Thanks for asking

Even though it’s the “off season” for my crop reports, I’m still on the phone a good deal of the time, mostly talking to folks outside of Mississippi. A couple of times a week, someone asks how things are going with the post-Katrina cleanup and rebuilding. I always appreciate it when people ask because it means our state hasn’t completely fallen off the nation’s radar screen.

The quick answer, albeit a vague one, is: “As good as can be expected.”

The cleanup is broadly underway, and individuals are trying, where possible, to restore their homes and bring some sense of normality to their lives. Unfortunately, many people remain displaced and dispossessed.

There is no shortage of need. That fact was pounded home the other night when I went on the web site for Camp Coast Care (CCC), which operates a food and clothing distribution center, a free medical clinic and counseling services for Katrina victims. I’ll get back to those needs in a moment.

First, though, a bit about the camp…

CCC, located on the campus of a church school in Long Beach, Miss., also houses volunteers who provide cleanup services and work on homes that are worth saving. People from all 50 states and most of the Canadian provinces have slept in the school’s gym at night and gathered up in work crews every morning to help coast residents sort through their belongings, rip out damaged sheetrock and otherwise lend a hand.

The camp is operated by the Lutheran Episcopal Disaster Response, a program the two denominations share. It’s no stretch to say that people of all faiths and religious outlooks have shown up to stay at CCC a few days or a few weeks and do gritty, manual labor.

CCC is one of several ongoing efforts supported by a number of religious and social service groups. I just happen to know more about CCC because we’re Episcopalians and because one of the people who got the camp off the ground is an old friend, Jennifer Knight. Jennifer is a nurse whose husband, David, is a priest at a nearby church, or at least what’s left of it.

When we first met the Knights, David was a banker who had the thankless job of being treasurer for our church, which 19 years ago seemed to always be teetering on the brink of insolvency. Several years ago David felt a calling, went to seminary in Chicago, and returned to Mississippi, first to a church in the Delta and then to one on the coast.

The move put Jennifer at the right place at the right time. Her job blew away with Katrina, and she immediately tried to volunteer with the Red Cross and at a local hospital, but both turned her down. Jennifer still saw a tremendous need for medical services on the coast, and Mississippi's Episcopal Bishop, Duncan Gray, gave her permission to set up a clinic at the school, which had quickly turned into a relief center. Medical volunteers from as far away as Virginia showed up in those first days to provide medical care.

Jennifer now coordinates a stream of doctors, nurses, pharmacists and other professionals who’ve filled a vital need far from their own homes. They’ve treated cases of pneumonia, cleaned wounds and tried to stay on top of the medical needs of the weak, the young and the elderly. The hurricane has created what Jennifer calls a class of "newly poor" people, folks who lost their jobs, their homes and their support system. Some come to the clinic because their doctor no longer practices on the coast. Even months after Katrinia, the clinic sees over 100 patients a day.

Our daughter, Sarah, is now doing her third or fourth stint at the camp, and she’s down there right now for about 3 weeks. She made me aware of the CCC’s web site and told me something about the immense needs that still exist. Hundreds of tons of clothing were shipped to the coast within days of the storm, but Sarah said all kinds of apparel are still needed. She worked in clothing distribution for a couple of days this week and never had enough men’s pants or serviceable shoes for children or adults.

People are wearing shoes that have been through months of mud and decay, and even a good pair of used shoes or boots quickly finds a pair of feet.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have more blankets, too,” she told me last night. “A Vietnamese couple came into the clinic today with a sick baby. (The coast has a concentration of Vietnamese immigrants.) They didn’t speak much English, and it was a little tough to communicate with them, and the baby didn’t have a blanket.”

Sarah went into the camp’s clothing supply to find one, but there were no blankets left. She ended up giving the couple the blanket off her own cot. (Her mother, not me, gets credit for instilling that kind of thoughtfulness.)

I went onto the camp’s web site after our conversation and was struck by how much is still needed. FEMA checks are, at best, a stopgap for people who've lost everything. And it’s not just that the camp is trying to distribute food and supplies to local folks, it’s also feeding and housing 150 to 200 volunteers a day.

I’m passing all this along to my regular readers for a couple of reasons.

• First, let me thank you for asking about how Mississippi is doing, and also to say thanks for all the help that many of you have already provided.
• Second, if you’re looking for ways to stretch your involvement, go to the camp’s web site. There may be things on its “needs list” that you can provide. Along with the web site, there’s an excellent Macromedia Flash slide show that presents information about CCC and the relief effort. (Click on the map to bring up the slides.)