| Back o' the Page Stories, March 2009
By Scott CoverdaleYou know how a person gets a little desperate and starts looking for the exit? It was pretty obvious that this was happening when Kristi first got to the job. I could hear in her voice that she was nearly overwhelmed. But Kristi is also the quintessential Storm Trooper-she will gather her wits, resolve and resources-at-hand, and with a nod towards the possibility of complete failure, she will roll up her sleeves and dig in, never looking back. Kristi and a lot of CHRPA teamsters spent the next two weeks on the home of one Ms. P. There were setbacks: there was grime and some field-dressed injury; there were maybe a few tears along the way. But nearly the entire company got a piece of the action, so we all shared in the battle. We collectively spent 264 hours on the job. We did some major roof repairs, floor repairs, replaced the front door, opened clogged drains, replaced the kitchen cabinets, countertops, sink, toilet, and rewired what didn't light. The cost? A lot of time and around six hundred dollars worth of materials. The result? Well... "Now I got hope. I don't want to commit suicide every time I hear the rain dripping inside. It was like a faucet. I actually prayed over the hole in the bathroom floor, that it wouldn't get any bigger. Being ill and seeing your house fall apart-you have no outlet, nothing to hope for. I paid $4000 for the house but I didn't know how bad it was. Now I have something to look forward to-I have a home. I don't know what I would have done without all you beautiful people. You are heaven-sent. I'm going to take care of this house. It makes me smile so much!" Ms. P. once worked as an electrical technician for IBM, until, as she puts it, she got a bad case of schizophrenia and depression. Now her life is considerably more difficult, with a bundle of trouble and a steady regimen of 18 pills a day. She receives $45 a week to buy food, clothing, and the dark coffee whose rich smell wafts through her house during the day. But now that her house is safe and waterproof, she hopes her children (ages 14 and 16, now living with her mother) will come to visit her again. As we left, she thanked our workers again and again with hugs and tears and promises to take care of her house and keep it clean. This probably isn't the last we will see Ms. P., but next time it will hopefully be under considerably less desperate circumstances.
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