We spent the day doing a little demolition. The house had already been stripped of drywall--down to the studs. After all, dry wall doesn't work so well once it's been wet wall, and this house was six feet under water for 53 days.... But don't worry, it was dried out and had been sprayed for mold/mildew long ago. Anyway, we pulled nails, stripped out all old electric wire (no electricity in the house yet, just a box on the street that allowed us to run one big fan), and pried out three rooms of hardwood flooring. You should have seen the pile of rubble we created! It was hot as Hades until we got a downpour--lightning, thunder, everything. We felt a little dread just thinking about how it must have been for the families when the storm started. How did they feel when the rain started falling and gthey knew what was to follow?

The homeowners live in a small FEMA trailer jammed into the yard next to the house. Alco, the husband, 63, watched us work, giving us tips on the best way to use a broom, a pry bar, etc. He showed me a few of the sentimental things they had been able to salvage. He focused on some wooden toys, stroking them lovingly.

"My brother made these. He's handicapped--just has the use of his arms. He's in a nursing home in Tennessee right now. They like him and they take such good care of him."

"What happened to him in the storm?"

"Well, you know, he was in a nursing home here and they didn't get to them to evacuate gthem for five days. By the time they got there, the water was up to here on him." Alco points to his chin. "They put a toe tag on him," he said angrily. They thought he was dead. He should have been dead."

"I s'pose he wouldn't like a storm like this one right now."

"Oh, no, that's the truth. Whenever there's a storm, they have to send someone -- I think he's a psychologist? -- to sit with him and talk to him and comfort him, he gets so scared. So he's the one who had it bad with the storm. Not me. He's the one."

Looking at Alco's house, with not a single interior wall left, with all the family photographs gone, with the wiring ripped out, and the tiny trailer he and his wife live in, I still have to think that Alco can legitimately claim that he had it bad. But he is filled with plans. He points to where he wants a bigger kitchen and bathroom, even a jacuzzi. It will be better than ever. But there is so much to do. Thousands and thousands of volunteer hours will be needed to take his shell of a house and make it a home again.

"This storm brought a lot of good for some people. Before, New Orleans was dying, it couldn't sustain. Now...?" He shrugs. "It brought a lot of good for some people, yes, I think so."

Marge