I'd like everyone to meet Guillermo Olivos '05.
You may know him as Will Olivos -- he didn't go by his real name until Biloxi. After all, he was a different person at Dartmouth.
In his words: "While in college I was hedonistic, unfulfilled, a pretty big disappointment to anyone that cared about me and irresponsibly reactive. I also played too much Ship."
I first heard Guillermo's name talking to a long-term volunteer named Jacquelyn. She was sharing camp lore, the tales of a nearly legendary volunteer who'd long since moved on.
"So he just left?"
She smiled. "Everyone leaves eventually. Except Guillermo."
Guillermo graduated in June 2005 having majored in English and Psychology. His next few months were typical: He lifeguarded, landscaped, took the LSATs and applied for legal positions.
The hurricane formed in late August. Guillermo found himself apathetic towards job offers and rejections alike, but Katrina had his attention from the beginning.
"It skimmed the Florida Keys and then floated off into the Gulf of Mexico. I had no recollection of any hurricane ever doing that. It waned to a Category 1 and waxed to a Category 5 as it approached Louisiana and Mississippi."
Katrina made Gulf Coast landfall on August 29. Guillermo shared the nation's horror in the days that followed: "The Superdome was f*cked. The poor couldn't leave."
He got in contact with Janos Marton '04 and they looked into volunteering with the Red Cross, an idea they rejected upon learning of the weeks of required training. Shortly thereafter, Janos heard about an organization called Hands On USA from friends Kate Gage '05 and Carrie O'Neil '04. Apparently you could just show up and be fed and housed, no questions asked -- you've just gotta work. Perfect.
Janos and Guillermo joined Kate and Carrie in Biloxi at Hands On, beginning the steady flow of Dartmouth volunteers that has never ceased.
Right before he went to Mississippi, Guillermo blitzed a few Dartmouth friends about his plans. One was doing economic research for the federal government. She e-mailed him a link to the Red Cross donation website. Subject line: "How you can REALLY help."
She was right that money would help. But it's a damn good thing he didn't follow her advice. Will Olivos, the directionless English major drifting towards law school, evaporated in the Mississippi heat. After a year and a half, Guillermo is still there. This column is too small to describe all he's done; a very partial list follows, excerpted from his in-progress memoir.
"Gutted houses, demolded houses, shingled roofs, managed a grant, wrote a grant, conducted the largest in-field mold remediation experiment in history, collaborated with the housing authority, confused President Bush with talk of allergens and mycotoxins, bored Usher with talk of upper respiratory illness prevention, dug ditches, built a park, ran heavy machinery, fell in love, publicized borate treatment, invented a large-scale music tournament, adopted a hurricane puppy, chopped wood, drank wine on a deserted golf course."
Guillermo has three tattoos.
"GC," for Gulf Coast; "Brilliantly, Ecstatically, Irrepressibly"; and "Risk everything or gain nothing."
He's risked plenty. Although he's now transitioning into paid positions doing similar work, it goes without saying how much pay and security he's sacrificing.
But it's easy to see why he's stayed, why anyone stays. Janos told me what the early days were like. After three months of research, I can assure you it is not hyperbole.
"It was the wild west, a reckless cadre of maniacs who could leave their lives at the drop of a dime to do relief work they were completely unqualified for, in a city and region operating essentially without laws."
Biloxi's changed, but it is still intoxicating. For me, the Hands On camp recalled the words of former Major League Baseball commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti: "It is a dream of ourselves as better than we are."
So it was. Volunteers dance and sing and pay absolutely no attention to personal appearance. Days are spent outside, helping people. Everyone is always welcome. Everyone gives more than they take. Perhaps most strikingly, people actually say the things they meant to say all along, the things we most need to hear.
Carrie O'Neil '04 worked in Biloxi for fifteen months. She is every bit the hero that Guillermo is, and if this column were bigger it would have been about both of them. When she left, she said the kind of thing I'm talking about -- she said she believed in me. We'd never really talked, but I'd looked up to her all along. I was almost embarassed by how much it meant.
When Carrie left, it was the same. Brannon the long-termer told her that she had seen potential in him that he hadn't seen in himself. Guillermo said, "Carrie, I can't be me without you."
Biloxi -- long-term volunteering -- is a dream of ourselves as better than we are.
Donald Barthelme wrote, "How joyous the notion that, try as we may, we cannot do other than fail and fail absolutely and that the task will remain always before us, like a meaning for our lives."
Such is volunteering. The task is never complete, but the dedication to it is somehow all the more joyful for that. It is a meaning for our lives -- for Guillermo's life.
Service work feels good, makes you feel good about yourself, helps others and is consistent with every major religion and ethical philosophy. There is the problem of money, but Guillermo had this to say about his superiors during his pre-Biloxi stint in finance, and I cringed at the resonance with the men of Dartmouth: "They amounted to 40-year-old children with power, 'sweet dude' wonder boys hitting on young, attractive analysts. If you go into finance, stay true to yourself and make sure you keep growing up while you're looking out the windows of the Manhattan monoliths."
Or just be like Guillermo.
I find out soon about my re-admission; if all goes well, I'll see you this summer, sophomores. Thank you, everyone! I'll finish with Guillermo's advice to the Class of 2007.
"Be brave. For anyone considering entry into the non-profit world, I think critical thinking with a conscience is lacking in too many places where it should be bursting at the seams. If you feel it's your prerogative to get into this sort of work, then hop in and hop in full throttle. And never, EVER let anyone convince you that you can't make a difference. You will never go wrong by being true to yourself."
Email Alex at howeas@gmail.com
