Rachel Feingold – December 7, 2009:  So, today I woke up in a grumpy mood (as usual) but in a half hour I felt as good as new after I put on my tool belt and ate a bit of cheerios and coffee. After breakfast all eighteen of us set out to the PNOLA headquarters, where Christi spoke to us. She was so cute and happy- her energetic was really contagious! After Christi gave her little “Schpeal” we separated into two groups and headed out to two different worksites. When I arrived at my worksite I was ready to set my teeth into a project. I went with Chris’s (a project manager) group, to a house shared by two sisters. The house however, with two front doors, was really two separate houses that shared a wall. Interestingly however, each side of the house was inhabited by sister. I thought it was interesting how the sisters lived together, and still lived together as adults. I think that down in New Orleans family tends to live together, and although I dare say that family in New Orleans is considered more important than in the rest of the country, I think that I can say that families proximity to one another is more important. Anyway, I started working, but I quickly left to go on a journey to pick up and drop off supplies from a KABOOM playground build, with Meredith and Greg, another PNOLA worker. I must admit, I was a little skeptical to go with Greg, because although I trusted he was from PNOLA, he was still a scruffy looking man who pulled up in a beat down white truck. However, my initial impressions of Greg could not have been more off. After the first five minutes of the ride I could tell that Greg was a genuinely sweet soul. He welcomed both Meredith and I to his city, the city where he was born and raised. Greg pointed out his favorite spots and told us about Po-Boys and Gumbo (delicious!!) . Interestingly, as we were driving, I forgot about Katrina and started to think about New Orleans as an actual city: A place not characterized by a single event but steeped in years and years of rich culture. This was the place where Greg and his parents had grown up. I was actually experiencing New Orleans. I wasn’t just reading statistics. I wasn’t just reading about deaths and facts. Riding around with Greg I was able to take a glimpse at the lives of these people. I saw them on the street corners laughing and talking. I saw the couch under the highway, where Greg told me people sat and drank. As Greg said in his endearing southern accent “Dings are chill in New Orleans, we are a slow paced in New Orleans.” There is a really interesting story to tell everyone about Greg’s mom but I am being told I am writing too much so I will refrain for now…but if you want to here it just ask me or Meredith! Love, Rachel

[posted by Jan due to the reluctant laptop’s poor internet connection…]