Column: Cigar staffer sees hurricane's destruction firsthand

01/22/09 - On Sunday, Jan. 4, I awoke to the sound of my obnoxiously loud cell phone alarm. My phone read 3 a.m. and I was so tempted to press the snooze button, but I knew that I needed to be at the airport within the hour. Already, I was not looking forward to my trip. Not only was I unfamiliar with the area, but I also did not know anyone else from the University of R.I. who was going.Never having been to Louisiana before, I had no clue what to expect. Led by the URI Hillel Student Life Coordinator Lisa Friedman, nine students (myself included) traveled south to New Orleans to re-construct houses with Rebuilding Together, a national non-profit organization.

After a turbulent flight to Newark, N.J., and a long flight to New Orleans (during which I accidentally fell asleep on the man next to me,) I had finally arrived at my destination. Hungry and already shedding layers of my New England attire, I headed off to explore the New Orleans airport with two others from the URI group: Becca Kraut, a freshman and Jeff Scherr, a sophomore. We settled on Sonic, a small chain restaurant in a tiny airport terminal food court. It was there we had our first Louisiana experience.

"One cherry-lemon slush and chicken strips dinner," the woman behind the counter shouted over the large mass of people waiting in line behind us. Her thick southern accent was quite different than my Boston accent, Becca's New York accent and Jeff's New Jersey accent. Sitting at a table in close proximity, we quietly chuckled to ourselves as the reality of our trip and our excitement began to sink in.

Louisiana Coach buses picked us up, along with about 80 other students from nine other Hillel organizations. Our hour-long bus ride was a real eye-opener. Staring out my window, I was shocked to see houses with gaping holes in their roofs and shutters tilting away from their windows, threatening to fall at the slightest breeze. There were very few people milling about, and a ghostly sense crept up on me as I noticed the deserted area. New Orleans appeared as though Hurricane Katrina had struck only a few days before our arrival.

"Look at that house!" URI freshman Becky Tobey had said in utter amazement as she pushed her finger against the tinted glass windows of the back of the bus. Less than 100 feet from where we sat lay the remains of a house, covered in ivy and marked with a spray-painted "X" surrounded by numbers. The house looked decrepit, the roof had a huge hole in it, shingles lay scattered on the ground by the front steps and wooden boards covering broken glass windows hid the interior from the outside world.

I later learned that the number on the top area of the "X" indicated the date the particular building had been searched. The bottom number was the number of human bodies plus the number of animals found dead in the building. The number to the left of the "X" marked the number of hazardous objects within the structure and the letters on the right were short for the organization or people that had searched the premises. Some markings were on the front doors while others were on roofs. A roof marked with an "X" meant that the house was entirely submerged at the time rescue crews had come. Just about every single building, house and school I saw throughout the week had been spray painted with the infamous "X."

Although this community service trip was in conjunction with Hillel, students of all faiths were invited to join us.

"I came to witness the suffering, poverty and destruction that the hurricane caused," Tobey, one of a few students outside of Judaism who came with Hillel, said. "I [wanted to] get a different outlook on my own life and stop taking things for granted."

When Hurricane Katrina swept through New Orleans more than three years ago, many people who survived were forced to evacuate, not only from their homes, but also from the state. People who were able to flee to the airport purchased any available ticket they could get their hands on, most of them having no idea of their destination. Sadly, most could not afford to return to New Orleans, let alone repair the horrific damage done to their homes. Many houses still remain deserted, whether due to the inability of homeowners to return to the area and fix their houses or because the owners perished in the horrific storm that swept through neighborhoods.

Throughout the week we stayed at Camp Hope, once known as PGT Beauregard Middle School. Located in the St. Bernard Parish of New Orleans and surrounded by barbed-wire fencing, this enclosure served as our home during our stay in New Orleans. Men and women were separated into classrooms that were transformed into bedrooms, each with bunk beds, allowing around 30 people per room.

Our days were long and filled with hard work, but they were very fulfilling. My group, the URI Hillel bunch, was teamed up with the Hillel group from Hofstra University. Our assignment: fix up 1803 S. Dupre St., located in the Broadmoor neighborhood down in Orleans County. Home to 85-year-old widow Marie Crockett, this house was indeed in need of fixing.

Between the nine of us from URI and the group from Hofstra University, we found ourselves bonding fast. We had all come with the same goal, to help rebuild a broken city. When we first began, I don't think that any of us had the slightest idea what to expect. Soon enough, I was setting up and climbing to the top of 20-foot scaffolding to scrape weathered paint from the side of a house. Overall, it was a great learning experience (though I don't see myself going into the construction business anytime soon!)

For Nechama Cusano, also a freshman at URI, the realization set in that "it's not so much the work we are doing but what we represent." For the people in this particular neighborhood and the city of New Orleans, we stood for hope and strength. We may have been just a little part of the reconstruction of a destroyed city, but a little goes a long way.