This is the talk I gave for Real People Real Stories, Winter
2019
I have a cheat sheet because – senior moments.
This is a celebration of
“git ‘er done”.
I grew up on a farm up near Kinderhook. The cows had to be milked at 6 o’clock –
that’s BOTH 6 o’clock’s every day. The hay had to be brought in before it got
rained on, even if we were in the field after midnight doing it – and the cows
had to be fed and taken care of – and the results of feeding dealt with every
day had to be shoveled out. We had to
“git ‘er done”.
In 1969 I saw ads and stories about a musical
theater going to open in Chatham. I said
“I like music. I like theatre. I don’t have anything going on – I was a
single mom with a 3-year-old - this might take up a little free time.” So, when they had auditions I went in and
said “I can’t sing or dance but I can be a warm body to help out if you
need”. They took my phone number and
called me in a bit to help get the rented space on the fairgrounds ready to be
a theatre. One evening I was walking by
the founders Linda MacNish and Lynne Haydn and the director and heard them
talking about needing an antique bird cage for the parlor scene in “My Fair Lady”,
the opening show. I stopped and said “I
think my mother has one in her antique shop.”
And the three of them, I swear in unison, turned and said “Your mother
has an antique shop? How would you like
to do props for us?” I said “Um, sure - what
are props?” No clue. Found out.
And that little free time lasted 50 years and in
that time I did props and a whole bunch of other things.
Theatre is all about ‘git ‘er done’. Everybody does whatever has to be to get show
open, get it up and keep it running.
Like the time we stayed all night redoing the set for Secret Garden to
open at 2 that afternoon
Mac-Haydn had a history of helping “Git ‘er done”
with disasters and other things. There
was an ongoing collection of donations for area animal shelters, we collected
things for Operation Adopt-A-Soldier, donations for Midwest flooding, worked
with area groups to help collect three truckloads of things, which I went down
to help unload and distribute after Hurricane Andrew & more – we ‘got ‘er
done to help out as we could.
Along in there I re-married and we ran the gas
station on the corner by the light in Chatham.
My husband was very active with the fire department and rescue squad and
we started dispatching the ambulance from the gas station – this was way before
9-1-1 in the county. At that time you
had to be a Chatham firefighter to be in the rescue squad, they were
connected. It didn’t take long doing the
dispatching for me to figure out that to “Git ‘er done” – get a crew into an
ambulance and get it to the patient – there needed to be more people
available. So myself and some other
people started pushing the fire company to allow people who were not Chatham
fire fighters and (GASP) Women! in. In
1975 we “got ‘er done” and I became the first non-firefighter and first woman
voted in. I’m still doing it, going to
do a shift on Christmas afternoon.
The theatre ran in the summers, and for the first
several years I had a full-time job and did that part-time - nights, weekends. After a while I started working for the
theatre full-time in the summer and finding another job over the winter. The last one of those I had was over-the-road
truck driver and that was all about “git ‘er done” – we’d leave Massachusetts
on Friday for a Monday delivery in Los Angeles – but we “got ‘er done”.
I left that in 2002, when Linda MacNish passed away,
to help Lynne keep the theatre going, and we “got ‘er done”.
So, all these things are a background to August 28,
2005. Hurricane Katrina. We all saw the pictures of New Orleans under
water, the rooftop dogs. I said – we
were at the end of the season and had to close up the theatre and stuff – “Soon
as we get buttoned up here I’m going down there. I think I can probably help somewhere.”
I got connected with a coordinator and left on a
Monday morning to head to the Gulf coast in Mississippi, helping a church group
with meals for people. Drove through the
remnants of Hurricane Rita, and got to near Knoxville and stopped to get
gas. It was late, so I asked the woman
at the fuel desk “I know you have a sign out there on the car side that says No
Overnight Parking – I’m headed for the Gulf – where can I park overnight?” She said “You jest park it over there by mah
pickup – nobody’ll bother you there.”
Well, nobody bothered me and in the morning I went
on, was in the morning rush hour traffic in Birmingham and my cell phone rang. It was the coordinator saying that the meals
thing was shutting down and would I mind going to an animal shelter in Tylertown,
Mississippi instead. I said I’d go
wherever and so I turned west instead of east off the interstate. Got to Tylertown and stopped in a little
place and asked how to get to Obed McGee Road.
“Oh, y’all’re right close,” the fellow said, “Jes’ go up this road right
here a few miles, you’ll see some big silver chicken houses on the right, just a
tad past them take a left and Obed McGee Road’s jes’ down there a bit.” Well, I’m a country kid, can find anything
off ‘a tad past three silver chicken houses’.
I did and went down Obed
McGee Road to a sign “Camp Katrina, Providing Disaster Relief For All Animals”
– with two porta-potties next to it – but that’s another story – and turned in
and told the fellow at the gate “I’m a warm body, here to help.” Something about that phrase. Anyway, we talked a bit and he gave me an
official name tag – silver duct tape, for working with the dogs, with my name
markered on it and said “Find Elizabeth, she’s got on a ball cap.” I found Elizabeth and told her the same and
she said “We’re kind of all set right now, maybe you could go to Gonzales.” Gonzales was another shelter, on a
fairgrounds closer to the city.
It was pretty late in the day so I asked her if it
was ok if I stayed the night and go find that new place in the daylight and she
said “Sure, you got a tent? Put it up
over there.” I did and stayed the night
and in the morning went to the meeting they had to set up the game plan for the
day. A man there asked did anybody have
any veterinary experience – vet tech or anything and nobody said anything so I
(put my hand up a little) said “Um, I grew up on a farm and I’m a people
EMT.” And the next thing I know I’m
helping him put an IV in a beagle.
I did some more things in the infirmary and that got
done so I went outside and Rick, the guy who’d been at the gate the night
before, was shoveling a load of stone that was just delivered. It was being put down as a base for the
kiddie pools they washed the dogs in when they first got there. Those dogs had been a month now it was after
the storm, walking around in who knows what was left when the water went down,
so they all got a bath. I said “That’s a
bunch of stone, you got another shovel?”
He kinda looked at short, chunky grey-haired me and (with a doubtful
tone) said “Over there.” (As an aside)
“Please! I can shovel.” We were
shoveling and chatting and Elizabeth came by, stopped and looked and said
“That’s it. Gonzales ain’t getting you.”
I stayed there for 10 days and it was one of the
most phenomenal experiences of my life.
The Humane Society group had just bought the property a month before the
storm and all that was on it was a raggedy little house, so they had to build a
shelter literally from the ground up.
People came from all over the country, Canada, never saw each other
before in their life, said “I’m here to help” and took on doing something they
knew how to.
JR and another fellow
were carpenters so they put a roof on the house so the cats and supplies and
equipment and the infirmary and other animals in there would stay dry.
Rick had been an MP so
he was in charge of security. We each
had to do a shift walking security around the perimeter at night because people
were trying to steal the dogs to use for dog fighting. (Gasp from the audience.)
Beth worked with
troubled kids. She spent three days
sitting in a pen with a traumatized dog until finally it came out of the dog
house and then let her pet it and then sat in her lap.
I did a lot of putting
tarps on the pens. This was Mississippi
in September and it was 90 plus degrees with 100 plus percent humidity and the
dogs needed shade. And putting stuff on
fire ant hills – those are nasty buggers.
Along with all that
everybody was taking care of animals: feeding, walking, giving fresh water, playing
with, cleaning up after dogs, the cats, birds, turtle, a goose – and every day we
‘got ‘er done’.
There were so many stories – a couple of favorites.
One woman had brought her husband, but he had
dementia so she had to keep stopping what she was doing to keep track of him
because he would wander off. We figured
out to tell him “Blaine, we have a job
for you. It’s very important. We need you to sit here (in the pop-up tent
where the dog food was stored) and guard this dog food, make sure nobody
bothers it. You’ll have a dog to help
you.” We put a chair in the tent and we
gave him Precious – she was a beautiful, sweet pit bull, she’d been a puppy
mill mama and was just the sweetest dog.
He sat down, took her leash, she put her muzzle on his knee and he put
his hand on her head and they sat there all day. And nobody bothered the dog food. (pause)
And I can’t tell that story, 14 years later, without choking up.
(Pause)
Choking up in another direction – Remember the part about the heat and
the humidity? Well, as you might
imagine, working like we were in that we got to looking – and feeling – and
smelling – like we Really Needed a Shower.
And there were none there – remember the two porta-potties? Those were the only amenities. There were showers up by the crossroads, a
shower station that the Red Cross had put up.
It was a big tank for the water with an engine of some sort to heat that
up and pump it to the shower heads. The
showers themselves were pallets on the ground, with a framework and tarps
making fours stalls with a shower curtain on the front. One evening four of us went up there, with
Rick and his guard dog and his guard beer to run the water tank engine. Best Shower Ever! However - the Red Cross, in all its infinite
wisdom, had put these showers up on the lawn of the area Baptist Church. And as we were coming out of the showers with
our cutoffs and tank tops and dripping hair and smelly clothes under our arm
the service was just letting out and the Baptist ladies were coming out togged
in finery such as only Southern Baptist Ladies can be. They looked at us and we kinda went “Hi?” (little wave) and Laurie said “Were else
would four naked white women be taking a shower on the lawn of the Baptist
Church?” (Audience laughed.)
Besides people coming from all over to help, people
came from all over to take animals to where they could get homes – again all
over the country. There were some
reunions and those were wonderful, but mostly the people were so scattered it
just couldn’t happen
Almost everyone fell in love with an animal and many
were able to take them home. Phil took
Spencer to Florida, Kathy and JR took Tyla to Canada, Pilar the veterinarian
took I don’t know how many to the Canadian Rockies.
Elizabeth and I were at the check-in table one night
– the teams would come back from the city late at night and we’d put down as
much information as could be found for each animal so it could be posted and
maybe have a reunion. Rita came up to
the table with a small carrier and said “We have this one kitten and – however
many it was – dogs.” I looked around and
said “Ah, nobody’s here from cats, I’ll take it.” I took the carrier inside and fixed a cage
and took the kitten out and he climbed up here (indicate chest) and put his
little paws here (each side of my neck) and his little nose here (under chin)
and I said “Ah, shit.” (Hold out hand
with ‘kitten in it’) “How do you feel
about a long ride north in a few days.”
And he said “Meoow.” Which I took to be “Git ‘er done!” I checked and the only information about him
was, scrawled on the back of an envelope “Kitten, found 2400 block
Desire.” Found on Desire Street, his
name had to be Streetcar.
I keep in touch with a
lot of the people from there – “Thank you Facebook”, have been back to visit
once and hope to go again before too long.
But Streetcar reminds me almost every day of some part of Camp Katrina
and that phenomenal group of people who all came together to “Git ‘er done”.
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