Gulf Coast Trip Reflection

Bill Macmillan 7/1/07

I left for the Gulf Coast with some reservations and a lot of anxiety. I wondered what kind of “impact” one person could have on a devastated community. How much can I really do? Do these people really need me? How can I contribute? Would it be better to donate the money to be spent on travel expenses?

A few months ago, I asked my Dad, Bill, a general contractor and skilled tradesman, to come along with our group and offer some direction and maybe help us accomplish a little more than we might otherwise be able to do. I was pretty sure that he’d site his lack of connection to my church community as a reason why he would not, but his response surprised me. He said “maybe” and told me he’d check on his work schedule and with my mother and get back to me. A couple of hours later, he called back and said “Ah, ah, yeah, I’m going”. I was thrilled at the moment but my excitement quickly turned to doubt about whether this was a good idea. He’d be going with 17 strangers and me, and after all, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to be there.

On the Friday night before the trip, I called him to go over some itinerary details, the tools list and some last minute packing advice. As usual our conversation quickly turned to politics and then to a book he’d just finished, 1776, an account of the revolutionary war in that year and I’d just begun reading it. My Dad quipped that he “doubted whether Americans were capable of making such a sacrifice in the face of an incredible challenge like that.” Cynically, but with my usual hopeful caveats, I conceded there is some question as to American fortitude.

Fast forward to our arrival at Camp Coastal Outpost in Kiln, Mississippi.
It was plain to see that Americans are up to great challenges, surviving, of making sacrifice while staring down adversity by coming together to help others. Of the 300 or so people inhabiting camp coastal that day, at least 200 of them were under 25 years old. It was astounding and inspiring. The place was bustling with life, so many people happy to be there, to serve people in need and take part in something bigger than themselves. They were thrilled to be there and I was proud to be among them. I think everyone in our party knew immediately that they were about to do something very important that would further shape who they are –who we are.

After settling in and getting my bearings, I realized that the rest of the group was missing so I went looking for them. They were seemingly nowhere to be found until Jay Beaulieu and Pat Gallivan caught my eye, they were in the kitchen with the rest of the crew. They’d apparently asked how they could be of help and were enlisted to make sandwiches for the next day’s bagged lunches. I welled up and kept my distance sitting on a picnic table for a minute until my eyes dried. I approached the kitchen with an unprecedented feeling of pride to be with them. These were my people, a bunch of doers. It was truly a moment among moments. The momentum was building for something extraordinary. The combination of the First Parish Milton gang in the kitchen and the selfless volunteerism of so many young people had mooted my feelings of doubt about American’s willingness to pull it together in a time of need.

As our week progressed, everyone weathered the slow morning starts and their job assignments with grace. We completed some work on a few homes, a school bathroom and some even worked sorting through x-rays in a hospital that was decimated by the storm. We met the folks whose homes we worked on and received emotional gestures of appreciation from them. One woman told another in our group that she’s “sure glad [you] Yankees won the war.” Kent, a Deputy Sheriff in Hancock County MS, and the homeowner of the house we were re-siding fought back tears of appreciation every time we were with him. It was moving to be in his presence.

Throughout the trip there were a lot of laughs. Our evenings were spent in community and whether it was a car ride to the beach, a meal in the mess tent or a beer at the bar next door, we were receiving another benefit of such a trip, forming bonds with like-hearted people that will be remembered for a lifetime.

For me, the trip began being all about what I could do, a need to fulfill my responsibility to others, but as the week progressed, I learned that it was really about a need to affirm faith in myself and others, to see evidence that individuals can come together and facilitate change and know that others will follow and keep progress alive. We return with good stories, memories, new perspectives and pride. We return hoping to inspire others to go, as they are, to bear witness, make an effort and get more in return than they can ever imagine.