Maybe Things Are Looking Up

I have a severe shortage of volunteers. We generally don't need many at all - only very rarely do we need to put out calls. But I recently learned that Tullahoma will be taking in around three hundred evacuees in the event of another Gulf Coast hurricane. The Coffee County Emergency Management Agency will be running the shelter and relief operations. Red Cross will be staffing it. That's me.

I sat down the other day with John Riley, former Emergency Management Director for the City of Tullahoma. My main concern was recruitment. After yet another scolding for the state of affairs and the, shall we say "distance" between the Tri-County area and the Heart of Tennessee Chapter in Murphreesboro, he agreed to help me. Basically, he said that many local organizations had already abandoned the Red Cross and had begun disaster aide organizations and partnerships on their own terms. A few Baptist churches in Franklin County, for example, had organized themselves. "We don't like the way we've been treated by your people in Murphreesboro. And now a lot of people here don't feel they need the Red Cross. We can do it ourselves. So why should we help you?"

I had several counters but began with this: "I know there's a tradition of pride and self-reliance around here, and I think people taking initiatives like this are good. Taking steps to help people is good. But people know the Red Cross. All over the world, we're the first organization they think of when they need help. We're not going to turn them away and say 'Sorry, you need to go down to Winchester to the Baptist Church'. That's the first thing."

"Secondly," I said "it's not about helping me. I have a roof over my head. It's about helping your neighbors, here in middle Tennessee, and elsewhere. If there's another Katrina, this town will be taking in two to three hundred evacuees from the Gulf States. They're coming to Tullahoma, John. Should they be denied our help? Because FEMA won't agree to house them at the First Baptist Church of Winchester. They'll be housed at the National Guard Armory and the only people allowed through that gate will be Red Cross staff. Why? Because we've been doing this for a long time and they know who we are. It's not so much that we need your help, John. The people we're trying to help need your help."

John scratched his head. "I'll help you. I'll set-up some meetings," he said. This was a pledge he had made before but had yet to pay off. "What you need most is publicity. You need to draw the people in on a large scale." Really? I hadn't thought of that. "But you need to give the papers a reason to print your story."

Two hours after John left, Alan Lendley - the Coffee County Emergency Management Director - came to the office to pay a call. The topic of discussion was local shelter operations for a Gulf State evacuation. I told Alan that we would do our best to get the people he needed to staff shelters, but that the Red Cross needed his public support. He gave me permission to give our story to the press and to provide his name as a contact for an interview. Before the day was out, we had an appointment to perform a shelter survey of the barracks at the National Guard base on East Carroll Street in Tullahoma.

That was two days ago. Yesterday, Alan, myself, and Kiel Hargrove (our Emergency Response Director from Murphreesboro) toured the barracks and performed a shelter survey. The Emergency Management Agency of Coffee County will be in charge in the event that the shelter is activated, and it seems all is ready to go. Except my end, the Red Cross end: supplying the people to staff the shelter.

When I got back to my office, after lunch, I called Brian Justice of the Tullahoma News and pitched him the story. He said it looks good and that he'd be following up with me, Kiel, and Alan, and that he'd like a photo. Hopefully, this story can be a rallying point, a helpful tool in recruiting.

If we don't get the volunteers we need, chances are that the town may not even care. But it will make all the difference to to those who need their help, who will have lost so much through a horrific act of God. To give assistance to those who need it most is a good deed - it is honorable. To help provide some sense of security to those who have lost their home is something that one can be very proud of.

I hope the story gets published and that it inspires the reaction that I intend from the public.

The Outsider

When I first decided to head south, to the small town of Tullahoma, TN, people warned me that I shouldn't expect too much in the way of "southern hospitality." Southerners are self-reliant, self-sufficient, and they don't like yankees coming down here to help them as if there's something that they can't do for themselves. Of course, the accent (or lack thereof, depending) is a dead give-away.

The uncertainty that local of this small southern town have about me as a northerner is compounded by the somewhat shakey history of this local Red Cross office. Most of the details are inconsequential, but the long and short of it is this: Until last year, this office, serving Moore, Franklin, and Coffee Counties was self-contained as its own chapter of the American Red Cross - the Treis County Chapter. Last year, the board of directors of the Treis County Chapter voluntarily relinquished their charter because they had spent themselves into debt. The Treis County Chapter was subsequently merged into the Heart of Tennessee Chapter, operated out of Murphreesboro - a town about a forty five minute drive north of Tullahoma. The assets were absorbed, the debt was paid down, and the staff and board of the Treis chapter were dissolved.

I can imagine that this experience must have been painful for many in this community. It is a magnificent office, rich in history, and has been very well maintained. To be essentially stripped of it must have been more than just a black eye. And so, particularly with respect to the Red Cross office in Tullahoma, Tennessee, many seem to have an uneasiness if not a downright intolerance for outsiders.

For some reason, I thought that this "outsider" syndrome might not apply to me. I thought that I needed only be respectful to be welcomed - if not only tolerated. But, in the words of Sister Aloicious "I have doubts."

I form agreements with local organizations for shelter facilities, meals, and other supplies for disaster victims - which we, in the Red Cross refer to as "clients." Instead of relying on large supplies such as Wal Mart, I wanted to focus on local companies especially. So, two to three weeks ago, I arranged a meeting with the president of a wholesale grocery company based here, in Tullahoma. I showed up at the appointed time. The company president did not. I was amicable in offering my understanding. I know from experience that schedule mix-ups are a fact of life. I gladly offered to reschedule. I left some paperwork and my card with his staff.

This past Monday, I still hadn't heard back, so I called again and left a message. As of right now, I still haven't heard back. Now it is the middle of summer, after all, and just after Independence Day weekend. So I haven't surrendered hope. But doubt has begun to creep in about the will of some to cooperate.

I hope that my reasons for doubt in this particular case turn out to be nothing more than the result of some kind of neurosis. However, while some things may be mistaken for an unwillingness to help, in other cases there is no mistaking plain hostility.

I have formed a relationship with a very wealthy, powerful, well-connected, well-reputed local man. I'll call him Hank. Hank keeps me informed about many of the dealings that happen in local business, politics, etc. He has many friends, one of whom is a woman who, let's say, was very active in the operations of the former Treis County Chapter of the Red Cross - I'll call her Jan. Hank offered to arrange a meeting between us. Thinking that this was a wonderful opportunity to learn from those who have gone before, I told him I gratefully accepted.

The day of the meeting arrived. Everybody seemed in good spirits. When we finally sat down, Jan brought out a big axe and began to grind away with me as her proverbial stone. "I have little to no respect for the Heart of Tennessee Chapter," she began. Something inside me told me to get up and walk out right then. For the next ninety minutes, she kept grinding away at every incident and occurrence that had happened in the past, before the Treis Chapter began to have its problems.

I was disrespected. My friends were disrespected. We never got the credit and recognition we deserved. They treated us like trash. Several times I tried to guide the discussion a la Mark McGuire in Congress. "I'm not here to talk about the past. I'm here to talk about how to best move forward." Inevitably, it kept drifting back to people and things I knew nothing about, in times when I had never heard of Tullahoma. And of course, it was all about her - Jan - not about the Red Cross and how the local organization might be rebuilt.

Finally, after an hour and a half of wasted time, having given up on progress entirely, I began to rise, smiling, looking at my watch. I excused myself with "I have a conference call back at the office and I need to grab lunch still." It was all a big waste of time. You can bet that, even after the initial urge to get up and leave, I had that impulse several more times throughout the meeting. But Hank had gone out of his way to try to help me. Couple that with the fact that he is not the kind of guy I want to piss off anyway. My ass was planted in that chair, my eyes were wide, my hands were folded for the whole meeting.

Hank, however, was pleasant enough to call me up a couple of days ago to follow up. "Did you get any help at all out of the meeting?"

I knew he would respect candor. "No, actually. Not really." I think he had anticipated that answer. After all, he had sat in that meeting, too. I told him that I had walked in thinking I would be offered guidance and advice, but instead I sat and listened as bodies were dug up and axes were guided. I told him that I had no intention of pursuing the relationship with Jan any further.

Hank was very gracious. We met that afternoon at the pub and he bought me a drink.

Obstacles are rising slowly and solidly, like boulders through the surface of a melting glacier. Course correction will be required as initial signs of progress seem to hold little hope for achievement. Who knows how things will turn out? I don't. But time will tell.