Hammerin' in the Delta

Returning to the Delta

This year there are twelve of us from Sheil participating in a week long Habitat for Humanity trip. We've returned to the small community of Tutwiler, MS for the 15th year in a row! In that time we have aged, expanded our families, changed jobs, and much more. But to me after a two year absence it seems as if the Delta has remained in place, change comes slowly here.

In this blog I hope to share our journey with all of you, both the challenges and the humor. I'll share photos and reflections from the group in addition to my musings. After a long car ride of 12 hours yesterday we've taken a day off today to aclimate before the work starts in earnest tomorrow. This morning some of us went to church locally and some went up to Memphis. Before Mass in Clarksdale a man asked us where we were from and what brought us here. He said, "You don't look like any carpenters" I gave him a look and told him he'd be surprised!

Casey

Saturday, May 19, 2018

Reflections from John

We are on our way to Tutwiler, MS for our annual Habitat for Humanity Trip from Sheil Catholic Center at Northwestern University. There. Now that I have gotten all the titles out of the way, here is what has happened so far.

Lots of Chicago traffic. Lots of highway. Our customary rendevous at Neiberg’s Steak House in Effingham, IL, home of adequate food, congenial waitresses, and pies that frequently do not get eaten. Our group got caught up in that Chicago traffic and arrived about a half hour after the rest of our company, who were already eating. A waitress came to take drink orders and told the ladies in the group that both Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi were available. I ordered a regular Coke, with caffeine and sugar. They don’t have that. Just Pepsi. Not a good harbinger of good karma for this trip. The temperature is 82 degrees, indicating that we are a fair distance from Chicago.

At about 4:30, we made a gas stop at the famous Boomland! fireworks and souvenir store and gas station, where an astonishing variety of Southern kitsch is available for purchase. The atmosphere of the place can perhaps best be illustrated by the selection of baseball caps for sale. They range from florescent colored ones with the store’s logo, the devotedly Christian (some of which were quite clever,) to those extolling the various branches of the armed forces, to the inevitable one proclaiming the inviolability of the Second Amendment. The fireworks themselves are in another part of the store, past the summer clothing, every imaginable variety of hot sauce, a surprising amount of African American art, and a wall full of crosses. I only spent a few minutes looking over the various wares available in the fireworks section, which was about the size of the typical grocery store, but that was enough. The man in front of me was purchasing something the size of a large waste basket with descriptions on the side of what each of the six shots produced. There was something called The Godfather and my personal favorite, The Angry Mother-in-Law. All accompanied to the strains of Christian country music.

We are definitely some distance from Chicago.

John

Church and Civil Rights

Below are a few pictures from the trip to Memphis. I was fortunate enough to go to the Civil Rights Museum a few years ago. It is a solemn place that incorporates the Lorraine Motel. This year Peter, Mary, John, and Dave made the trip. Mary just told me that as soon as the sign came in to view she choked up.

Casey

Sunday, May 20, 2018
reflections from John

I have always found it a little strange that we drive down on Saturday and have Sunday off before getting to work on Monday, but it gives us a chance to recover after the long drive down, and we usually manage to have fun on Sunday. As we often do, some of us traveled up the road to Memphis. We attended Mass at St. Agustine, a predominantly African American church in Memphis. Some of us have visited before, and it is a pleasure to come back. Two things it has in common with Sheil are great music and warm hospitality. This is Catholicism with a definite African American vibe. The service lasts an hour in a half because nobody is in much of a hurry, the parishioners dress in their Sunday best, far more formally than some of us are used to, the choir just has to belt out a couple of gospel numbers, and they make all visitors stand up and introduce themselves. But the best part for me was the warmth with which we were received. We are many parts, we are all one body.

Andy and Adrian headed off to see Graceland, but I decided that the King of Rock and Roll was a little out of my price range and went to see the National Civil Rights Museum, featuring a King of an entirely different sort. The museum, located in the former Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King was assassinated, is commemorating the 50th anniversary of the assassination. I will leave some of our other members who were visiting for the first time describe the museum.

Then it was off to dinner on Beale Street. I am reading the autobiography of W.C. Handy, the “Father of the Blues,” who got his start on Beale Street. 100 years later, Beale Street is still a sight to see, similar to Bourbon Street in New Orleans, but cleaner and not as degenerate. I vow to return some day when I can just spend hours and hours going up and down Beale Street. Oh, and we did not get back to downtown in time to see the ducks parade back to their penthouse suite in the Peabody Hotel, an event I always seem to miss. So I will have to return for that. It is wise to leave something for old age.