The most expensive box of chocolate chip cookies I have ever encountered was inside a general store located in the middle of nowhere in Alaska.

My parents and I had joined family friends from Germany for two weeks of camping during a summer in the mid-1990s. We stopped at a general store to top off the gas tanks because there was no way of knowing when the next gas station would appear.

There is a reason Alaska is often called the last great frontier.

For every populous area such as Anchorage, there are miles and miles of highway with little development packed around mountains and gorgeous scenery.

Travel conveniences became a simple question — how badly do you really want it?

Klaus, who lived with my family for a year in high school, picked up the box of chocolate chip cookies. It couldn’t have been half the size of the regular box store shelves in other areas of the United States.

Klaus put the cookies back when he saw the price tag: one small box of chocolate chips for $3.65.

This incident is an example of the haves and havenots that exist in out-of-the-way places in this country. Hurricane Katrina has turned areas of Louisiana and Mississippi into a wasteland.

“Everything is broken.”

This was the comment of my 3-year-old niece Jenny as my family prepared to depart Louisiana.

Instead of skiing or a post-holiday trip to Disneyland, my family joined more than 90 people from Clemson United Methodist Church to help with rebuilding efforts along the Gulf Coast.

The volunteer group spanned several generations, from college students and working adults to grandparents working side by side, to assist Louisiana residents with cleaning up their homes after the Christmas holidays. This cleanup effort was far different from the tasks of picking up loose wrapping paper and boxes to stuff in trash bags one can imagine happening in Gulf Coast homes on past Christmas mornings.

The volunteers spent their days on chain saw crews cutting down trees and gutting houses destroyed by Hurricane Katrina so people just like them could begin the difficult task of restoring their lives. It is difficult to imagine sorting through someone else’s possessions and tearing out the walls after their homes were ripped apart in the hurricane.

Guilt sets in when I compare these images with the wonderful Christmas holiday I just enjoyed.

I’m sitting here collecting these thoughts on a computer while sipping Russian tea (Tang mixed with tea), wearing new clothes and enjoying gifts like an iPod. This technology gadget holds enough memory so I can listen to music for 35 days without ever listening to the same song twice.

Meanwhile, some residents in Louisiana must get help with cutting down trees just so they can decide whether to rebuild their homes or start their lives over somewhere else.

Similar stories will continue to emerge from Louisiana and Mississippi over the next couple of years.

Some will impact Cherokee County locally in the faces of new students, and possibly even new teachers from Louisiana and Mississippi applying for teaching jobs in our schools.

There will be displaced residents returning to settle in rebuilt homes in New Orleans, content to tempt fate in the only home they have ever known.

Yet we still underestimate the power of disasters to remind us about the many blessings we take for granted.

Why do we only think about having a roof over our heads when there is an ice storm or other disaster that temporarily disrupts life? How would we manage without being able to take hot showers or the cup of coffee brewing on automatic timer in our coffee pot while we sleep?

Perhaps the answer is we really can learn to manage any situation with each other’s help.

(Scott Powell covers education issues for The Gaffney Ledger. You can contact him via e-mail at spowell@gaffneyledger.com)