Joplin Clean Up

We spent a day in Joplin last summer and I was so moved by the experience I had to write about it. The Bolivar Herald Free Press printed my story, so now I'm a published author! Whoo-hoo! Joplin still has a long way to go, but the city is making progress.  If you have time, read my story and let me know what you think.

JOPLIN RECOVERY AND CLEAN UP EFFORTS　
As the brewing storm approached, we watched the Weather Channel with trepidation, praying for those in the path of this storm. The television coverage of the devastation from the F5 tornado, which plowed through Joplin, Missouri, is what spurred my husband and I to heed the call for help on this hot day in June.
The young man in charge of our group seems a bit nervous; this is a leadership first for him. He thanks us for coming today and reminds everyone to put on sunscreen, and please pick up a face mask. The group waits patiently, sipping bottled water wondering what to expect as we sit near the check-in tent at the university admiring the green and serene landscape around us here.
We are directed to get on the school buses that are waiting to take us to the work area; these are the short buses. You know what that means. It seems appropriate that I get on one of these. Challenged with the task ahead as I head off to help with this disaster clean up effort. This is a life-school I am not familiar with; I must be a slow learner, because I cannot encompass the scope of this disaster. Tornadoes knock down trees and peel off a few shingles; but this F5 has pulled up the grass, twisted gigantic chunks of metal, and even shifted buildings off their foundations! House after house, block after block, mile after mile, just like the newscasters have told us it would be, but it is so different to see in person. Looking across the vista there are so few standing walls. Only a few tree trunks are left, looking like odd sentries placed here and there. Amazingly, now one month later, they are sprouting. Wasn’t it Churchill who said, "Never, ever, ever give up"? I relish that optimistic little reminder to myself.
The buses deliver us to the high school and into the oversight of more young Americorps workers who give us the safety instructions. I’m trying to pay attention to those instructions, "Drink lots of water, put on sunscreen, wear the dust mask, gloves, and eye protection. Sign in and stay with your crew leader," but am distracted by all this wreckage. The top of that building is missing, the sign on the ball field is twisted around what is left of a light pole, the windows of the school are blow out, the walls are riddled with holes from flying debris bullets and yellow safety tape warns us to keep out. More instructions…"Pick up shovels and rakes. Push a wheelbarrow and follow the leader. Wait, leave a couple of wheelbarrows for the next group coming in". Then, silently our group walks into this disaster zone, each of us awestruck, taking pictures, whispering "Oh my!" We walk for blocks past devastation and cars that might have participated in a roller derby smash-up fest. We walk too far, this road is blocked by big trucks and other work crews. We back track to our designated work area on Missouri Street. Where do we start? There is so much stuff…junk…twisted metal…dirt… We pick up a tool and literally dig in. Think of the people who lived here – there is no basement, no inner room in which to take shelter. Dear Lord, how did they survive? We know the answer…159 have not.
　
Everything looks as if it has been run through a mulcher/shredder and mixed with dirt. The debris cloud that Dr. Forbes the severe weather expert tells us about must be this stuff. We see bricks, dry wall, wires, building material; the pieces of people’s lives, all obliterated. Here are someone’s shredded bits of possessions…glass, a long piece of video tape, a hard drive still attached to this twisted metal, the padlock ripped from what ever it was holding, a brick tossed here, a splintered piece of cabinet there, an empty Jell-O box, over there the little packet from inside, a quarter to toss back onto the house foundation, the base of a tea cup "made in China", a hand painted little sign buried under the rubble that says "Someday I will find my prince", a bath towel, a dolly missing one leg, a mangled teddy bear... We scoop up endless shovels full of this dirt, brokenness, and debris until each wheelbarrow is filled to over flowing. We scoop, scrape, dump, and repeat. We feel a small victory when one area is cleared. We move this carpet of "tornado poop" into sorted stacks of trees, bricks, metal, construction material, or debris dirt.
The smells come slipping into our noses even though we wear our face masks. It is a musty, dusty, mildew, rotting, decay, and sometimes even a dead smell of some poor small animal or perhaps the contents of a refrigerator left for a month in the elements. We try to remember to stay up wind of the raking, scraping, and dust blowing that happens with every shovel dumped into the wheelbarrow. It should never be a surprise to see the cockroaches skittering across this unlivable landscape, but it is to me anyway. There is a little mouse running across the yard. It has survived a tornado, and just when it must imagine it can’t get any worse, it gets squashed now by a shovel, it’s mouth gasping, wide eyed and tossed into the pile of debris. Across the yard someone sneezes and there is a chorus of "God bless you" with no pause in the work. From a distance, I can imagine we look like a bunch of ants trying to push the dirt out of our anthill.
The volunteers have come from all across the country and locally too. Like in the movie Close Encounters of a Third Kind where the characters are all compelled to get to Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, we come to this Good Samaritan’s vacation destination. The volunteers seem to share an inner urging to come and help, to contribute our time, provide a small civic duty, and try and make this world a little better with a few hours of our manual labor. I thank God that this disaster wasn’t mine and in gratitude donate my efforts. We meet a couple from Louisiana who took their week of vacation from work to spend it working on clean up and sleeping at night on cots in a Baptist church just outside of town. This vacation story was often repeated as we volunteers worked and chatted with each other. A father and son from Milwaukee, another couple from Kansas City who parked their RV at a campground this week to come here and work, a 76 year-old man from Walnut Grove - all of them work without ceasing, all coming together for the good of Joplin.
The volunteers embrace various jobs – raker, shoveler, wheelbarrow hauler, chain sawer, and large scrap carrier etc. The Crew Leader with the walkie-talkie keeps checking on everyone making sure we drink water, thanking us for the work we are doing. We volunteers work for hours just chatting with each other. "Where are you from, how long have you been here, where is the water, where is the porta potty, when is lunch, there’s a church van with refreshments, the sweat dripping is in my eyes, Yes, doesn’t that sting? And there isn’t a clean scrap of my T-shirt to wipe it off either."
The scavengers are always present too, like buzzards on the side of the road cleaning up dead carcasses. They drive beat up old cars and broken down pick up trucks, following the volunteer crews, picking up the salvageable twisted metal pieces hoping to garner a few dollars from the sale of debris. The big trucks lumber along to collect the remnants of the hot water tanks, washers, dryers, and refrigerators that weren’t shredded and sucked away.
There are so many volunteers, working relentlessly, seemingly undaunted by the challenging landscape of so much to do. Like little ants we plunge in and start sorting, piling, scraping, and digging. Instructed to clean up only the front yards and the sides, but not to go on the homeowners’ foundations or back yards. We bring the debris to within ten feet of the street. The big trucks come later to pick it up…after the scavengers have come by to take the things of value or to retrieve the appliances.
We work and our hunger grows but the couple from Louisiana is encouraging. "Wait till you taste the jambalaya. These church ladies have been cooking all week, and they are good cooks". This morning we have cleared off five front yards and progressed almost to the end of this street. The pace of work slows, and it’s time to go get lunch. We walk back the few blocks to the high school and see the lunch tents in the parking lot. Thankfully, there are porta potties. We have been drinking our bottles of water. But oh my goodness, the condition of the Hillbilly Porta Potties is deplorable. They are full, stinky, and swarming with flies. If only I could find a tree to hide behind instead. At least I still have my face mask to wear in there!
After a good lunch and time to rest in the shade we are revived. Our group returns to finish the clean up on that side of the street. It’s time to get a ride on the short bus back to our car at the university campus. My lesson of hard work, compassion for those who need help, restoration of the belief in the goodness of our fellow Americans, and knowing that there is still so much more work to be done in Joplin is learned. I know God is good; the city of Joplin will recover.