Michelle Williams WTC Report

Michelle Williams' 9/14/2001

received 9/15/2001

I woke up at 1 in the afternoon, not sure how I was going to spend my day until I realized I was washing the asbestos out of my hair so I wouldn't get a double layer of it. I almost feel like I have no choices.

I headed first to Tessa's to get my phone which she ended up with last night and then on to the Salvation Army on 14th again, where lots of loading of way too many supplies was spilling onto the sidewalks. There is too much stuff everywhere. Too many people. In between loading shifts I went and talked to every Major I could, to tell them the names of the Majors I worked for last night and to tell them I had to get down to Ground Zero as soon as possible. But- our lovely president was there- and it was in a lockdown. I haven't yet told the story of how we actually got down there in the first place- and still don't have the energy to recap everything- but it is not easy. Pretty much everyone in the world, who, ya know, doesn't hate America, wants to be down at Ground Zero helping, and somehow, two days in a row, there I was. Anyway.

This morning there was an ice emergency, and around a hundred restaurants were called and mobilized to truck the ice to Ground Zero. Which led to way too much ice, and trucks sitting filled with it, but that is another story. The better story is the restaurant who thought it was an *ice cream* emergency and who brought a literal truckload of cookie ice cream bars to the Salvation Army. They were melting, they were delicious. So we canvassed the area with box after box of ice cream. I headed down to Union Square and passed it to the people surrounding the vigil, and to the homeless, and then on to Union Square Cafe where very soon the entire kitchen staff was standing around munching on melty cookie bars. I walked back out to Union Square, passing an entire town of ice cream eaters. I got back to the Salvation Army and kept trying to sort the huge mess of socks and blankets and food and medical supplies. I met a couple of really great guys from Brooklyn, one of whom had just stepped off the ferry when the first plane hit. He said that he, and everyone else, stood there transfixed as the second plane hit, and still they stood, watching, hundreds of people with craned heads looking skyward, not talking, not moving for forty-five minutes. No one really realized that there was danger until the first building began to collapse. Almost everyone there could have gotten away without a scratch if they had run after the second plane. But no one knew. He made it, and so did his wife working a block away. Amazing.

Finally a Major came up to me and quietly told me to go stand in a certain place and wait. They never told anyone a van was headed down there because the volunteers would literally riot at the idea of some going and others staying. Craziness. I asked the major if I could take my friends, and soon they had badges and we were all headed down. This time much more organized- we were actually a team, with a place to be, a supply central at the former American Express building.

The next few hours were not unlike last night- bucket after bucket of water and Gatorade, man after man after man, and the very occasional woman, waving me away or accepting and always, always not just saying thank you but "thank you very much". One guy said "No thank you but YOU are a vision" and at that moment I so wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world, the loveliest person alive, a distraction, on any level. Maybe, just maybe, for that moment, I was. I have never been surrounded by more men in my life. I have never been the only woman as far as the eye could see, with every man in *uniform*, no less. I have never loved the sight of army fatigues, never been a woman who thinks a man in uniform is appealing. Of course, none of this was appealing. But these men were all, bar none, so respectful, so kind, so thankful. And I would say two-thirds of them met and held my eyes longer than they normally would have, not searching really but definitely, definitely connecting. Almost every one. But- everyone holds hugs longer these days. Everyone touches more.

I saw my first body. I was walking to another staging site and six men were carrying a tarp with, well, stuff huddled in the middle. I didn't quite know what to do. When I first walked into our main staging area, there were three signs: HOT FOOD, MEDICAL, and MORGUE. They all pointed the same way. But I wasn't quite expecting this. Not an hour later, while inside, I was pouring sugar into a fireman's coffee and someone yelled "HATS OFF" and everyone bowed their heads to pray. And I walked from behind my table and there in front of me was a body, but not really, just parts, in a bag, on a gurney, carried in by six firefighters. They carried it in, set it down, yelled, the two priests said a prayer, and it was carried away. That was it. And I realized that these two priests hadn't moved since I had gotten there, that they were there to bless body after body...

I have to tell you that there is chanting outside my window right now: "U S A! U S A!" The chant we hear over and over now.

I don't know how many more times I heard "HATS OFF". I don't know how many times I was thanked in the last two days. I reached a point tonight when I simply stopped, walked out into Ground Zero, looked over the rubble and all of these men, all of my men, and I turned north and walked to Canal Street. All the way home my badge answered any questions the check points had, and at the final barricade, two cops lifted the sawhorses and let me pass out into the real world, where a taxi waited to take me home.

I haven't worked in almost a week. That is to say, I have not earned money in almost a week. Even if I were going back to work, no one is eating at the number one restaurant in New York. They are going to neighborhood pubs where the TV stays on and they can scooch tables together. I went into USC and told them I just couldn't come back yet. They said that they have been running with half staff anyway. Pretty soon I'll be heading to the Salvation to mooch off their extra food and their cots in a whole new way (tonight I told my friend that the real reason I am doing this is free pudding). I'm not sure what I'm going to do but... well, part of me is thinking about major career change. I don't know. I just don't know. I lose my apartment in two weeks, I don't have a new one, and I have absolute faith that this is all going to turn out as it should.

This was my first day without my family, only briefly seeing Ian and Hayley, and at one point, walking down a cold, dark, ash-mush filled street to get to a new part of Ground Zero, I felt so cold and sad I started to cry. It's weird to speak of self-indulgence anymore, what I and we should be allowed to feel. But what got me through it was that I know how very much everyone I know wishes they could have been me walking that cold dark street. I have never been so sore, I have never been so tired, I have never been so confused, still, about what I am supposed to feel.

I know this is so long, but I have to tell all of you how incredibly amazing the people are down there. The construction workers, the firefighters, the cops. They are unflagging, they are amazing, they are kind, beautiful, incredible. This is all about them now, in my mind, since I tell you right now, there will be no survivors. I don't know what else to say about that.

It's bedtime.

Love,M.