I MET JESSE AT THE 17TH STREET CANAL A WEEK AFTER HURRICANE KATRINA HIT. Jesse was looking awfully down. She had managed to rescue her dog Scotty from her home located in the flooded section of New Orleans. She didn't have much else, just $17 and one change of clothes.

Jesse felt invisible. No one seemed to notice her or pay her any attention. She was not faring well in locating any assistance. She had not managed to connect with anyone from the Red Cross. And although she had managed to get in touch with FEMA, they had been no help. Her bank was closed, as were all other businesses in the area. And Jesse was worried sick about her house.

I offered to help this sweet lady, but she refused. “I'm proud,” Jesse told me. “I've never taken a handout in my life, and I won't take one now.”

Jesse had worked hard all her life at a local bank and had always been independent. This slight woman of 83 years was tough and set in her ways, so I resorted to a different tactic. “Jesse, would you let me loan you enough money to tide you over until your bank opens?” She agreed, but only after getting my address and phone number and informing me, “You will hear from Jesse Hofstetter.”

When I returned home to Kansas City, I received a letter from Jesse. Opening the envelope, I found the reimbursement along with a handwritten note.

My dear savior, Rick.

I'm still not at my home in New Orleans. There is no electricity, no gas, no sewerage and my house smells like rotten eggs. I know because I sneaked back to my home by the river road. I'm lucky to have my sister to stay with. I'd rather die than go in a shelter. I still can't get back into my house. I know the back door lock is broken. God, I hope no one has looted my house. I really don't know where to start. I need to call electricians, plumbers, etc. I still need to get tetanus and hepatitis A and B shots before entering the city.

I thank you so very much for the loan. I will never forget your kindness. Please say a prayer that I find things in good shape at home. You are a kind and thoughtful person.

Thanks again, Jesse Hofstetter.

Jesse included her sister's phone number in the note, so I gave her a call. Jesse informed me she still couldn't get into her home, but I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was on the mend. Jesse was getting her spunk back.

GIVING IS THE TONIC THAT HEALS

Becky Montgomery puts it this way: “All we can really offer anyone is hope.” Becky is so right. In a crisis, we want to know that someone out there cares and will be there for us.

Becky knows firsthand the power of giving. Her storm-duty responsibility at Mississippi Power was in Family Services, where she organized an initiative for employees to assist fellow co-workers affected by Katrina. Employee volunteers and their families could be found placing tarps on roofs, shoveling muck and moving furniture. This freed up affected employees so they could focus on restoring power. Employees from sister utility Georgia Power not only donated a tractor-trailer full of tarps, 50 folks came down to install the tarps on roofs. At one time, 160 volunteers were actively providing assistance.

I was in the Family Services trailer when an employee walked in with this request: “My ex-wife and kids were wiped out and have nothing. What can you do?” Company volunteers gathered up boxes of supplies, including soap, toothbrushes, water, wipes, sanitizer, aspirin and peroxide. Most of the supplies had been donated by co-workers. This man also received air mattresses, blankets, pillows, towels and a case of self-heating, ready-to-eat meals.

Becky informed me that her personal life had not been going well either. In fact, her home in Pass Christian, Mississippi, had been demolished by the storm. She drove me over to her property located one block off the beach. Her home had been reduced to a few columns of brick. Water bubbled up out of a broken pipe where the bathroom once stood.

We searched to see if we could find any photos of Becky's daughters, but all we found was a coffee cup and a silver pie server. Her car also had been washed away in the surge and was likely buried under some immense debris pile. Oddly enough, neither of us shed a tear. Under crisis situations, emotions are strange creatures that flare up and fade away, seemingly independent of circumstance. Later though, Becky broke down after a highly frustrating and unsuccessful encounter with FEMA. I was at a loss for anything to say and so remained mute.

Becky and her family have managed to rent an apartment she located through a local church. I later found out that FEMA had finally come through with $2000 in emergency funds and some financial assistance for temporary housing. Becky has flood insurance, but it is not enough to pay off her mortgage, and dealing with her home insurance company has been an ordeal.

FRIENDS HELPING FRIENDS

Throughout my travels in Mississippi and Louisiana, I was constantly struck by the compassion of individuals and the churches. I never saw the Red Cross or FEMA, but the churches opened their doors, their hearts, their time and their pocketbooks. On just about every main street, you'd see folding tables in front of churches with parishioners handing out clothing, household cleaning goods and nonperishable foods. I was awed by the outpouring of love and generosity of individuals who “just had to do something.”

In Slidell, Louisiana, a teenager was driving through neighborhoods delivering hot meals cooked by members of his church. Both the giving and the receiving were color blind, quite unlike the images portrayed by our national press.

Here is but one example. A commotion was going on at Greater Mount Olive Baptist Church, the largest African-American church on the Gulf Coast, with members and friends handing out clothing and supplies. This community was about family, with brother reaching out to brother and sister reaching out to sister.

One congregation member, Denita Williams, told me her story: “I prayed to God out loud, ‘If you want me to do something, give me a sign.’ I wanted to help people in need but was simply overwhelmed. I knew my prayer was answered when my husband, Steve, who works with Mississippi Power, called and told me that one of his business associates [Jason Pollard] had four tractor-trailer loads of supplies.”

Jason, who works for Southwire in Carrolton, Georgia, had mobilized fellow co-workers and fellow citizens to raise enough money to purchase the emergency supplies and was looking for a way to distribute them.

Diane, a lady who was on the receiving end of this outpouring of generosity, told me her story, “My mom, dad and their friends need help but can't get out, so I am collecting for them and for the elderly people in their neighborhood.” Again, friends helping friends.

I ran into Bob Johnson, a leader with Boy Scout Troop 118. Bob drove down from Illinois with a trailer full of supplies. He had called his customers and told them if they didn't donate, he wouldn't be working with them any more. Bob collected $3500 and added $1000 from his own pocket and drove down to the area expecting that someone could use what he had collected. He guessed correctly and changed lives in the process.

DELIVERING HOPE

The generosity in Carrolton is not over. Southwire employees are now partnering with a Carrolton charitable organization to seek donations from local businesses to provide toys to Waveland, a coastal city in Mississippi that was particularly hard hit by Katrina. Even today, some of Waveland's 7000 citizens are still living in tents or trailers, and their children are attending school in large tents.

Why has our industry responded to this catastrophe with such an outpouring of assistance? Because we truly understand what Becky Montgomery stated so eloquently: “We deliver more than electricity, we deliver the message that we care. We deliver hope.”