisters took a long boat ride up the bayou from New Orleans to start ministering in that town. High school students dressed in the habit that the sisters use to wear and reenacted the arrival. It was followed by a prayer service and lunch. A couple of the older sisters said to me, "now you know what we used to look like!" It was a very pleasant day indeed. I was grateful to hear their stories. It is amazing what courageous work women religious did long ago in such difficult circumstances without the conveniences we now take for granted.

Happy Thanksgiving!
Since I have arrived in New Orleans, I have been filled with a sense of gratitude for the people I have met, the experiences I am having. In that way I feel the spirit of the holiday, aware that I really have so much to be thankful for. In other real though less important ways, it does not really feel like Thanksgiving, because the green leaves still cling to the trees and the mosquitoes are still biting. Whether the weather feels like thanksgiving, giving thanks is always in season.

I thank God for all of my family, community and friends. Happy Thanksgiving.

Love, Kathleen

Thank you!

Those who stayed.

This past week, spontaneously, on a few occasions people at work shared their Katrina stories with me. Where they were, where they went, what they did, what was lost, when they returned, what they found, learned and what they discovered about themselves and about life. It is a privilege to hear such stories.

I am especially impressed with the people who stayed because of work obligations or with the intentions of helping others. There were two people whose stories of staying to help others that touched me very deeply. These stories made me think of the gospel stories of the women who stayed during the crucifixion. While reflecting upon these stories, I wrote the following:
First hand, I hear their stories,
those who stayed,
who helped while feeling utterly helpless,
who watched and prayed,
who felt the pain as death surrounded them
and utter darkness came.
Whose hearts tightly clenched a tiny crumb of hope,
when all else had been devoured, destroyed.
Wading, neck deep in rising pain, while the debris of fallen structures floated and sank
in the pits of empty stomaches.
They stayed the unpaved course that had no maps, no signs nor signal lights.
They stayed through the crucifixion,
and returned in early dawn to the empty tomb,
awaiting, anticipating, participating in resserection.

Last night, I had the opportunity to do outreach with a few coworkers, including a man who does outreach to the homeless for the police department. We were able to get several men into shelter who may have faced arrest later that night had they stayed near a particular building in the city which has increased security. The men all had different stories. Some had come here from other parts of the country seeking work, and are doing construction during the day. All were pleasant, cooperative and grateful. I am finding that I really enjoy doing outreach to the homeless. The people I have met on the streets of New Orleans all have been interesting people, with stories, gifts, talents, hopes and dreams.

On days when work is hard (which has very little to do with the people we serve and a lot to do with frustrating bureaucracies and a lack of resources), I am so grateful that I really enjoy the sisters that I am staying with. The emails, letters and phone calls, and prayers from everyone at home are also wonderful gifts. I feel so supported and am very appreciative. The other day I was thinking about the fact that I have at least three places now, that I commonly refer to as home, all of which are much more than adequately inhabitable, which I take for granted less and less as I encounter more and more people without even one halfway inhabitable place to call home.

Ministry, Mirlitons & Muffalatas

Ministry
This week, I was assigned a couple of clients in need of housing who I will provide case management for and hopefully help to find housing. There certainly seems to be a lack of resources at least that are easily accessible for people. I have felt at least a little productive when doing presentations at our morning staff meetings about outreach to the homeless on the street based on a curriculum I found on line and on basic social work skills. I also, went out on the van a few times this week to do outreach to those on the street.

Being here, has given me an appreciation for the shelter system and services we have in Philadelphia. Several people told me that they heard that Philadelphia is one of the model cities in serving chronically homeless. At first, I responded with skepticism ready to complain about the system, aware that there are still many homeless people in Philadelphia, the lack of affordable housing, and the complaints I heard from clients in emergency shelters. Now, after working in New Orleans for two weeks, and especially the other day when I could not locate a shelter that had space for a single woman, I wish that the City of New Orleans would have an office like Philadelphia's Office of Emergency Shelter and Services where I could always refer people to for emergency shelter knowing it would be provided that very night if they needed it. It is interesting how being away gives me a different perspective and increases my appreciation for services I once took for granted, and assumed every city had.


Mirlitons & Muffalatas
Whether while riding in the van in between clients, at a monthly staff meeting held at the programs' main office, or with the sisters, conversations in New Orleans frequently seems to be about food. When, I shared this perception with the sisters; I was told that food is an important part of New Orleans culture and that people here really do talk about food, a lot.

One day I noticed something sitting in a dish on the kitchen counter.
I asked, "is that at pear?"
"No; it is not a pear," replied the sister in charge of cooking, with a smile.
"Is it some type of avocado?" My next best guess!
"It's not an avocado. It's a mirliton." The first "i" is pronounced more like a short "e" and the "r" is silent. {There is a surprising yet striking commonality between the languages spoken in New Orleans and Rhode Island having to do with ignoring the letter r, especially in the middle or end of a word.} Of all of the novel foods I have tired in New Orleans, I think the mirliton is my favorite; and probably the healthiest as well. I'm not sure if it is considered a fruit or a vegetable, but I was told that it grows on a vine.
Today I attended the 2006 Mirliton Festival which is held only a few blocks from here. The festival really gave me a taste of the culture of the neighborhood, which consists of many talented artists and musicians. There was no festival last year; Katrina canceled it. Just as the storm has an impact on the neighborhood some of the crafts being sold and the bands playing were obviously influenced by the hurricane. It was wonderful to see so many people really enjoying themselves and having such a great time.

The other day, one of the sisters suggested I try a muffalata insisting they were very good. She tried to entice me, by telling me that it is a sandwich which has everything on it except the kitchen sink; although I did not find that description particularly appetizing I took one graciously. It was on a round roll but contained ingredients similar to a Rhode Island grinder or a Philadelphia hoagie as well as several green olives. It was edible, but not really worth writing home about; although I suppose that is what I am doing right now.

I attribute the reality that much of this blog entry is food focused to the influence of the culture of New Orleans.

I think I may have fixed the comment options; a few people mentioned that they tired to post a comment that never went through. Please let me know if it continues. Thanks.

Take care. Greetings from the sisters here to the sisters there.