Hello world and fellow geekcrafters! Would anyone else like to join in Craft Hope’s “project 19″, softies for Hurricane Sandy kids?
Since the deadline is January 10, I figure maybe I can whip up a few murlocs. The project doesn’t specify toys-only, and I think a fun monster hat is both useful and … um, fun.
Heck, maybe this will finally spur me to write and post that murloc hat pattern. Yikes, that’s been too long!
This is a follow-up to my previous post from the perspective of the one who has lost a home and all possessions. I know many people right now are facing life without a home, without possessions, without mementos and precious heirlooms, without even a birth certificate anymore.
Here are a few tips on how to help these people facing the biggest life change anyone’s ever likely to face. Honestly. It was easier to put my father to rest than to figure out what to do after my mother lost her home.
Note: I get maybe a bit snarky toward the end when I talk about what not to do. Keep in mind this was an emotional deal for me, too, and cut me a tiny bit of slack if you can. I’m really not being ungrateful, and I’m just trying to help people understand maybe what it’s like to be on the receiving end.
For everyone:
The folks at the epicenter are not equipped at that moment to answer detailed questions, and anyway emergency officials have asked them everything—even horrible questions to find out if the person was responsible for her own world’s destruction. It’s awful. Please don’t add to that maelstrom of questions.
I know you want to help. If you aren’t in a place financially or geographically to spare a dollar or a pair of jeans, you can:
For local folks:
This sweet note made it clear to use only what my family needed. They really REALLY appreciated that.
If the victims are still staring at the wreckage of their home, or sitting motionless on the cot at the shelter, get a pack of socks, underwear, and t-shirts for the person (or family). Put it into a simple bag for them with a bit of room to spare. My brother received a duffle bag with those things inside (from someone afar, actually!), with the note you see here. It was the best.
If there are children, a small stuffed animal may offer amazing comfort to them. (This is out of my experience, though, so most of my tips are applicable only to adult victims.) A bottle of water and a piece of fruit or can also be nice. My mom was really happy to have pajamas to sleep in that night, and a pillow like she lost. It’s the little things.
Red Cross should already be there (the fire dept is supposed to call them), but in our case, the FD had a few unusual things going on (running out of water, for one), so if RC doesn’t show up soon, call em up. It won’t hurt if you end up calling them and they already know. They’ll deal.
Offer your phone for the victims or someone close to them to use to call family or the insurance company.
If there are pets involved, find out their names and go looking for them around the neighborhood. Seriously, you’re helping more by getting out of the immediate area. And what an amazing turnaround for my mom when she found one of her cats.
Red Cross should get them a place for a day or two to stay. Try to help find or even negotiate a middle-term housing situation for them. In our case, that is a travel trailer. In others cases it might be an apartment or other rental, housesitting (yes, really), or the ol’ spare bedroom.
If this was just wear, of course it’d be fine. But it’s not. That brown stuff is grime. Not stains: dirt and grime that rubs off when you get near it. Don’t do this.
Don’t take it personally if they don’t stay in the place you find for them. Just giving them an option is a huge relief for them. Mostly. Don’t try to force them into the “easiest” option or the closest option. Don’t put them into a place you wouldn’t want to spend the night, yourself.
Which brings me to this tip: OMG, don’t give them anything you wouldn’t want to receive yourself. They don’t have anything, sure, and they’re grateful, but they still have dignity. Don’t give them rags to wear. Don’t give them the couch from the porch, the rugs the cats peed on, or a place to stay that would make a crackhead uncomfortable. Seriously. My mom was gracious and we, her family, tried to be, too. We all love second-hand and thrift stores, but there’s no way some of these items would’ve made the cut at Goodwill. Again, just because they’ve lost everything doesn’t mean they’ll take anything. Imagine staring at strange walls and facing the thought of sleeping on questionable, stained sheets, and eating expired food. Imagine if that’s what your new reality becomes.
Remember that time three years before your house burned down? Yeah, even then this pudding was expired. But those were good times, huh?
Don’t make this the moment you take out the trash. And for the love of Pete, don’t donate expired food. Ever.
Pee stains, anyone?
Mom was grateful for the clothing she got from neighbors and friends: the clothing that was folded and stacked on her car’s hood as it sat on the road; the clothing that was hung in the closet of the room my friends put together for her, and hung up or folded in the donation center the neighbors put together. The clothes in the trash bag? Not as excited to pick through and find the best-of items so clearly stamped as throw-away. And seriously, she loves Goodwill. It wasn’t a matter of “good enough” or “nice enough.” It was all about just taking a few moments to show that the items you are giving them were good enough to take a moment to fold, stack, or anything other than “unceremoniously dump”.
For out-of-towners:
My brother—also displaced by the fire—got an overnight package in the mail with some clothes and a duffle bag, as I mentioned. This was so awesome and discreet. He appreciated the gesture and its method. Better still (the note is one of the photos above), the sender acknowledged that my brother might not want or need some of the things in the bag. They gave him the sensitive “out” to use only what he could or would use. I don’t know who those friends of his were, but THANK YOU, friends. You have no idea what a relief that was for him to know it was ok.
Setting up and arranging the PayPal thing, and spreading the word on contributing to it, is a big help. Folks on both coasts are eager to contribute, which is amazing, as are folks in between and in other countries. It’s just amazing. One friend from the past is arranging her group of crafters to donate just $5 each to the fund. It’s just the sweetest thing.
My mom has no idea what she’ll do next, so item donations aren’t an easy possibility. Does she need a new table or bed? She didn’t have a place to put it, and ended up finding a “home” that came with built in beds and tables. Does she need a coat for winter? In Texas, that’s a question for next-month mom. She’s not in contact with today-mom. They’re not on speaking terms just yet.
Sorry, out-of-towners. There’s less that you can do, but not nothing. Even if you can’t do financial or physical contributions, I hope the list of “legwork” items (above) that you can do from afar can help you feel involved.
My aunts and uncles were able to travel into town to help out for a few days, and it really was great to have them near. My brother and I were able to return to work more quickly than without them, and having my mom’s “peers” around was much better than her feeling like her children were taking care of her.
Today she’s watching the bulldozers remove the wreckage of her hand-built home. Today I’m back at work, but before I could dive into writing as part of my job, I had to get this writing out of the wreckage of my own thoughts. I hope you’ll forgive its state, and I do sincerely hope it helps you—anyone and everyone—to understand how to help.
It’s not you, it’s me: your perineal cleanser might be a kingly gift, but if the recipient doesn’t need a half-used bottle of it, maybe don’t take that the wrong way.
One final thought: don’t take it personally if your gift or suggestion if not accepted. I am finding it a good change of events to have mom forming her own opinions again. The first few days she was unable to make decisions at all, ate when she was told, went where we pointed, and in all ways was mastered by the situation. Today she is mastering it, and the help she still needs is ever more difficult for her to accept. I hope I keep that in perspective and understand that she’s finding what she most lost: her fierce independence.
Thank you, one and all, for helping her get there again. But maybe not so much thanks for the expired pudding.
Mom on Tuesday afternoon, within 48 hours of her home’s destructive fire. No place to go and no idea what to do.
For my entire life my mom stored my stuff and kept all the family heirlooms and her own collection of antiques and junk, treasures and stuff. Now it’s gone, burned down to the last button box and coffee cup. This is probably what a lot of people in the northeast are facing right this very moment in the wake of hurricane Sandy.
Let me tell you, almost as bad as losing everything is realizing no one is stepping in to help you and no one knows what to do. Maybe this account from our first days after the fire (today is day 5) will help you or someone you know.
Step 1 from FEMA and Red Cross and other emergency sites say to contact your insurance agent. In the case of my mother’s home, an owner-built act of love and necessity, insurance wasn’t an option. Right, on to step 2.
Stuff that used to be stuff and is now different stuff. Even heavy iron pieces like these sewing machines and my piano were bent and warped beyond repair.
Step 2 says to contact the fire department to find out when it’s safe to go back into your home and see what can be salvaged. Uh, please tell me there’s a step 3, because the fire was so complete anything recognizable is bent, melted, and ruined past even the point of art. There is no home to go into.
Step 3? If you are part of a “declared disaster” such as in the northeast, call FEMA. My mom’s house was a solitary fire, so there is no governmental aid. Let me tell you what we did and what we found out, because there just aren’t resources out there for “step 3″.
We contacted the Red Cross, who usually show up at the fire, wrap you in a blanket, and whisk you off to a hotel or shelter for the night. For some reason, no one called Red Cross immediately (I guess it was our first time doing this), so we sat down with them a few days later. They gave mom some money for continued shelter, clothing, and food for a few days. The Red Cross is for immediate aid only, though. So what next for her? What next for anyone?
Edit: The neighbors’ solution was a local bank. However, out-of-staters wished to donate, so we also set up a PayPal account that deposits back to the local benefit account (and you’re welcome to donate at this link about mom’s tragedy. And thank you if you do!).
When the newspaper or TV comes by and they ask what the next steps are, be ready to tell them what people can do. We didn’t have a roof under which to store donations of goods, so money donations were the next best thing, and could go towards finding that roof over mom’s head. They’ll ask you what you need. If you or another loved one can offer a phone number or email or other contact info, do so. Frankly, people might not be generous long after the disaster. I hate to sound callous, but let them help you when they ask. If you can’t accept physical donations yet, ask a loved one to arrange a donation drop off location AND arrange to caretake it for you. And for what it’s worth, accepting help is hard, but what you’re going through is harder. If possible, have someone else—maybe that loved one handling some of these other tasks for you—accept things on your behalf. It is hard to believe you need help, hard to accept it, and hard to put it all into perspective. Someone else can accept these things and put them all out ready for you at your hotel, guest room, or site at the shelter.
Only a few charred timbers and cast iron fixtures remain recognizable.
It feels hollow to say right away, but you will get through this. It sucks more than any other life emergency I’ve been through. But you will find something positive in the ashes.
For mom, she went from “yes, of course I’m going to rebuild” a few hours after the fire, to considering leaving the neighborhood (in which she’s lived over 30 years), to thinking about a semi-nomadic lifestyle, and finally—after one pet returned 4 days after—to thinking about rebuilding once more. Give yourself permission to grieve for your lost home and security, to fret about the unknown, and to simply not have all the answers.
The answers will come to you eventually, with space and time you must take for yourself.
Next, I’ll write a few tips on how to help people who just lost everything, while it’s fresh on my mind. After that, another few steps to get the survivors of tragedy past the few days and into the next weeks. This is, of course, unfolding as we live these moments with my mom’s situation.
So here we are almost done with October, and nary a word from me on my car-free October project. Well, before the last week is here, let say a bit aboot it.
Short story: used the car three times. I’ve gone way WAY fewer places than usual, and I like the expectation of not driving each morning.
The details: it’s not easy getting downtown from the burbs. Sure, buses run there, and most even have bike racks.
So on October 4, my first car driving day, I mapped it all out and realized that I wouldn’t make it downtown in time for my meeting. Two buses and a mile walk (or quick ride) from the bus stop meant I’d have to leave work around 4:30 to do it. And that assumes no missed connections.
Add to that the return trip: another ride/walk in the dark, and another bus transfer. This one, though, I had to make by 10:15 or I’d have to bike an extra 6 miles on a main road at night. People do it all the time, sure. But I hadn’t.
Couple all that the coincidence of mbf needing to be a few miles from me and in a similar situation (transfers, darkness), and we figured this one was ok to drive. We put the odometer on and saw that the whole round trip turned out to be over 40 miles. Very glad we didn’t try biking the whole way!
The second car-date was on the 17th: a surprise gift of concert tickets for me! The concert was even further away than the Oct 4 meeting, and what’s more, mbf had also invited a friend who needed ride and had zero bus options. We picked her up, concerted, and gladly delivered her safely after 1am. No bus runs that late out there or to our house, so again we called it good.
The third time was just lazy. This was yesterday, and I was on my bike, down the street, when a cold gust hit my face. When I factored in the threat of rain and a necessary trip during the work day (which I’ve twice before made by bike) and which would likely be during a cold downpour, I said screw it. I turned around and came home and got my car. I did, however, take my roommate to work. So carpooling happened, at least.
That use of my car was pure comfort-driven (pun intended), and it’s why I decided to finally blog about this. Last weekend I got my car fixed and so it became an option to use again. And a week later, when the weather was a teensy bit less fun, I flaked.
That’s disappointing. I thought I was more resolved than that. It brings home the whole thing, though: what I’m doing this month is totally by choice. I’m not forced to bike and walk. I have many vehicles and even willing friends to help get me places. I’ve merely chosen this.
Why?
I wanted to see how much less fuel I could use. And news flash, that came out to be a LOT less. Even using my car once a week for 40-mile trips is a zillion times better than my daily 6-mile round trip to work plus another 2 or 3 mile jaunt to get food. I’d still have made those longer trips anyway.
I stay home more, sure. But I go out by arranging carpooling, offering to be someone’s DD, or being creative. By forcing myself to choose carefully when I go out, I’ve only done things I was really interested in, really invested in. I’ve saved money there, for sure.
That is so not sarcasm. And neither was that. Seriously, I’m being straight here. Oh, Internets. I have so much to tell you. It all starts with teh bestest Monday evar.
No word of a lie.
Let’s name how this Monday was so great: I got a huge box o’ stuff out the door for a free pickup by a local charity. Bam. Less stuff in my life. Someone else gets to make muffins. Next. Song.
That’s extra great, because Monday (and Oct 1) also began a month-long car-free quest, which means I’d've had to balance that box on my head or something on my bike. Yeah. Bam to the FACE, petroleum!
So far, rides to work have been awesome and a bit refreshing. Nice to get exercise right off the bat. Tomorrow, I’ll take the bus downtown for an evening meeting. That one should be interesting, and better yet, I’ll get some reading done on the way.
Ok, how about a full moon Monday? Done. First day of a new, less-busy week? Done. Just finished my weekend classes on Sunday. Bam. No more kicking it down to San Antonio for a 2-day bender of classes, only to be followed by the brutal workweek.
That sweetspot week between MBF’s birthday and mine? Totally today. A year anniversary of a good friend’s arrival? Bam. (Thanks, good friend, for coming over to help with my technologies.)
iPhone 5 arrived, a full week earlier than I’d expected. Bam. No more broken, nay smashed screen for mees!
And in one week is my niece’s birthday. So? Bam. Let’s make her something fun with her name on it, per her request. I gave her sister a fun bunting for the younger’s 7th birthday, and now the older, this week’s birthday girl, wants something of her own. I used part of the bunting I’d made for myself when I turned 35 (dudes, you’re never too old for rainbows, unicorns, or cupcakes. Trust me). I sent her gift today for a Friday arrival. Does that bam count? Ok, bam. Extra credit bam, I ordered her something from my favorite site: thehungersite.com. They have really awesome, interesting, and fair-trade stuff.
Tuesday was kind of brutal. But Monday? Yeah, Monday was a rockstar.
Walking home today, I found myself struggling with the question that’s plagued me the last few weeks and months: will it matter in a year? Five years? A century? Will what I’m pouring my life’s energy into be worth remembering in anyone’s future?
I struggled to find my meaningful “place” in the world.
Then MBF reminded me that I am struggling with that question because it’s a choice I am able to make for myself. It’s an incredible luxury to be able to pick and choose what I do to make a living, who I spend my time with, whether I eat meat, veggies, or home-delivered organic local foods, whether I walk or bike or drive one of my five vehicles to work daily, whether I upgrade to iOS 6, whether to keep my old iPhone (the horror), or whether I set aside enough time to study for a pass/fail class I’m taking on the weekends.
These are all amazing luxuries I have that I call problems.
Forget first-world problems. Forget white-people problems. I’ve got problems the 1% would envy.
This is an incredibly humbling, shaming, and amazing moment for me.
I’m no closer to finding that meaningful application of my life, but at least I can see that just having the chance to consider it is a wonderful thing.
Hey, Internet. I need you to keep me honest about this. My plan is to make October a car-free month for myself.
The idea? I won’t drive myself anywhere. I won’t allow myself to be ferried anywhere the driver wasn’t already going. That is, no fair just calling up friends and asking for rides. And if someone else, say MBF, decides to do this as well, no fair carpooling with that participant and calling it good.
Well, mostly no fair. I mean, if there is something that is massively required, ok. We’ll analyze it and go “yeah, that’s something we need to take the truck/motorcycle/van for.” But that’s also why I’ve started thinking about this in September: I want to weigh my “normal” car use and figure out what’s necessary and what’s not. Driving to the Coffee Bean? Heh. Driving to the grocery store? To work? Downtown? These are all places I’ve biked, walked, or bussed to at least once before, so I know it’s doable.
So how about Oktoberfests? Yikes. That one is tougher for me to let go. Then again, the one I typically enjoy most is only a few miles from home, and I can go early enough in the day that I don’t have to worry about darkness. The one further away.. Well, I biked there last year, but it was hellish. Might give that one a bye this year… and I’m sure I’ll be healthier for it.
Remember how Thursday I bit the bullet and put in cabbage, kale, lettuce, black eyes, and calypso beans, in the hope of fostering a shared garden? Yeah. This is them today, Tuesday morning:
That’s the cabbage plant I put in, plus some bean and lettuce sprouts. Nevermind the pea sprouts off camera. Wow!!
Just last night I told my brother I had seeds in the ground, ready to make me delicious food until winter. Actually, I have seeds. I have a couple starter plants. But nothing is in the ground.
Admittedly, I’ve been busy and sick alternating nights this week. So after reading this:
Quebec Couple Holds “Bed In” to Save Their Frontyard Farm from City Officials – Environment – GOOD
…I’ve decided tonight’s the night. I just have to “dig in” and do it once and for all, before the season’s gone. There’s still time! I used this garden planner (sprout robot) to tell me what I should plant for my area. It’s actually pretty cool, although I wish I could go back a week and see what I missed.
Anyhoo, tonight’s gotta be it. I’ll do what I can and worry about the details later. Planting food in my front yard(en. Yarden. I’m trying to get this to catch on, people) is just too important to put off any longer, especially while some towns are outlawing it!
Short version: so I’m reading “How to Lose Weight While Cycling | Biking Fitness Plans and Advice | OutsideOnline.com” and I see someone’s done this math for me: One study found that the average bicycle commuter loses 13 pounds in the first year without overhauling their diet or doing other exercise.
Dayam. Long story shortish: I bought a big ol’ truck for work projects around the house (turns out, ferrying 4 10-foot logs at a time for 120 mile round trips is not more efficient than simply using a truck once). It’s a gas guzzler, so since the faithful Geo is nigh-dead—a constantly leaking rear tire, shot brakes, shot suspension (including struts and shocks), and a whole bunch of little nagging complaints including 3/4 of the door handles completely broken off—it has become our “daily” driver.
But since most daily driving is actually my scant 3-mile commute to work, the quarter-mile to the grocery store, and lassitude-fueled trips to seek out convenience food, it’s not an issue at all that we simply switch to cycling for the daily short trips. Miles per gallon = infinity.
Longer trips (like downtown and anywhere up to about 40 minutes away) on nice days are on the motorcycle (50 mpg), and if it’s really bad or really far, then we’ll think about the truck. Extra-far is the VW. Both get around 12 mpg.
Egads, I have too many vehicles. Happily, half of them are bikes.
And so, my point. It not only pays money for me to bike around, it pays in pounds. If the average commuter (and who knows how far they go) loses 13 lbs a year with no other changes, that’s 1 pound a month, for free, that I could chalk up. Doing that math, it’s about 125 free calories per day (assuming a bike commute every workday). That’s like half a candy bar. Knowing that my own commute clocks in at 217 cal per roundtrip, I can get a whole candy bar, or maybe a latte!
I’d cycle to work daily if my reward was a latte. 
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