I had the privilege to meet and photograph many people during my time in New Orleans. Here are the brief stories and portraits of my now extended family. Then a friend of mine asked me to join him and his wife on a small mission trip to New Orleans. Tears started to well up in my eyes. There was no doubt, I knew this was it! THE OPPORTUNITY! A photo essay from a volunteers perspective in New Orleans. I immediately said yes and penned out my last three days of vacation time at work.

“Did you ever survive complete and utter destruction of every single thing around you that provided any measure of security – your home, your life partner, your job, all your family photos of the faces you loved, pictures showing that your being here mattered and that you were loved – then have the child you brought into this world hold your hand and ask, “Where will we sleep tonight, Mama? Will we be safe there?” and realize you have no answer to that question.”” Lisa Voiles – What There is Left…

To me this scene symbolizes the struggle and determination of the people of New Orleans. Tattered and torn, no matter what, this is their home! Almost defiant saying you won’t stop me. I will rebuild. Against all odds I will return home! The 9th Ward was one of the most heavily impacted areas. As of 2008 most homes have not been rebuilt. Acres of homes were washed away leaving behind concrete slabs as a the only marker of their existence. This trailer was one of four “homes” on this street. The eraser board tombstone and wreaths present a makeshift graveyard. But far from that, there is life here. A shrine dedicated not only to what was but what will be.

During my time in New Orleans I had the pleasure to meet John “Jack” Dee. As a retired Marine he had a never give in attitude toward the storm. I met him on his first day back into his house after being reconstructed. He was the first to return to his neighborhood out of 300 homes. Jack shelters abandoned animals. One of his cats survived Katrina by staying in trees and roof tops, living on whatever floated by. She was waiting for him when he returned. He sat on the back of his car, where he lived for three months with his dog Rocky, sharing stories and photos of his family. All his valuables still packed and ready to go, not at ease yet or trusting his new familiar surroundings.

While driving around near the musicians village this man invited us into his home to give us a verbal tour and history of the Musician’s Village. He was not a musician but his love and knowledge of music was unmistakable. He was more like the curator and his home the Musician’s Museum. Large paintings of Jazz greats and a portrait of B.B. King decorate his living room. The greatest exhibit was a large glass wall case filled with photos, statues and trinkets of musical instruments. Music is the heart of New Orleans. When the musicians started returning, with a place to stay thanks to the musicians village, you could hear the echos of some faint melody approaching in the distance. The life blood of New Orleans has returned.

We were traveling to a work site in the 9th Ward on our last Saturday. We decided to work on this house as a bonus, we did not want to stop working. Something had driven us all week, the comradery, the great need, we felt it all. And although fatigued, it all seemed effortless. We had a crude map of where we were going. Our caravan ended up getting turned around several times and taking some wonderful off map excursions. This housing complex was one of the wonders. Several acres of skeletons. Like a graveyard for buildings. It was a new complex before Katrina with several areas still under construction. The buildings died before they had ever seen life. No children would ever play in its streets. No warm glow from house lights during the evening. The absents of civilization. Now pigeons inhabit bedrooms. Undergrowth seizes the streets. Nature reclaims what it lost to man.

Portrait of Anna Mae Ferbos as she told of hard times and good times in the 9th Ward home she has lived in since she was a child. Four generations of her family live in this house. Her son died of cancer in a room 10 feet from where she was standing. Why rebuild, people ask. This is what she does! This home is her life.

See more of the essay America’s Unresolved Disaster

To get involved in helping New Orleans rebuild download the project PDF and lead your own group.