Hurricane Houseguests

After Katrina hit I knew I needed to do my part. So I headed to Costco and stocked up on peanut butter crackers, cheese crackers and water. I figured if I hadn’t eaten in awhile, some peanut butter crackers would look mighty tasty. Frank and I took our supplies (which could all fit in the trunk of my VW Bug) to the Salvation Army the next day. Wow, we're such givers. And Jon Bon Jovi is right. Giving feels good.

And if we hadn’t already contributed enough, Frank pledged money at work and they matched it. We’re still waiting for a personal call from the president. Or at least mayor Ray Nagin. But we understand they’re busy. Hey, we just like to give.

Just as we were getting sore from patting ourselves on the back, we got an email from Frank’s Aunt and Uncle in Houston. They gave peanut butter crackers too—to the displaced family from New Orleans living at their house! That’s right. They’ve got a family of three sleeping, eating and swimming (they have a pretty cool pool) in their home.

I should have seen this coming. If anyone was going to outdo us (and we set the bar pretty high), it would be Aunt Marilyn and Uncle John. Why just this past June, when Frank and I had to change our travel plans and fly out of Houston at the last minute, Marilyn and John stepped up. We gave them two-hours notice. And when we arrived, not only did they have a room all prepared for us, (I think maybe there was even a mint on the pillow) Marilyn had cooked this extravagant meal. And what’s more, we ate in the dining room with a tablecloth and candles! I’m hesitant to get out the tablecloth even at Thanksgiving. Then very early the next morning, John rose to drive us to the airport. But not without a full breakfast from Marilyn.

I mean, if someone wanted to sneak a visit on me, I’d be okay with it. I may even call Papa John’s in honor of their arrival. But they’re not getting a tablecloth or candles. They’re lucky if they get clean sheets!

I tried to imagine what it would be like if Frank and I took in a family.

(Begin dream sequence):

I mean, really, hurricane victims are the best kind of houseguests. They’ve been living in horrific conditions. You know what that equals? Low expectations. I could cook mac-n-cheese every night and they would be grateful. Pop Tarts for breakfast (we have a huge box from Costco), PB&J for lunch…they would think I was their queen. But after a couple of weeks, they may start complaining: “Mac-n-cheese again, Queen Elsa?” and “Really, I’ll wash the sheets myself!”

And then what if they got wind of what was going on at Marilyn and John’s? “Queen Elsa, they’re getting steak on tablecloths over there! And I heard they get to play water volleyball and chill out in a hot tub!”

“It’s all a myth!” I’d tell them. “Marilyn IS cooking them mac-n-cheese. But it’s not even Kraft. It’s the generic kind from Wal-Mart. So consider yourself lucky!”


(End dream sequence.)

Do you see what saints like Marilyn and John do to the rest of us? I used to be this charitable, giving person and now, here I am, lying to hurricane victims! I decided I could never go beyond providing lame snack food or making impersonal monetary donations.

But then, a second chance. Another hurricane. And this time in my hometown. I got calls from family, asking if we could take them in. And these hurricane victims would be a tougher crowd. They were going to arrive before the storm. You know what that equals? High expectations.

I prepared for at least six people plus five pets. And when I say “prepared,” I mean I just daydreamed again about what I would cook, where they would sleep and whether or not I needed to clean the bathroom. I didn’t bust out the table cloth or anything.

And then last night at 9:00 the troops arrived. Well, it turned out to just be one troop. And by that I mean just my mom. Everyone else decided to stay.

Nevertheless, I’m going to do my part. I’m giving my mother and her cat the best accommodations. And yes, I even washed the sheets. She may not get candle-lit dinners, a hot tub or fun-filled games of water volleyball. But by golly, she can have all the peanut butter crackers she wants.