From New Orleans to Maine

I returned to Maine from New Orleans a few days ago, so I write to you overlooking a frozen apple orchard in my home state. It was a crazy time to leave, as about 150 new volunteers came in to gut houses the weekend before my departure. St. Mary's was buzzing with energy and excitement. But I wanted to see some loved ones here in Maine over the holidays before I depart for Peace Corps service in Guatemala. My time in New Orleans, at least for now, has come to an end.

New Orleans, and much of the Gulf Coast, is not okay. Images like these are not from the storm's aftermath last fall--they continue to be a daily reality in the Ninth Ward and other areas hit hard by Katrina. Hundreds of thousands of people are still displaced from New Orleans. The future of entire neighborhoods, particularly black neighborhoods, is uncertain. The Housing Authority of New Orleans is using the disaster as cover to destroy over five thousand low-income housing units scarcely damaged by Katrina. The Louisiana Road Home money that is supposed to help home owners rebuild is still not being widely dispensed sixteen months after the storm. The levees are not being upgraded, merely rebuilt to the strength that failed last year.

But there is hope. St. Mary's, the Catholic school-turned-volunteer facility I have called home for the last three months, is shutting down at the end of January. Why? Common Ground is almost done gutting the houses on its waiting list in the Ninth Ward, and the school needs to be renovated so that it may reopen for the children next September. Citizens are organizing for the right of return, organizing to save their homes from demolition. Volunteers from across the country and around the world have responded to the disaster, and their home communities have supported them in countless ways. People are joining together to battle injustice, work for peace, and better their collective future.

My time in New Orleans was intense, inspiring, and deeply meaningful. I learned so much--about race in America, about the poverty- and drug-affliction of inner-city neighborhoods, about people and politics. Every day in New Orleans something happened to me that touched my heart. An encounter with a stranger in the street, the resistance of the people to the oppressions of their daily lives, the generosity of friends and allies.

My life has been changed by my time in New Orleans, and I feel more strongly now than ever that compassion and cooperation are the only way forward in this insane, cruel world. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to serve in NOLA, and if I wasn't called to Guatemala I'm sure I would have stayed. But somewhere in the mountains of Central America lives a community of people who, like so many in New Orleans, inspire by their strength and sadden by their poverty. In about four months I will be living and working among them.

Thanks for being a part of the journey. Remember that we needn't travel to distant places to work for peace and justice, and that there are hunger and hopelessness to relieve in our home communities. Happy Holidays and blessings upon you.

Much Love, John