NewsUpper SchoolStudent LifeFaculty/StaffPre-K to 8Service
Volunteer shares New York experiences
Dec 10, 2001 8:00 AM
By Stefan Eady - Faculty
Darlington’s Susan Griffeth, wife of Greg Griffeth, the head of Griffeth House, spent 10 days as a disaster-relief volunteer with the American Red Cross in New York City. Griffeth shares some of her experiences at Ground Zero with the Darlington community.
Susan and Greg and their two sons, Larsen and Cole, live with nearly 30 resident girls in Griffeth House. Forty-six day girls are also part of the Griffeth House. As a way of showing their support,the girls of Griffeth House collected funds for Greg to travel to New York to visit his wife.
Nov. 10, 2001: As I exited the subway station onto Canal Street in Manhattan and walked toward the American Red Cross Service Center #1 where I was assigned as a volunteer nurse, I could hardly ignore the horrible odor in the air. I was eight blocks from the World Trade Center disaster site and I knew what I smelled. It smelled like burning tires, but I knew that it was hardly the case. Burning metal, papers, wood, and victims…so many innocent victims. It made me sick to think about it as I shuffled through the dirt in the street and the dust and smell in the air.
I made my way inside the Service Center, past the line of mostly Chinese immigrants that had been waiting there for as long as eight hours to share their stories of devastation from September 11 as they asked for financial assistance just to get by from day to day. They had lost their jobs, homes, and/or possessions in the disaster. I spent 10 12-hour days in that center listening to story after story of men, women, and children running down the street from the cloud of smoke, dust and debris falling from the sky like rain, as they fought for their lives for a clean breath of air; of mothers running from the destruction with their babies in their hands trying to cover their heads from falling rubble; of a woman three weeks post-op from open heart surgery running from the falling building as the staples in her chest loosened and getting trampled nearly to death because she was still so weak; and endless stories about men who could no longer provide for their families because they had lost their jobs and any insurance they had due to the disaster.
It was so painful for me to hear, but after hours of listening and doing all I could for their medical-related needs and after the Red Cross had given them checks for rent, groceries, medical bills, prescriptions, and whatever other assistance they needed that was directly disaster related, there was a sort of catharsis, in both the client and myself, I mean. The genuine feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction in my heart was unlike anything I have ever experienced. I was able to actually do something. This was a feeling that I had longed for after watching those horrific events unfold on that tragic day in our nation.
I realized that my world has met with that 33-year-old African-American single mother of two young girls, who grew up in Harlem, and who was still fresh from open-heart surgery. She just happened to be in World Trade Center Tower one that fateful day simply to be able to feed her children. I was overwhelmed and honored. The fact is that I was involved in helping this woman to rebuild her life as it used to be. Once our time together was over, she hugged me so tightly as we both cried, and she told me how she would never forget me. This changed me. I had countless tearful experiences like this that touched me so deeply that there is no way I have come back home the same person.
Nov. 20, 2001: And then I did it...the one thing that I had avoided the entire two weeks of my trip. I actually had a New York City policeman personally escort me through the police barricades and the many hundreds of people standing around to capture a glimpse of the devastation. I explained to him that I needed to see this for closure. I needed to put into perspective all of the stories that I had attempted to live through the victims that I assisted. I did not think that I could truly appreciate what all of those poor people suffered until I was able to see it for myself.
I got into the cart with the policeman and he took me around the entire site. What I saw was beyond anything I could ever put into words. The smell was now so pungent that it took my breath. There were huge trucks carrying away debris, driven by men wearing facemasks. There were policemen everywhere and signs reminding all who entered that this was still an active crime scene.
The buildings that were still standing around the cleared site where the Twin Towers once stood were charred, with windows blown out and twisted steel supporting them. In the midst of all of this sadness and destruction, in the area where the Towers stood, were two massive steel beams that had been sheared by the falling buildings. Standing 30 feet off the ground, having been untouched by human hands, the beams made the perfect shape of a cross. It was one of the most profound and poignant moments of my mission. I was able to get out of the cart and go to the site to pay my respects, weeping uncontrollably.
As the policeman drove me back to the street some 30 minutes later, our cart had to be sprayed down by men dressed in masks and white, protective suits in order to prevent remnants of the site from being tracked all over town. I hugged Daniel, the policeman who so graciously helped me, as I wept and thanked him for helping me to complete my journey. I thanked him for his bravery and unselfish dedication to his fellow Americans. He began to cry, as well, and explained that he would never forget me. He thanked me for my service with the Red Cross and my willingness to help the citizens of New York City try to rebuild. I left him to head to the subway station, needing to unwind emotionally and physically, as I was to return to my life and family in Rome the next day. I passed the memorials that lined the streets near the barricades and looked at the pictures of victims, fallen heroes, mothers and daughters, and children who lost their lives. I realized more than ever how blessed I am and how rich my life is.
Volunteering changed me. It gave me the opportunity to experience something so profound and to meet the most incredible people, to help in ways that changed other people’s lives and my own. It is difficult for me to know who benefited more from me volunteering with the American Red Cross, but I do know that I learned more about myself than any book could ever teach me. I made life connections with other volunteers from all over the country, and heart connections with the incredibly resilient clients that I helped assist. I was rewarded by giving of myself, my time, and especially my heart. It is a feeling that I cannot explain, a kind of transformation within. I wholeheartedly encourage you to try it.
Susan and Greg and their two sons, Larsen and Cole, live with nearly 30 resident girls in Griffeth House. Forty-six day girls are also part of the Griffeth House. As a way of showing their support,the girls of Griffeth House collected funds for Greg to travel to New York to visit his wife.
Nov. 10, 2001: As I exited the subway station onto Canal Street in Manhattan and walked toward the American Red Cross Service Center #1 where I was assigned as a volunteer nurse, I could hardly ignore the horrible odor in the air. I was eight blocks from the World Trade Center disaster site and I knew what I smelled. It smelled like burning tires, but I knew that it was hardly the case. Burning metal, papers, wood, and victims…so many innocent victims. It made me sick to think about it as I shuffled through the dirt in the street and the dust and smell in the air.
I made my way inside the Service Center, past the line of mostly Chinese immigrants that had been waiting there for as long as eight hours to share their stories of devastation from September 11 as they asked for financial assistance just to get by from day to day. They had lost their jobs, homes, and/or possessions in the disaster. I spent 10 12-hour days in that center listening to story after story of men, women, and children running down the street from the cloud of smoke, dust and debris falling from the sky like rain, as they fought for their lives for a clean breath of air; of mothers running from the destruction with their babies in their hands trying to cover their heads from falling rubble; of a woman three weeks post-op from open heart surgery running from the falling building as the staples in her chest loosened and getting trampled nearly to death because she was still so weak; and endless stories about men who could no longer provide for their families because they had lost their jobs and any insurance they had due to the disaster.
It was so painful for me to hear, but after hours of listening and doing all I could for their medical-related needs and after the Red Cross had given them checks for rent, groceries, medical bills, prescriptions, and whatever other assistance they needed that was directly disaster related, there was a sort of catharsis, in both the client and myself, I mean. The genuine feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction in my heart was unlike anything I have ever experienced. I was able to actually do something. This was a feeling that I had longed for after watching those horrific events unfold on that tragic day in our nation.
I realized that my world has met with that 33-year-old African-American single mother of two young girls, who grew up in Harlem, and who was still fresh from open-heart surgery. She just happened to be in World Trade Center Tower one that fateful day simply to be able to feed her children. I was overwhelmed and honored. The fact is that I was involved in helping this woman to rebuild her life as it used to be. Once our time together was over, she hugged me so tightly as we both cried, and she told me how she would never forget me. This changed me. I had countless tearful experiences like this that touched me so deeply that there is no way I have come back home the same person.
Nov. 20, 2001: And then I did it...the one thing that I had avoided the entire two weeks of my trip. I actually had a New York City policeman personally escort me through the police barricades and the many hundreds of people standing around to capture a glimpse of the devastation. I explained to him that I needed to see this for closure. I needed to put into perspective all of the stories that I had attempted to live through the victims that I assisted. I did not think that I could truly appreciate what all of those poor people suffered until I was able to see it for myself.
I got into the cart with the policeman and he took me around the entire site. What I saw was beyond anything I could ever put into words. The smell was now so pungent that it took my breath. There were huge trucks carrying away debris, driven by men wearing facemasks. There were policemen everywhere and signs reminding all who entered that this was still an active crime scene.
The buildings that were still standing around the cleared site where the Twin Towers once stood were charred, with windows blown out and twisted steel supporting them. In the midst of all of this sadness and destruction, in the area where the Towers stood, were two massive steel beams that had been sheared by the falling buildings. Standing 30 feet off the ground, having been untouched by human hands, the beams made the perfect shape of a cross. It was one of the most profound and poignant moments of my mission. I was able to get out of the cart and go to the site to pay my respects, weeping uncontrollably.
As the policeman drove me back to the street some 30 minutes later, our cart had to be sprayed down by men dressed in masks and white, protective suits in order to prevent remnants of the site from being tracked all over town. I hugged Daniel, the policeman who so graciously helped me, as I wept and thanked him for helping me to complete my journey. I thanked him for his bravery and unselfish dedication to his fellow Americans. He began to cry, as well, and explained that he would never forget me. He thanked me for my service with the Red Cross and my willingness to help the citizens of New York City try to rebuild. I left him to head to the subway station, needing to unwind emotionally and physically, as I was to return to my life and family in Rome the next day. I passed the memorials that lined the streets near the barricades and looked at the pictures of victims, fallen heroes, mothers and daughters, and children who lost their lives. I realized more than ever how blessed I am and how rich my life is.
Volunteering changed me. It gave me the opportunity to experience something so profound and to meet the most incredible people, to help in ways that changed other people’s lives and my own. It is difficult for me to know who benefited more from me volunteering with the American Red Cross, but I do know that I learned more about myself than any book could ever teach me. I made life connections with other volunteers from all over the country, and heart connections with the incredibly resilient clients that I helped assist. I was rewarded by giving of myself, my time, and especially my heart. It is a feeling that I cannot explain, a kind of transformation within. I wholeheartedly encourage you to try it.
