Friday, September 10, 2021

Seizing the Moment: Lessons Learned in the Wake of Unspeakable Tragedy

 New York City—American Red Cross, November, 2001

            In November of 2001, I went down to NYC as a volunteer for the American Red Cross. How to describe the NYC experience other than to say it was interesting and intense? That latter two are the polite and short answers, but there is more.

I am glad I went and I feel it was right, for whatever reason, for me to be there. The guys I worked with were great and taught me a lot as we laughed together, a really great team. It showed me how good a working relationship could be.

While I was in New York City, I spent most of my time assisting the Logistics Officer in Headquarters for DR 848, which is the disaster number for American Airlines Flight 587, the plane that crashed into the Queens neighborhood on November 12, 2001. I wrote reports, figured out their compute system, ordered and tracked supplies and cars, and made phone calls to city officials. At one point we left headquarters to provide assistance during the prayer service for the victim’s families. It felt good to be given the chance to reach out and help the people affected.  It gave me the opportunity to fill the classic Red Cross role of putting blankets around their shoulders and giving them food.

While we were in NYC we received full access badges to Ground “Hero,” which is what people in New York call the site of the World Trade Center. I went twice, the second time getting right to the edge of the pit. One guy called it looking into the jaws of hell. The enormity of the destruction is incomprehensible, much different from what you see on TV (which makes it all look like just another movie set). I visited a little church just across the street that somehow survived the towers collapse with not a touch of damage (the “miracle” church). The inside of the church was almost completely covered with drawings and messages from people. The extent and amount of the outpouring of people's expressions is as enormous and as difficult to assimilate as the extent of the evil witnessed in the damage outside.  The juxtaposition of the two is very thought provoking. I'm not sure I've quite processed it all yet. Nor do I think the fireman I talked with have processed it either. They seemed shell-shocked. The hardest job must have been the ambulance person, standing at attention next to her stretcher. Do you hope for a recovery, to be busy and involved, or do you not hope because that means another life lost will bring sorrow to their family? How difficult to just stand by and wait.

            Meanwhile, outside the church was a quiet little cemetery full of headstones and trees. The trees’ branches still hold trash from the collapse. The stones are so old (from 1700s) you cannot read many of the names. As you look across that restful patch of ground in the midst of the hustle of the city, you find yourself looking at a spot lit backdrop of massive twists of steel and cement being demolished by construction crews. Both people and machines look minuscule in comparisons to the enormous piles they are working on removing.

And you know that most of the people under the stones died quietly in their beds with their families near by and the people beyond died horribly from evil caught unexpectedly in the midst of their daily morning routines. And the names of the one are gone and the names of the other may never be known. Both names put on stone, like Ozymandius, mean nothing. The end result is the same.

            What can each of us learn from this? To be prepared for whatever comes in the next second, hour, day, or year. To realize that evil is equally countered by good if we remember look for the latter in the quiet corners. To believe that miracles can and will happen no matter how bad things appear at first glance. To know that how we will be remembered is by how we touch people today. It is people's memories of us and our actions that will bring each of us true immortality, not our name on a stone.

Most importantly, we should remember not to seize the day or the hour, but to seize the moment and hold it tight for it will be gone and replaced by we know not what. Each of us needs to keep these moments to sustain us. As T.S. Elliot said in the appropriately titled “The Waste Land:”

            “These fragments I have shored against my ruins…

            Shantih”

                                                                        By Kathleen E. Rourke

                                                                        December 2001

 

Kathleen Rourke is the Red Cross community volunteer leader in Tompkins County, Spiritual Care lead and Disaster Action Team member with more than 20 years of experience

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