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 Judy's
Journal, by Judy Martin
September
11. I’ve written that phrase so many times as a journalist.
Every time it comes to the lips, it hits the mind, the soul,
and the heart. The same movie plays in my head, the planes
hitting, the towers coming down, the people dying. For me
it has two meanings because the line between reporter and
caregiver became all at once blurred and crystal clear in
the days following 911. As a reporter we are reminded not
to become part of the story, but on 911 that premise changed
out of pure humanness and a need to embrace a compassionate
mode of communication from the heart, because everyone was
hurting.
For anyone who listened to the radio, watched TV, and read
the paper, the sites and sounds of 911 would be forever etched
into their consciousness. It will be no different for the
people who carefully selected the words to tell one of the
most horrific stories of American History to date. It will
be no different for me. The grieving and eventual start to
healing came for me only when I removed my reporter hat and
became a caregiver. It was the only way I could deal with
what I had seen as a reporter and not remain slaughtered at
the core of my being. As reporters, I truly believe we provide
the important service of information, but I was compelled
as many journalists were to help out in a more profound way
for who I am as a person. I was given the gift to do that.
Through friends who worked with the United Nations I was able
to volunteer at a fun uninhibited care giving project at Pier
94 called the “Kids Corner.” Victim’s families lined
up every day at what became a giant conference-like site at
Pier 94. They moved from booth to booth to get financial aid,
counseling, and closure. It’s where they brought DNA evidence
to help identify their relatives lost in the plane bombings.
With my background with The River Fund New York - working
with the dying and family members in residential health care
facilities - I was able to help out at the “Kids Corner.”
It’s where families brought the children affected by 911.
Stuffed animals lined the wall, candy was scattered on the
tables and there was almost no room left on the walls as they
were covered by drawings the children had made of their perspective
of the disaster. The bravery of the firemen, the Twin Towers
crumbling down, a drawing of their mommy as an angel going
to heaven. I’m trained as a reporter to remain detached, but
detachment is so difficult when faced with children who have
lost a mommy or a daddy.
Here’s a story that was observed over and over again by many
of us attempting to offer comfort in our own small way.
It is not one person’s story. I felt I was in a turnstile,
the same words were repeated, the same sighs, similar pictures
drawn by children affected by the tragedy.
I remember that he had to have a blue magic marker.
The words he wrote on his canvas of white construction paper
were tall and lean just like the buildings he drew next to
them. The very precise engineering of the drawing was well
thought out. He took his time creating the huge pillars and
his message while his mom stood over his shoulder watching
intently. Tears streamed down her stoic face as she pointed
proudly to the goodbye letter her son was making for his dad.
It was at that moment that I took in a desperate gasp of air
very quietly so as not to burst into tears. I put my head
down only for a second and chanted to myself in my little
head, “It’s not about you.” Meaning this was HER moment
of grief and it was my gift to listen and just hold the space
for her. Not the time for me to let out the screams of grief
I had been collecting over the two weeks following 911 reporting
on the worst tragedy in the history of the United States.
In the next moment I scrambled to give the little boy a stuffed
animal. He was more interested in his important written message
and I felt the need to just give it to his mom. Her face lit
up, and my heart soared, and it was time to go home that night
after 10 hours at the “Kids Corner” at Pier 94.
There were so many stories, and confidentiality was and still
is paramount. The “Kids Corner” provided a safe space
for children and their parents to take a deep look at their
loss and a moment of gratitude for what they have.
I watched a family walk away from the “Kids Corner” to the
wall where people taped hundreds of letters of hope and thanks.
Letters decorated the rows of booths set up to help people
sort through their newly created lives that were changed in
a matter of minutes.
The majestic Twin Towers, once an icon of strength now reduced
to twisted enormous broken beams of steel. The devastation
to the eye is so numbing, the idea of what we perceived to
be a safe place in the world is shattered. But perhaps the
true compassionate spirit of America’s people is stronger
and more united than ever before.
Editors
Note: Judy Martin is an Emmy award-winning television
journalist who is currently a New York City Correspondent
for Public Radio International’s Peabody Award-winning, “Marketplace
Morning Report.” She is best known for her work as an
anchor/reporter for News 12 Long Island. She is on the
board of The River Fund of New York.
www.riverfund-ny.org
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