I remember being at work at Jordans Restaurant when the first plane hit. Moments later the radio broadcast that a second had hit the Trade Centers. Most of my memories start Dec 2 when I arrived in NYC to work for 3 works. I was already in the Red Cross in disaster services here & was offered the chance to go. It would take too long to write about the whole time. But some are: the smell. It smelt like a really bad barbecue. You went to bed at night reeking of that odor. The kiosks set up everywhere with the photos of those missing. Friends & families knew the reality of where these people were but it`s what they had to do to survive. The memorial set up by the church used as a respite center for the workers. All kinds of mementos by the fence. The hardest to look at were the infant & baby clothes & shoes. Watching an ambulance slowly make its way from Ground Zero, the sides lined with the workers with hats off & you knew who was in it. The constant smoke at Ground Zero. 3 months later and it was still burning. Watching the long dump trucks heading to Fresh Kills dump site and realizing there were human remains in them. People would always stop in silence when these trucks passed. Meeting with the people in need of aid. The older couple with the bedridden man and his blind wife. His bedroom had a picture window that looked out at the Trade Centers. He told of his wife asking what was going on and having witnessed the 2nd plane hit, thinking they were about to die he asked his wife to lie down beside him as he just wanted company. She never knew until days later what had happened. Delivering air filters. Meeting with people who needed window screens replaced or cleaned. One lady had a cat that she said still was traumatized and freaked at noises. The day I answered the phone and fielded a suicide call. Trying to keep the woman on the line until she could be patched through to mental health services, trying to understand why she had spent the last 3 months in her cellar, afraid to come out and not wanting to live that way anymore. Walking past stores blocks away and seeing boarded up doors and windows-some damaged beyond repair. Returning to headquarters in the evening drained from another day we were never meant to experience. Walking by a bridge with cars piled high never to be claimed. Walking by a fire station with a pair of boots, coat & helmet on the sidewalk. Reality.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 14:57:10 +0000
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