For a couple of years, I have assisted with local disasters as a mental health volunteer with the American Red Cross. Little did I think that I would one day be called to help with a cataclysmic terrorist attack like the one on the World Trade Center on Sept. 11.
It was with great trepidation that I boarded a train for New York City. For someone who gets lost running local errands, I managed to get to Brooklyn and present myself at the Red Cross headquarters. Because of my experience with families and children, I was placed at the Family Assistance Center at Pier 94 in midtown Manhattan.
There, city officials had erected a temporary structure about the size of two football fields. They curtained off small areas so that all the agencies whose services families would need had a space for a storefront-like operation -- all under one roof. There were charitable agencies such as the Red Cross, Catholic Charities, the Salvation Army and a Buddhist foundation. There were state and federal agencies like the New York State Crime Victims' Compensation Board, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), Social Security Administration, U.S. Attorney's office, Department of Justice, FBI, the Immigration and Naturalization Service, the Department of Labor, Workers' Compensation, and so on.
Free childcare was provided, and there were cafeterias for staff and families. Interpreters were available for many languages; I was drafted to translate for some people who came from Southeast Asia.
It was truly inspiring to see the number of people who came to volunteer. I met people from Alaska, Hawaii, Guam, Saipan and, of course, New York City itself. There were lawyers to help people establish the death of their loved one and assist them in obtaining death certificates; there were students from AmeriCorps to assist with financial aid applications. So many people came together to counter the evil that had been perpetrated.
I was interviewed for a Japanese TV show about why teddy bears and other stuffed animals were being given to people at a time like this. I introduced them to a seven-year-old boy whose dad was a security guard at the WTC and had been badly burned. His mom told me that he had named the bear after his dad, and he took the bear everywhere and slept with him. He could not take care of his dad, but he could take care of the bear.
The stories I heard were no different from the stories everyone has heard on TV. But instead of hearing them through the filter of an anchor and the remoteness of a TV screen, I saw the faces of pain and suffering up close and clear: the disbelief of a wife whose husband called to reassure her that he was okay and was on his way out of the burning building but was never heard from again...the stories of people who had survived and felt guilty for it...a man who could only tell me his story by first making an elaborate drawing of the buildings and the sub-structure.
One of the curtained areas was a memory wall where families had left messages for their loved ones. I will never forget the picture of a child and parent in a golf-cart. Underneath it was scrawled in childish script: "This is my dad. Have you seen him?"
One of the hardest things I had to do was accompany family members on the boat trips from Pier 94 to Ground Zero. The mental health workers were asked to "adopt" a family for each trip. This was the first opportunity for families to see the disaster up close. Viewing the massive pile of ruins, which was still smoking and surrounded by twisted girders, was surreal.
Seeing that brought home to the families that there was slim chance of recovering any bodies, much less of finding anyone alive. From there, we went to a small memorial site where families could leave the flowers and bears that they were given at the beginning of the boat trip.
One mother I was with asked me if she could keep the bear I gave her. It was all she had to verify that she had indeed visited the massive grave where her only son was buried.
Carl Jung said that the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light for those around us. I witnessed many lights that were kindled in that great darkness of the World Trade Center tragedy. I was grateful for the abundance of this country and the generosity of spirit people had demonstrated to cushion the pain of those affected.
At the same time, my thoughts turned to the people of Afghanistan who also suffer: the children who have had their limbs torn off as they pick up bomblets that they mistake for food that has been air dropped, and the families whose humble homes have been destroyed and who have been forced to flee.
I pray that we can find a meaningful way to alleviate their suffering, too.
(Editor's note: Theresa Rodrigues is a member of the Albany diocesan Commission on Peace and Justice. She attends St. Thomas the Apostle parish in Delmar. Donations for Afghani refugees may be sent to Catholic Relief Services, c/o Catholic Charities, 40 N. Main Ave., Albany NY 12203.)