Brian’s house…since i was cooking for the team, I only met Brian once when he came for dinner. When we arrived in New Orleans, Brian gave our team “poetic license” as he called it. He didn’t care what we did but was anxious to have his home back. This home was Brian’s childhood home. Brian wasn’t necessarily the poorest of the poor. He could afford supplies but couldn’t afford to hire the labor and had health problems that prevented him from attempting most of the building himself.
Brian treated our folks to South Shore Bakery donuts almost everyday. Who wouldn’t want to work at Brians?
Krispy Kremes eat your heart out!
The last day our team worked at Brian’s, they gave him a key to the first locking door Brian has had since Katrina.
The only electricity he had was coming from an extension cord off the pole and water still had not been turned on, but he was moving an airbed in and sleeping there that evening. Can you imagine being displaced from your home for over 4 years? I might have slept there that night too if I were him.