By Gratia L.
Karmes, ACSW,
Adjunct Faculty
in Social Work
n Sept. 29, the Red Cross flew me to
New York City to assist in the disaster relief effort following the collapse of the Twin Towers. The nearly
empty plane held mostly Red Cross people
like myself. We were all quiet as we looked
down on the Statue of Liberty. She looked
so small. I could see the smoke rising behind
her. My feelings mirrored what I thought
she must be feeling: helplessness, defenselessness, the unfairness of it all.
On the bus ride from LaGuardia Airport to
Manhattan, we saw the Statue of Liberty
again. Again we were quiet; again the smoke
loomed behind her. But this time she looked
tall, strong, invincible.
My “function” -- mental health -- was, and
still is, in short supply in the relief effort. We
volunteers were placed in a variety of settings: at Service Centers to distribute muchneeded concrete assistance such as hotel
vouchers and money for food, at Respite
Centers to work along side those serving
food and water to the workers on “the pile,”
and at the Family Assistance Center, where
those who actually lost loved ones are being
seen away from the “controlled chaos” of
some of the other operations.
I was part of an Outreach Team of mental
health, nursing, and family service workers
wh