The Associated Press/File
9:03 A.M., SEPT. 11

A fireball rolls out of the World Trade Center's south tower moments after United Airlines Flight 175 plowed into the New York landmark. Thousands died, and the world remains transfixed by the events of that day.

2001: Rising from the ruins

Agony and grief born from ground zero motivated many to provide hope and solace

PATRICK CONDON, THE OLYMPIAN

Originally published December 31, 2001

OLYMPIA -- It's been less than four months since Sept. 11, the day that changed everything.

In many ways, that day already feels like a page from a history book. Indelible images flashed across our television screens, pictures burned into America's collective consciousness: jetliners diving into skyscrapers, those same skyscrapers crumpling into dust and debris, a smoking hole blown into the side of the Pentagon.

And then there was the reaction, just as powerful. A citizenry united, balanced by a humbled view of America's security and its place in the world. Before long, the United States was at war half a world away, one that rages still.

Distance diminishes

For all the history that's been made in those four months, it's easy to forget just how fresh the wounds of Sept. 11 are. Like many Americans, most South Sound residents experienced the events of Sept. 11 and their aftermath mostly through the media. But being physically separated by the geography of an entire continent spared South Sound little of the grief still being experienced by millions.

"People need to know they're not alone with their fears, and they need to find a way to share them," said Brian Scheffer, a psychiatric social worker in Olympia. "We've all been feeling a lot of those feelings."

Vern Flesner has seen firsthand the grief of Sept. 11.

Flesner, the chaplain at Providence St. Peter Hospital, spent two weeks of October in New York as part of a volunteer group of chaplains called to the scene by the Red Cross and the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

The group helped staff a clearinghouse at New Jersey's Liberty Island, across the Hudson River from Manhattan, that was set up for the families of the World Trade Center disaster. In addition to providing legal, financial and mental health advice to the families, the makeshift command center offered spiritual care.

One of Flesner's jobs was to accompany large groups of family members as they visited ground zero. The groups would travel by boat across the river into Manhattan, then make their way to the site.

There, the family members were able to mount a platform and look out across the 16 acres of destruction that remained of the World Trade Center.

Flesner and his fellow chaplains stood a few feet back. Usually, a prayer was offered.

"The grief was heavy," Flesner recalls. "We couldn't do much but to be there. It was a ministry of presence."

Flesner listened to many stories, heard the anguish both of those who lost loved ones and those who were spared. He talked to the family of a man who died on his first day of work at the twin towers. He counseled another man, a survivor who wasn't in the building that morning because he overslept.

Like many, Flesner was not sure what to do with his own grief. He found it manifesting itself in anger. He recalled a similar anger he felt years earlier, during a rough period of his life when several members of his family died within a short period of time.

"In both cases, I was mad at death," Flesner said.

Creating peace

Flesner worked through his own grief by remembering what is truly important, something he recommends for anyone dealing with similar thoughts and feelings.

"I would encourage people to take an inventory of their relationships, of their families and their friends," Flesner said. "Deal with those relationships in a healthy, positive way. If there is tension, try to remove it. You can never know when that is going to be important."

In the days and weeks after Sept. 11, many South Sound residents were overwhelmed with the need to do something, to help out somehow, despite being a continent away.

"We all saw those towers collapse 60, 70 times," Scheffer said. "Really, it wasn't good for people. It was almost like experiencing it anew each time."

Whatever the psychological effects of the physical distance, though, it seemed to magnify South Sound residents' desire to make some kind of gesture. People waited in line for hours, and within several days after Sept. 11, the local Red Cross fielded about 1,500 phone calls, mostly from people wanting to donate blood.

So far, Red Cross executive director Kay Walters said her chapter has collected $303,000 from residents specifically for the victims of the Sept. 11 attacks. That's well over half the organization's entire yearly budget.

"The compassion of the people who have called me is unbelievable," Walters said. "I talked to people who felt so emotionally touched by this event, they needed to give every dime they possibly could to help. I've been left in tears on the phone several times."

The generosity has been so great, in fact, that it's raised concerns at the Red Cross and other charities that the well-intended giving has drained money for many other worthwhile causes right here at home.

For many, though, giving money or time is the way they will seek closure from an event that so far has defied it.

For others, that same need is being met by flying the flag, or raising concerns and organizing protests against the U.S. military's efforts to stamp out terrorism and the governments that support it.

Many simply have returned to their old routines, and pushed the events of Sept. 11 to the background, though not out of sight.

"You know, with a flood, the waters recede," Walters said. "An earthquake, the earth stops shaking. With this, there hasn't been a sense that it has ended."

On the Web:

- Sept. 11, 2001 Photos

- Terror in America

- South Sound Ties

- Sound Off at TheOlympian.com: Terrorism topics

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