So many memories stand out in my mind. There are the faces of people who couldn’t believe that we were there to help in any way that we could (even if what needed to be done was messy and potentially impossible).  There are their tears, when they saw what we had accomplished. The houses that stand abandoned – or lay collapsed – since Hurricane Katrina, with no funding to repair or raze them. The excitement of kids for whom MacDonald’s is a rare treat. And the town that is slowly fading away, its businesses closed for 40 years because they didn’t want to integrate. 

Before the trip, I had wondered how all this would change my outlook. Clearly it would have an impact, but I was intensely curious about what form that impact would take. Indeed, in Mendenhall, I saw more poverty and racism than I had ever seen first-hand before. So what does one do with that knowledge, after the fact?

As it turns out, the experience has already led me to deeper, more open discussions about race issues. Whether it is my new outlook, or increased trust from those around me, I have had some great converstations with African-American friends and acquaintances. We’ve talked about the differences between north and south, “then” and now, rich and poor.

I feel blessed that my friend Joanne shared a glimpse of her life’s experience with me. How she feels treated by co-workers, strangers and authority figures. How, in family’s time of need, she feels ignored by the police whose salaries are paid by her taxes. And how this treatment – at least on its face – has changed since she was a child.

Teresa told me of her family’s vacation, from her home in the north to her mother’s family in the south, when she was 12 years old. She was treated in ways she had never experienced before. And, when faced with blatant racism, she watched her mother revert to a survival tactic: a position of submissiveness. It was so distressing for Teresa that she vowed never to return. That was 22 years ago, and true to her word, she has never gone back. And now, she talks of the racism she faces today – not “in your face” racism, but there nonetheless.

Before my trip, I’m embarrassed to admit that I considered myself fairly knowledgeable about issues of race. After all, I had led my high school’s tributes to Martin Luther King Jr,, lobbying for more action on the national holiday in his honor. My best friend in hgh school, and several past boyfriends, were black. I’d been to step shows and AKA parties. And, I did spend a few years living in Detroit.

Looking back, it’s easy to see that I had approached all of these interactions as though being “colorblind” was the goal.  My objective was to move past race as though it were a non-issue. Even when my college boyfriend told me how often he was pulled over by police on the way to and from his parent’s home, I sympathized with him. But didn’t engage in more dialogue.

Now, after my recent trip, I’m intensely aware that I can never fully understand the experiences of others. But I also know that we can talk about these issues now. Where before I didn’t know how to start – or even continue – the conversation, I now feel that I can engage. I can listen. I can ask questions. And I can feel more comfortable being in this place.

My goal is no longer to move past race. My goal now is to continue learning from those around me. I have so much to learn. And when enough of us learn together, the world changes.

Our day’s plan was to split into three teams: one continuing work on The Nursery, one finishing up projects at the school, and a third traveling to the home of a local resident, Ms. Mary, to do some painting and repairs. Before getting started, though, we attended chapel with the K-12 students.

Chapel included pledges of allegiance (the flag was one of three), some songs, a short presentation from the first grade class, and recognition of students for good behavior during the week. When it came time for the high school recognition, the two high school teachers (one Math, one Language) wanted to recognize the entire high school class – about 20 students, freshmen through fifth-year seniors. One boy piped up that a trip to MacDonalds seemed like a reasonable reward; this brought a round of applause and laughter from the entire school body but was quickly dismissed by the principal.

Our group seized the opportunity: after chapel, we offered to take all the high school students to lunch at MacDonalds. This would be a unique and uncommon treat for them - none had cars and the nearest MacDonalds (or any fast food) is about a 20 minutes’ drive away. 

After a morning of hard work on our various projects, we gathered all the kids to head out for lunch. And while I could write several stories about the trip – from our car conversations to the constant thanks bestowed upon us – I’ll share just one, about a freshman named Angel.

Angel is a beautiful and quiet girl. She rarely talks and even more rarely meets anyone’s gaze. The other high school girls generally ignore her; not that they are cruel, just that they have a tight social group and Angel just isn’t a part of it. The girls do watch out for Angel and are courteous to her, but she is clearly not a part of their social circle.

Sami and I ate lunch with Angel. We found that she would answer direct questions, so shyly that we often had to ask her to repeat her answer. But, it took quite a while before she answered with more than one word or asked any questions of her own.

During our conversation, we got to know Angel as a sweet, unique girl - who is likely autistic (and evidently not diagnosed). She engages with the world around her more as an observer than a participant. Her conversation topics are like those of a young child… favorite colors and cartoons. Her past includes some tumultuous experiences at her previous school – prompting her recent transfer to this new one.

Since our lunch, I can’t stop thinking about Angel… How she will fare at this new school. If she is safe. Whether she ever has, or ever will, receive the educational support she needs. And, what would happen if someone could connect with her enough to make a real difference in her life.

Now I find that my eyes are very open to the Angels I see around me. Those fragile ones whose chins tilt toward the floor, who hold their shoulders in, as though to protect themselves, and who may well be victims – of one kind or another – throughout their lives.

I’m not sure how or whether I can reverse the trend in their futures. But I can say hello. I can smile. I can hold them in my prayers. And I can notice that they are there.

Because I’m sure those things make a difference.

Today was our first day in Mendenhall with our full team of nine volunteers. Four people continued (and completed!) work on sealing the deck, while I led a team of five in cleanup of The Nursery.

The Nursery building had been damaged three years ago, as Katrina ripped off a large portion of its roof. The town had been evacuated prior to the hurricane, so upon their return, the staff found a building that had been flooded for three weeks. It took three years for the team to raise money, fix the roof, and do their best to repair the interior. Now, a stench of sewer gas still permeates the building and it has never been thoroughly cleaned.

Meanwhile, the K-12 school building is overcrowded, with its population approaching the legal limit for the facility. So it’s imperative to find an additional space for some of the school’s students, and the Nursery holds promise – IF it’s ready.

So our team had a lot of work ahead: we needed to scrub down bathrooms, walls and furniture, mop floors, paint a few walls, and air out the entire building. It would take all five of us, and it would take likely more than one day to complete.

Throughout the day, half of our team of teenage girls worked very hard. The other half, well, didn’t. They worked a bit, in between breaks, snacks, headaches, drinks of water, and hair emergencies. I became increasingly annoyed with them throughout the afternoon, making up my mind on which girls I preferred and which ones I would prefer to avoid.

In the evening, we were invited to spend the evening at the home of a local resident. After dinner, we drove to the home of Sharon and Gerhard, a retired couple who spend half of each year in Berlin, Germany, and the other half in Mississippi. Sharon, an African American woman from Philadelphia, met Gerhard, an accountant from Germany, while volunteering in Mendenhall in 1972. They have spent the last 36 years together, living around the world – in France, Tanzania, Rwanda, among other countries.

I was completely enthralled with Sharon and Gerhard. Questions flowed to my mind faster than I could ask them – and certainly faster than they could be answered.

But, this couple had a plan. Their intent was to learn about us, not answer our questions. Sharon and Gerhard led the conversation, taking time for each of the volunteers to describe why they came to Mendenhall, their impressions to date and a little about themselves personally. Some of the girls remained irreverant and self-absorbed, but I learned more about them in 90 minutes than I had in the last 24 hours of working with them side by side.

And so, I felt guilty. Convicted. These girls, whom I had written off for their lazy work habits, were on the same journey of self-discovery as I was. They had taken this trip to make a difference in the world, just like me. But I was oblivious to them. All it took to learn about these girls was curiosity and time.

This realization hit me hard. I was struck by how different each of us are, how our perspectives all have value, and how it takes each of us to make up this world. The world is not a place – it is a collection of people. A mosaic, that takes each of us to complete.

All it takes is the willingness to engage.

It was good to work in the fresh air, chatting with the people here in town and enjoying the Mississippi heat. In the afternoon, the rest of our team from Minnesota arrived, so we’re now a group of nine. 

In the evening, we all went to Wednesday night service at Mendenhall Bible Church. I hadn’t been in the church building before, and was taken aback when I saw it: it was beautiful! Care is clearly taken to make this building all that it can be.

Compared to any other Mendenhall building – the school, offices, rec center, etc – it was far and away in the best condition. There were no cracked ceilings, dented walls, chipped paint or even smudges on any surface. Clearly this is the building that takes priority over anything else that needs attention in this organization.

Now, one could argue whether this is an appropriate allocation of resources. However, I think the greater lesson here is what’s possible when an entire community – any community – comes together and agrees to make one thing the best it can be. I’m sure there have been arguments and spirited discussions along the way but, even with the severely limited resources available, this group has managed to build and maintain an immaculate church. Inside this building, it’s easy to forget that I’m not in Edina, MN, or Pasadena, CA.

So once again, I’m witness to the power that comes from a group of people, aligned toward a common vision. A vision that was clear from its beginning, and its clarity remains over time.

When a community bands together like this -whether driven by one visionary leader or a collaboration of many – the impossible becomes possible. Our power truly multiples when we stand strong around one vision. 

Imagine what that could mean to our department, our company, our world. Suddenly, overwhelming challenges seem within our reach. Problems seems addressable. Goals seem attainable. 

Because we no longer have subversive behavior. We no longer watch from the sidelines. We can all participate because there is no fear – the goal is clear and we know how each of us can contribute. 

And then, the impossible may not be so far beyond us.

After two days’ work, these rooms are now useable. The Arts & Crafts Supply Room even has enough room for a full suite of office supplies (previously mixed in elsewhere). The Teacher Resource Room actually has useable resources in it – outdated books removed, materials organized by subject, and a clear floor by which to reach them.

It is clear that, like in the neighborhood homes here, the school has a strong aversion to throwing anything away. It seems every square inch has something in it – sometimes treasure, sometimes trash – but no one wants to toss any of it.

In the afternoon, we searched, in vain, for tools that would make the job easier – a hand truck, shelving units, some labels. Each time, we were met with an alternate cost-neutral suggestion: ‘we got boys from the basketball team, they’ll help.’ Or ‘You don’t need to buy shelves, Mr. Jackson over here can build some for you.’ 

Then it dawned on me: The people here consider very carefully ANY money they spend. Of course they don’t throw away possessions  lightly – whatever it is, it was once a perfectly good one! It took money and/ or sweat to bring it here, so surely we can find a use for it. Somewhere. 

This realization hit me all at once, in stark contrast to my everyday life. In my world, everything is disposable. Don’t like this? Too old? Get a new one. Even as I write this, it sounds cliché… But it really is a fundamentally different mentality.  

Here in Mendenhall, each item is truly the owner’s possession, no matter its condition. Broken items are used until every last bit of utility is worn away. (To make repairs, we often have to fix the tools themselves first.)
The idea of buying new tools is silly – these here still work… mostly. 

I wonder about the so-called Digital Divide. With forces like Moore’s Law, how will a society like this one manage? Their world does not accommodate new models every X months… They are looking for their property to last generations.  Their whole society assumes that this is possible. And yet, technology marches, faster and faster, with no intention of providing products to meet this town’s needs.

At the same time, ‘green’ is an utterly foreign concept here. While I’m working hard to reduce-reuse-recycle in my own life, this community already uses the bare minimum and reuses to a fault. How can I fault them for not recycling?  Again, completely different mindset.

I can’t help but think that the world rushing onward, with Mendenhall catching its dust. How can the families avoid falling so far behind that their children won’t be able to make a living? What responsibility do we, as individuals and companies, have to bridge the gap? 

If we do nothing, it seems that we are contributing to the delinquency of a society. If we do something, what exactly would that be?

Our pre-8am workday started slowly, as we completed small odd jobs at the school and administrative offices. New carpets were installed last week, so our job was to move furniture back into the rooms and set up a few PCs. (Yeah, I can TOTALLY do that!). 

Then we organized some supplies and did some minor repairs here and there. We learned quickly that our hosts are busy people, too busy to babysit us! So if we want to really make a difference, we needed to identify a job to do, and after a quick consult with our Mendenhall friends, jump in and get it done. 

For lunch we ate red beans and rice with the kids at the school. It was satisfying but clearly meant for sustenance, not fine dining.  A good thing, as our meal was cut short when we were asked for more PC help at the pastor’s house. Word had spread that we knew about computers. 

So we tried to help email photos – 130MB worth – to the pastor’s daughter, who is serving in Iraq. We certainly didn’t have a magic solution for transferring such a huge file set using only webmail. (They resisted our recommendation for online sharing). So, multiple emails were our only option. It took quite awhile, but we kept entertained with a two year old hugging and climbing on us. 

In the afternoon, it was back to the school for more supply room organization projects. No one here really has time to figure out a good system for managing everything – pre-K through 12th grade – so we saw first hand how temporary solutions really lack long-term usefulness.

The conditions here are almost unbelieveable. Three years after Katrina, there are still abandoned homes overgrown with weeds. Buildings without roofs. Buildings with temporary plastic roof coverings, which people nonetheless call their homes. 

One of the Mendenhall buildings damaged by the 2005 hurricane has finally been repaired. But years of no water hookup, coupled with a sealed up building (lest it become a drug haven), have cause sewer odor to permeate. Without fresh air, this beautiful large daycare facility goes unused.

Looking back on today, I can’t help but notice how technology plays a role even in this poorest of towns. We saw four PCs, and fewer than four people who knew how to use them. These PCs were performing vital tasks and clearly were heralded for the value they brought, yet each one held much more power than their human counterparts knew.

A large sign outside the youth center said ABSOLUTELY NO CELL PHONES. I was surprised, but maybe shouldn’t have been. Prepaid phones are available to all. Mobile phones are ubiquitous. Even these families, with so little, make the investment.

We also saw the ever-present issue of electronic waste. There were old pcs and tvs that can’t be thrown out (’least that’s what we been told’) but have outlived their usefulness. With no good options for disposal. So they sit, taking up room in the cafeteria, principal’s office, supply closet – in any corner where they can be shoehorned.

And throughout the day, I used my online network (thanks Tweeple!) to find answers and get advice, nearly instantaneously. 

Technology truly is a facet of all our lives. So today – more than ever – I believe that what I do makes a difference. Not just right now, as I help debug a PC in a rundown office building, but every day that I help bring people closer to the technology that can improve their lives.

It’s very early on Sunday, the day that Sami (14) and I leave for Mendenhall, Mississippi. We’ll be spending a week volunteering at the Mendenhall Mission, which includes a school and church that ministers to the rural poor in the area. We leave for the airport in about three hours.

In addition to about a thousand other things running through my mind right now, this has me thinking about how many people at Best Buy give their time and energy to making their communities better. There are tens of thousands. Last weekend in Denver, 268 employees participated in their local Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Next week, upon my return from Mississippi, I’ll be painting a local women’s shelter along with my WOLF pack. These stories have been replicated across the nation, as the passion of our employees benefits the world around them.

And yes, the company donates millions of dollars to charitable organizations in honor of these employees’ efforts. But I think the real story is about the energy, passion and hours that our people dedicate to these causes. Not to one singular cause, or one short-lived campaign, but on a daily basis. Not due to a company-wide mandate to make it happen. The work is conceived, planned, and carried out locally, driven by anyone in the organization who wants to do it. Multiply this a thousand-fold and you start to get an idea of the enormity of this impact.

Of course, this creates a challenge as we strive to tell the world about what we’re doing. It’s easier to get attention when we present a giant cardboard check to some organization in need. It’s harder to demonstrate the hours, the sweat, and the love of 100,000 individuals. So far, this challenge hasn’t stopped us. 

My hope is that we embrace the challenge. That we stop trying to use the easy metrics to gauge our success. That we stop talking dollars and start talking hours. That our pictures and our smiles replace our statements of pre-tax earnings and corporate giving.

Because our stories are stronger than the checks that accompany them. These stories deserve to be told. Even if that’s not easy.