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October
8, 2001
My
friend, Diane, and I volunteered at a Salvation Army canteen in
New York City on Sunday. We had to first meet at the Salvation Army
headquarters in Union, NJ. Upon receiving our picture IDs (security
being very tight), we piled into a van with a 3rd volunteer, Lori,
and 3 Salvation Army chaplains. Before pulling out of the parking
lot, we shared a prayer about forgiveness, thankfulness and protection,
reminding us why were were there. We made our way to the Lincoln
Tunnel, where there was a NY state trooper or police officer at
each toll booth checking every vehicle. It was a little startling
to see the skyline on a bright, crisp sunny day without the twin
towers. All of the buildings seemed so much shorter and serve as
a reminder that things have changed forever.
Making our way to the east side of Manhattan, I glanced down Broadway
and could see several cranes in the distance. It was obvious to
me what they were there for. The canteen where we would spend the
next 12 hours (noon to midnight) was located on 1st Avenue at 29th
Street at the Medical Examiner's office, one block north of Bellevue
Hospital. Yes, that was the morgue. There are a series of tents
positioned on the sidewalk of 1st Avenue between 28th and 29th Streets.
It extends the entire city block and houses every kind of supply
you could imagine....clothing, toiletries, beverages, food, and
inspirational pamphlets and books. In the center of the tents was
a canteen truck, which provided kitchen facilities -- hot coffee,
hot chocolate and soup, among many other things. The walls of the
tents are lined with posters, cards and letters from people (especially
children) from everywhere, thanking the rescue workers for their
untiring efforts during this time. The most common phrase I saw
was "God Bless America"...on the posters, spray painted
on plywood, basically anywhere there was space to write. There was
no question that God was with us.
While Lori worked with a chaplain in the truck, Diane and I were
stationed at the hot food line, doling out servings of the current
menu to anyone who came. The food was purchased by the Salvation
Army from a catering company, who provided their own staff. Our
chef (Rick) took charge of heating the large trays of food in large
propane ovens. We established a smooth rhythm, making sure Rick
was kept up to date with pending shortages. We surely kept him hopping.
We were also on sterno patrol, making sure the food stayed hot,
and I think I lit more sternos yesterday than I have in my entire
life.
We serviced mainly law enforcement, rescue, and medical examiner
staff. We met many NYPD officers, FBI, and pathologists, who were
extremely polite and nice to us. We were constantly thanked and
praised for just being there. "God bless you" was heard
quite frequently. Before the day began, our Salvation Army Chaplains
reminded us to smile. To be honest, I was so happy to be there and
personally express my appreciation to these people that it was easy
to smile. They are all doing a job for the past month that has been
gruesome and depressing. We represented a place for them to get
away from the sadness. There were a few that were almost too tired
to smile, but they were always grateful. The atmosphere was light,
with many joking around and teasing each other about how much weight
they were gaining from all of this great food. Several times, people
came by with food. One woman brought a huge soda bread, freshly
baked. Another brought a tray of lasagna. Another brought chili.
Each grateful that they were able to do something.
Only three times during our shift did the smiles disappear. It was
during those times that bodies were recovered and brought to the
morgue at our location. For the first two, I was quite busy and
didn't have time to realize the enormity of what I was witnessing.
The third time was somewhat different. We were in the middle of
a lull when we heard sirens blaring. In New York, sirens are quite
common, so we didn't realize at first what it was. Then I saw the
NYPD officers who were eating their food near a patrol car at the
curb in front of us. They all put down their plates and watched
what was coming. I walked out to the curb and watched several policemen
on motorcycles leading a motorcade ending with an FDNY ambulance.
When I glanced at the patrolmen standing next to me, I saw they
were all saluting. It was suddenly very quiet as tears filled my
eyes. The motorcade turned the corner at the edge of our tent and
everyone available gathered in silence and watched while the body
was removed from the ambulance and brought into the morgue. There
were many people standing between me and the ambulance so that I
didn't actually see what they were unloading, but the emotion was
overwhelming. At this point, I was standing next to one of the Salvation
Army Chaplains, who noticed I had tears running down my face. We
made eye contact and he whispered, "It always gets quiet."
Suddenly, my aching feet didn't ache so much anymore.
At one point during the day, I took a walk down to Bellevue and
spent some time reading what is now known as the "Wall of Prayer".
This is where families have placed pictures of their missing loved
ones with information on how to contact them. It is quiet here,
broken only by the sounds of cars and sirens, while people just
walk along the wall and look at the happy faces of each person lost.
One picture that struck me most was that of a young couple holding
a baby. There were married and both were lost in the Trade Center.
I wondered if that baby is their child and if he is now an orphan.
During the day, we heard about the bombings in Afghanistan and a
rumor about the possibility of a city lock-down, which would mean
that we would be there much longer than expected. The lock-down
never materialized and we were able to end our shift on time, once
our replacements arrived. When it came time to leave, I was sad.
I had bonded with these people in a manner that I never expected.
I knew I was helping them and, although I was leaving them in excellent
hands, I felt I was abandoning them. Here it was almost midnight
and I didn't want to go home.
The point of telling you all about this is to let you know that
your donations are making a difference in the lives of these people.
They couldn't do their jobs if it weren't for the money and materials
donated to this effort. You are all appreciated and thanked immensely
by every one of them. In the end, many of the families who lost
their loved ones are now able to have some closure and live on in
tribute to their lost one.
Thank you from everyone I met yesterday.
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Never
Forget
9-11-01
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