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By Root 477 0

at Ground Zero, Samantha and I walked down into the pit one last time to share a quiet moment writing messages on the only remaining steel beam, which would be removed as part of the celebration the following day. All the other debris had already been cleared and the site was ready for rebuilding. A priest and a rabbi prayed near us, and at that very second a white speckled pigeon flew over and sat on top of the beam. It was the first sign of wildlife I had seen at Ground Zero in the nine long months I’d worked there. I had been looking for the signs, yet not even one creepy cockroach had wandered into the area until that night.

The next day was the closing ceremony. I woke up at 5 a.m. to meet the other Salvation Army volunteer women on the corner of Murray Street. We walked over to where an unfamiliar SWAT agent clad in black ninja-like fatigues blocked our entrance to Ground Zero. He held up his M-16 automatic weapon and refused us entry. We tried other entrances, but everywhere we went, the Secret Service shut us out. They explained that it was a ceremony only for “the heroes of Ground Zero,” and so the firemen and policemen were the only ones allowed entry. We tried to explain that we had also worked down there, but our protests fell on protocol-stuffed ears.

We walked back up the street, elephant heads slung low, miserable at being shut out from the much-needed closing ritual. Half a mile up the street, we found some portable toilets and climbed on top of them for better viewing, but we could only imagine what was going on at the ceremonies down the road.

When the service was over, we were delighted to see the police and fire departments marching in full armor up the long street toward us. We jumped to our feet on top of the port-a-potties and started cheering wildly as the parade sailed by us. I waved to my old friend Paul, and he smiled and motioned for the other firefighters to look our way.

It was a magical moment. As if on cue in a Hollywood film, the entire fire department turned and saluted us with their white gloves. They gave us that “Ground Zero look” that had bonded us all together for so long. Then they tossed their hats in the air and tears flowed from our eyes.

Volunteering at Ground Zero was the first time I had worked alone on a mission of my own choosing. Throughout my childhood and young adult years, I had participated in projects that my parents or friends had created. But helping out with the post-9/11 rebuilding efforts in New York City had been my idea and my solo effort. It also showed me that everyone—from an old lady with a tea cart, to a middle-aged lawyer willing to clean toilets, to children with love in their hearts—is needed.

ACT II

THE THIRD WAVE

CHAPTER 4

After having come so close to death during the cricket bus accident in Australia, I found that I was able to push the boundaries in my life. I discovered that I had a powerful ability to move on and not dwell on the past. I became more adventurous. My heart was a lot tougher, and I became determined never to give up at anything.

After leaving Australia, I’d moved to New York and decided to make Manhattan my home. I started my new life with barely anything, so the only direction I had to go was up. New York was a competitive town, with the best of the best from around the world all aiming to be top-notch at what they did, and I loved that energy. I was there for the thrill, and I was moving at a different pace than I ever had before. My intellect was stimulated. I felt happy to be alive.

I found a cheap room to rent from an eighty-eight-year-old man who owned a large apartment on the Upper West Side. He treated me like his granddaughter and reminded me of my childhood friends at my mother’s hospital for the elderly. Every morning, I would lead him through a modified exercise class in his living room, instructing him to lift his arms and legs as he sat in a chair. He had no family, so when he was sick, I took him to the doctor and the dentist. It was a wonderful situation.

Then I started noticing signs of early