University of Virginia New Orleans Journals\r\n\r\nFriday, January 13, 2006\r\n\r\nCatherine Neale, College of Arts & Sciences\r\n\r\nWe moved to the cafeteria floor last night. The Drexel Auditorium where we spent the previous nights was transformed into a sanctuary for the rededication mass, a ceremony I had the good fortune to attend this morning. For the first time, the entire MAX School (the combination of St. Mary’s, St. Augustine’s, and Xavier Prep) convened in a single room. Over six hundred students, their teachers, their administrators, and some alumni gathered to officially open the school and celebrate “taking it to the MAX.” Despite the devastation that touched every single one of those lives and the fact that, as Reverend Tony Ricard repeated, “it wasn’t supposed to happen that way,” power and hope vibrated throughout that room. A gospel choir of students from all three schools filled the space with love and strength and joy. As Father Tony recalled the story of the hurricane and related his anger and disbelief, students nodded in agreement. They also nodded in agreement when he told them that God is still with them and that Katrina had given them the opportunity to make history with the creation of the MAX School. After Father Tony restored faith, the school auditorium was again filled with the sweet voices of the choir. I couldn’t help but empty my wallet in the already overflowing collection plate that funded the newly combined marching band. Regardless of religious tendencies, anyone would have left that room with faith in the future of New Orleans.\r\n\r\nI needed to hold onto the hope and spirit as we went to gut some more houses this afternoon. Driving across the Inner Harbor Navigation Canal into the Ninth Ward, I saw the absolute destruction that still doesn’t seem real, that can’t be explained by a few words on a computer screen. I could sit here all night attempting to verbalize my experiences without even beginning to explain them. What made today’s trip even harder was the realization that some of those homes belonged to the students who just sang in the choir, who worshipped in the service, who gave to the collection. Think of that: those students donated to the collection, even though they didn’t have a house; that’s hope and perseverance. Most of the week we have been separated from that human element, that human connection, that human aspect of gutting houses. The only connection to the residents we experienced was through their material goods. When we first entered the structures, they were homes. They were filled with all the families’ worldly possessions and memories. By the time we were finished, the homes were on the sidewalks and only a house was left.\r\n\r\nMost of the time we have spent demolishing, or as we call it “demoing,” houses, however, has been in isolation. The neighborhoods are empty, except for a few cells of fellow demolishers. When I went out to get more protective masks on Wednesday, I had to drive twenty-five minutes to find an open store, and the entire time I was still in the city. There are just miles upon miles of New Orleans without electricity, water, stores and residents. Regardless of the days we spent in class, nothing prepared me for the breadth of damage; it was everywhere, and we haven’t had the opportunity to see the rest of the Gulf Coast.\r\n\r\nWith such widespread devastation it is difficult to figure out what to do or even where to start. The bottom line is that we have to start. We start with one collection contribution, one college counseling session, one gutted house, one painted building. Although our handful of contributions will not fix the city, they are a place for us to start. The people of New Orleans will keep those starts going. With a lot of starts and a lot of heart, New Orleans will return.\r\n\r\nOriginal URL: http://www.virginia.edu/topnews/releases2006/NewOrleansJournal16.html