rejection

Thursday we arrived on the Gulf Coast here in Mississippi, talking daily with community groups and NGOs about how we can help, where we can help, what we can do, anything at all. Responses have varied from graceful declines to adamant refusal, but all have been unanimous, please please do not show up here with your two children, we do not have anything for you to do. Truth is, they're right. I mean, really, what did I expect. I am not trained in animal rescue, do not have any sort of toxic materials handling training and ... I have two young boys. I did, however believe I could transfer volunteers, hand out materials, inform people, fax press releases, or something.

Today, it turned around, a little. On the boat, the boys were enjoying a snack, while I listened to a reporter asking some questions to National Park rangers on board. Ship island is part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore. ( Yes, I was being nosy, but he was sitting right behind me.)

When their conversation ended, I turned to the gentleman and began asking my own round of questions. Turns out, he and his wife write for www.bellona.org, an international environmental organization based out of Oslo, Norway. At the website, you can find daily, in depth reports of what is happening each day here in the Gulf. They've been all over the area checking out the various efforts being conducted by BP officials to clean up the mess. Though many attempts have been made by various groups to deter BP from dumping dispersants into the spill zone, they continue to do so. Worse yet, they have chosen the most toxic of the dispersants, which they happen to have a hand in making. Interesting.

As we spoke, a young woman aboard introduced herself as a reporter for Univision (check www.univision.com - a spanish speaking news network) hoping to produce a piece in the coming days, but running into roadblocks in getting answers from even clean up volunteers. Both of these folks seemed to be getting the cold shoulder from anyone on the ground related to the companies responsible for the spill or even those working on the clean up. I mentioned my own frustration with not finding an opportunity to volunteer. About this time, we docked and filed off the boat, and into the pouring rain.

As it poured, I noticed a crew of folks walking the island with a homemade scoop of sorts on a stick and wondered what the purpose was. My own young child crisis was in progress and this kept me from any further investigation.

On the return trip, the sun returned (briefly,) highlighted by dolphins diving near the boat and several families of brown pelicans near bouys. I noticed nearby the fellows with the funny scoop were standing with a cardboard box in tow. I asked what they were up to out on the island. The two were volunteers out taking water samples after hearing reports of tar balls washing up on Ship island. They stated that they personally did not find any evidence of tar balls, but volunteers picking up garbage found themselves soaked with oil residue in addition to a dead oil soaked bird on shore. Bad news.

As we departed the boat, a young National Park Ranger approached me. She heard of my rejection from organizations and agencies (including her own) when I offered assistance. She promised to turn that around, and she just happened to be the volunteer coordinator for the agency. Lucky me. All it took was a boat ride and a 3-hour tour. A 3-hour tour.