I could give you a line about how hard it is to put down in words something so grand as a tragedy, which caused one of the greatest migrations in American history. It's true that the weight of all that has caused me to agonize over each sentence. I could also tell you it's because of a sea of minor personal distractions like the holidays, my job, or my dirty laundry, but really that's a load of bull. This story is too important to forget, yet I did so for a while anyway.

When I first came back about six weeks ago today, the urgency I felt to convey what I'd seen was overflowing, but passion fades. I guess I'm like a lot of people in America. We have short memories. In the midst of all the coverage of President Ford's death, Iraq, and shopping season, Katrina is like an empty beer can left on Broad Street during the Mummer's Parade. It'll get picked up again, eventually, but don't hold your breath waiting.

Well, sorry folks. I'm back at it. I'm sure despite my delays the people of the Big Easy are still stepping forward. You'll recall the last part ended with Day 3 at Mr. Mike's. Dry wall and fried chicken in the Gentilly section as we began rebuilding the interior.

The next day was more of the same. I was on the same crew, and we hit a rhythm, with everyone settling in to the jobs that suited them best.

I spent a lot of the day beside Don Keckler, another volunteer, screwing in sheet rock. Our mantra was the old construction standard "measure twice, cut once."

I guess mantras aren't my thing because it took me almost two hours to hang my first solo sheet. I marked the time, sometime after 11 a.m.

Over the first two days, our group developed a bond with Star, Mike's new puppy. A friend at the courthouse told Mike about a litter, and even though he was still getting over the loss of his golden retriever, he decided to take him in.

Star was thin as a rail, but energetic and playful. He spent most of his time in the back yard. The stray problem in the city is still bad, and volunteers are told not to approach strange animals because of diseases and biting.

Our crew chief Dan Krall told us about the dozens of former family pets who banded together for survival, reverting to a primal pack mentality after the storm. Their owners left them behind or lost them in the chaos.

"The dogs would sit around in the park and watch us," said Krall. "If someone shady was coming up the street, they would bark. It was like they knew we were there to help."

Krall set out our goals for the rest of the day over lunch. We needed to finish insulating, and dry wall as much as possible before dark. In construction, as in an emergency, priorities needed to be set.

"If something like this happened again, and people were evacuated by boats, do you think they'd let them take their pets?" asked Regina Pound, a former schoolteacher who handled most of the organizing for our trip.

She, like fellow organizer Patricia Lasseter, had a mind for logistics.

"No, you've got to save people first," said Krall.

Volunteering is like the weather: unpredictable. The next morning, we had a few too many hands for our two construction sites, so a smaller sect of us was flipped from building to gutting. We were absorbed into a new crew, including a retired couple from the Mid-west, and two new crew chiefs.

As mentioned before, over 80,000 homes had still not been opened and cleaned out since the flood.

"When you go gutting, you get to see what the owner first sees when they first enter a house," explain Krall.

We were then sent to the Ninth Ward, by now notorious for its level of devastation. Gray clouds that day seemed to foreshadow the intense nature of our task.

"We do not comment on what we find in the houses," said Julie, a coordinator who laid out the ground rules.

Our new crew chiefs greeted us wearing T-shirts with a crowbar and sledgehammer in the shape of a cross. On the back was "Episcopal Hurricane Relief."

We squeezed into the rented passenger van. Minutes later, as we drove on a bridge over an industrial canal, Jake, one of the crew chiefs pointed out one of the levees which had given out. Crossing over, you could see the difference between Ninth and other areas. The traffic lights still weren't working, and municipal services were sporadic. It was one of the sections still patrolled by the National Guard.

"There's people who want to return to the Ninth Ward," said Jake. "They would put up trailers in front of their homes and live in them while they work on their houses. The problem is they only got potable water three weeks ago."

Debris was pilled high around the houses on our destination street. As we walked up a dog with a red handkerchief greeted us barking on a chain. One phone call later, and a neighbor exited in trailer and pulled him inside.

The smell of mold and wet rot greeted us as we opened up the door. We salvaged a set of stairs from a neighboring house, and set up an assembly line to begin passing out the contents in the house. Soggy family photos mingled with old clothes, and crumbling furniture. Rain started as a trickle, then began to pour. Wind soon followed, but we worked on for about an hour.

Below a pile, I found a birdcage, which still contained the remains of the owner's pets.

For the uninitiated, stepping into a gutting job for the first time is daunting. Wearing masks and gloves, you get used to the grime, but the sentimental value of some of the things inside makes you pause sometimes. lt was about as raw as anything we'd seen so far, and although it was depressing at times the best thing to do was to keep moving.

"Is this a yard sale?," joked one scavenger who came by looking for scraps.

We barely cracked a smile.

"Come on guys, where's your sense of humor?" he asked.

In the trailer a young woman pulled up at one point in a very new SUV, and it sat running in the driveway for a while. We saw other nice vehicles near some trailers, prompting a few uncomfortable questions, like were did the money for them come from, and why weren't more people out working on houses in this neighborhood.

The skies seemed to open up after a while in a monsoon like deluge. The chiefs decided to call off our gutting after a storm warning was issued. After trying to ride it out, we went back to our headquarters.

When the weather finally did break after lunch, we were off to New Orleans East to lend at hand at Joy Davis' house. It would be our group's first time at the second site. Sometimes it was a challenge to roll with the changes.

"I was under the impression that we'd get to start someplace and stay there until we finished," said volunteer Neil Goldstein the next day as fellow volunteer Marie deYoung's station wagon passed the statue of a famous civil war general on our way to gut another house in Gentilly.

"It's like the military," said de Young. "Rapid deployment. You go where you're needed."

By the end of our week, we had almost completely dry walled Joy Davis' new home, repaired the roof, and got a good start on Mike's house. The last night was emotional for Davis as she toured the home, and the group presented her with gift certificates to help her buy materials the family would need in the future. Tears and hugs abounded. There were also pledges to help finish what was started. With the assistance of Sam, Emily, Dan, and others, the projects continue. The church is considering a second trip this April.

Originally, I intended to give you a detailed account of all seven days of our trip, but that isn't going to be possible. I couldn't even introduce you to a third of the people and places.

Through these stories, however, I hope you got at least a glimpse of some of the good people, large struggles and enduring hope present in a very unique place. The story doesn't really end here.

One thing I, and all of us took away is, that there is so much more to be done.

For information on how to donate or volunteer, contact Rev. Marilee Baccich at the Unitarian Universalist Relief Project at 225-223-3203, via e-mail at uukatrina@bellsouth.net. Volunteers and funds are also needed for the dozens of other charities still working to get New Orleans and the Gulf Coast as a whole back on its feet.

Although, at times, I do put the city out of my mind during the daily grind, I won't ever forget the week I spent there and the special spirit of our group.