I didn’t think memories from 10 years ago would be so vivid, but they have been rolling in like waves for the last few days as I have heard the conversations around me & watched the news & specials on t.v. The answer to that question (where were you?) is that I had just moved to Rochester, NY from Seattle 3 weeks prior. In fact, I arrived in Rochester on the morning of my 23rd birthday after driving cross-country with my dad in a packed-out ’83 BMW 320i. I was living in a strange house with strange roommates (they were fine, just strangers to me at the time), and I watched the events unfold by myself on an old t.v. in this little old house with threadbare carpet. What a shock. All day I took phone calls from my friends & family who were worried & wondering about me, thinking Rochester was closer to NYC than it is.
I remember the oddest things. Like that stupid t.v. that was seriously from 1970 & had no remote. I had to sit close so that I could reach up & turn between the 3 channels with the big plastic, silver dial. At some point in the late afternoon, just to tear myself from the t.v. , I got up & went to Wal-mart to wander around with the 50 other numb people who didn’t know what else to do. I remember the store elevator music very clearly playing overhead–at once annoying & comforting.
I had moved to do a master of social work at Roberts Wesleyan. It was my next great adventure–moving East. I didn’t mind that I was moving without knowing anyone. I was excited for the unknown, unexpected possibilities. I just didn’t expect the unexpected to be the attacks of 9-11. Suddenly I did not feel adventurous & courageous but scared & very lonely in the vast chasm of the East Coast. I wasn’t sure how I would get through the semester, but I figured I’d scrape by and go home at Christmas & not come back.
Gratefully, there were a few more unexpected things that semester. The Salvation Army tapped into our pool of social work students at RWC, and I joined a team in late October to go to NYC to help with the relief efforts. Somehow getting to go do something snapped me out of my own numb depression.
I saw Ground Zero and served meals to the crews who were by now (end of Oct) working on the clean-up efforts. I can remember standing with a tall, young construction worker outside of the meal tent at night looking at the scene at Ground Zero illuminated by giant flood lights. For 6 weeks, this guy had been working double-shifts 6 days a week with his own regular construction work & then taking the train from Long Island to help with clean-up at night. He said he didn’t like to be by himself in his apartment. I understood. I didn’t either & I lived hundreds of miles away.
I worked at Pier 94 where all the major emergency service agencies like FEMA, Red Cross, & The Salvation Army were set up to provide assistance & case management for the thousands who had lost jobs, homes, & loved ones. There are a lot of faces of people that I met that I can see in my mind’s eye now. One man I’ll never forgot was a tall, thin Vietnamese man who lost his job working in the garment district–one of the many hidden workers you’d never know or see living & working in New York. Somehow in our interaction, I “saw” for the first time the depth of fear and loneliness and the impact of this tragedy on so many individuals & families. What could I really do to help this man? I could give a puny amount of financial assistance, but what would that really do to heal the deeper wounds? When we separated I squeezed his hand & smiled & prayed silently with all my might that God would meet him in a miraculous way.
Those are some memories. I also remember the subway ride & the long walk from the last working stop to Pier 94. I remember the dining area at Pier 94 being like a big college cafeteria with loud chatter & boisterous laughter from workers trying to de-stress between long stretches of relief work. I remember our little, square hotel room at the Pennsylvania, my roommate Jessie, and late-night pizza runs. I remember the little golf cart ride with our first views of Ground Zero and seeing in person the steel beams that had fallen in the shape of a cross.
The Yankees were playing in the World Series the week I was there, and it seemed the entire city was eager to turn their attention away from Ground Zero to Yankee Stadium. New York was just beginning the long healing process, and being in the city impacted my own healing process. When I look back, I’m grateful for the experiences & stories now, and I pray that those who were more directly impacted have found healing and peace 10 years later.
Then Jarred & Ben W brought the battle of the beards
The ladies, Grace & Katie, wowed the crowd with pretty pours
Aaron & Beth proved audience members could play too
Beth & Johanna squared off to represent Roc’s independent coffee shops
…It’s a Snow Day in good ol’ Western NY so I’m going to cuddle up to read my new awesome book about the History of Coffee: Uncommon Grounds. It’s a safe bet you’ll be hearing more in posts to come…
