Red Cross Helps Staten Island Family after Two-Alarm Fire

After a frantic call from her daughter, Sally DeVolt rushed home from work on a Friday afternoon to find that her apartment of 15 years had been destroyed in a fire.

Sally, a manager at a Staten Island diner, began to cry as she described what she saw.

“When I got home, it was not even home anymore,” she said. “There were so many firemen, so many fire trucks.”

She was thankful that her family — her son, her daughter-in-law, her daughter and her four grandchildren — all got out of the building safely. Because they fled with little more than the clothes on their backs, Red Cross disaster responders at the scene provided them with shoes, socks, tee-shirts, sweat suits and water.

“I did not know what the Red Cross did,” Sally said. “I’m so grateful.”

A few days later, Sally, who, with her family, was staying with neighbors, came to Greater NY Red Cross headquarters in Manhattan. A caseworker provided her with a debit card with funds for emergency food and clothing and information about next steps she could take for city housing, should the family require it.

“It’s a wonderful experience,” she said. “Because I had no idea all this help was out there. “I’m thankful to the Red Cross.”

Red Cross Helps Manhattan Mother and Young Daughter

By Dora He

As a single mother who works as a waitress and hostess, Elizabeth Huerta had many things to worry about. Like most people, the last thing she wanted to deal with was a disaster at home. Yet, one morning in December, she and her seven-year-old daughter woke to heavy smoke and flames in their Manhattan apartment.

“I was unconscious because of the smoke for about 15 minutes,” Elizabeth recalled. “I couldn’t hear anything—not even the fire alarm. My daughter was crying and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. It was a terrible moment for her.” Elizabeth was so shocked that she had trouble understanding exactly what happened. But before she knew it, she and her daughter were safely outside, rescued by firefighters.

The flames, caused by an electrical fire on the floor below, ended up destroying their apartment, and charred the surrounding apartments as well. Two Red Crossers arrived to help Elizabeth after she and her daughter arrived home from the hospital, after being checked for smoke inhalation. They assessed the damage to the apartment and gathered necessary information. For the time being, Elizabeth and her daughter decided to stay with Elizabeth’s mother.

 The pair received a debit card with money on it from Red Cross to cover food costs for a little bit, and help purchase some clothes. In addition to receiving guidance from a Red Cross caseworker, Elizabeth is reaching out to the NYC Department of Housing for help as she searches for another affordable living space somewhere else in the city. Like many people, Elizabeth was not aware of the Red Cross’s services in cases of home fires.

“I never imagined that the Red Cross could help me,” Elizabeth said. “You were the first to come to me and tell me, ‘We can help you,’ and I’m very thankful. You offered me services that I didn’t even know existed.”

You guys have helped me in the most tremendous way

Rafee Greig returned home from a long day at work one weekday night and received a tremendous shock: A brutal fire had swept through his Brooklyn apartment building earlier that day. As a result, his first floor apartment was destroyed.

“I go into my kitchen and my ceiling is down,” he said. “I walk into the living room and that ceiling is down, worse than the one in the kitchen.”

Greig, a summer camp director in the NYC public schools, called his boss, who came over with a colleague and helped him salvage what possessions they could. Greig stayed with friends, and a few days later, was alerted by a social worker to call the Red Cross.

At Greater New York headquarters in Manhattan, a Red Cross caseworker helped Greig through the steps he needed to take to begin rebuilding his life. She also provided him with a debit card so that he could replace basic necessities.

“My experience here has been very helpful,” he said. “Since Monday, every night I went to sleep I’ve cried throughout the night … today is the first day it was tears of joy. You guys have helped me in the most tremendous way.”

“I needed help right away and the Red Cross was there.”

By Michelle Shore

In late March 2013, Bronx resident George Ford returned home from a friend’s house and saw his second-story apartment in flames. His first thought was for his two Pomeranian dogs, Krypto and Knight, who were trapped inside. The American Red Cross responder who came to assist understood that for Ford, his dogs came first.

That’s because, for a long time, with no family in his life, the dogs had become like family to Ford, as had his neighbors in the Westchester Village neighborhood in the Bronx where he’d lived since 2009.

“This is the only place I have been able to call home in a while,” he said.

When the 56-year-old ex-Navy reservist was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer, he really saw the best side of his local community.

“I knew no one when I moved into this apartment but all my neighbors became my good friends,” Ford explained. During his cancer treatment, “They brought me food, did my laundry and shopped for me,” he said.

In return he helped out his neighbors and watched over the seniors in the building. After two years of extensive treatment and surgery, Ford’s cancer went into remission. Soon after that, he took the advice of his doctor and adopted the two Pomeranians.

“The dogs were a lifesaver for me,” he said.

The day his apartment burned, Ford tried desperately to reach the dogs. Though he made two efforts to climb onto the fire escape and into his apartment, thick smoke and flames pushed him back. Ford suffered minor non-life threatening burns from his rescue attempts.

Within minutes after Ford’s fruitless efforts, firefighters were in the apartment extinguishing the blaze and bringing out the dogs, who were both unconscious.

“Their eyes were shut and they were barely breathing,” Ford said. “I don’t know what I would have done if they had perished in the fire.”

After a half hour of oxygen administered by a firefighter, the dogs awoke. It was a moment of huge relief for Ford, who realized he wouldn’t be able to relocate without his dogs at his side.

“The American Red Cross responder got on the phone and wouldn’t stop calling until he had found a place for me and my dogs to stay,” he recalled.

In addition to providing Ford and his dogs with temporary housing during repairs to the damaged apartment, the Red Cross was also able to provide emergency funds to help with urgent purchases such as food and clothing.

“I needed help right away and the Red Cross was there,” Ford said. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“We were able to keep our dignity”

by Carl Manning

For Hafiz Ahmed, the American Red Cross was the difference between keeping his dignity as family provider and suffering the despair of being without any place to live but the streets.

Ahmed, who makes a living as a New York City taxi driver, arrived in the United States from his native Bangladesh in 1997. For the last year, he has lived with his wife and his 8-year-old son in a basement apartment in the Forest Hills section of Queens.

In March 2012, after dropping his son off at school, Ahmed was working his day shift when he received a frantic phone call from his wife. There was a fire in their apartment building and their home had been flooded with water and smoke. It would be uninhabitable.

When Ahmed arrived home, the police asked if his family had a place to stay. That’s when the reality sank in. He said he was supposed to be the family provider, but at that moment he couldn’t even provide them a place to live.

Ahmed didn’t have the money to stay at a hotel, his father and brother didn’t have room to take the family in and he couldn’t count on the landlord to help out.

“Everybody I know lives in tiny places and it is no good to go there and bother them,” Ahmed said. “Everything was gone. There was water like a shower on my TV, my computer, my mattress. The whole house smelled.”

As he worried about what to do next, Red Cross volunteers showed up at the scene and provided Ahmed and his family with immediate assistance—food, clothing and a place to stay.

“One night I was in my bed and the next night I was in the hotel,” he recalled. “During that time I got a gift from God. We made it. These people helped us … this is really appreciated.”

But the Red Cross assistance didn’t end there.

Ahmed met with caseworkers who helped with his long-term recovery needs. Ahmed said he didn’t realize the Red Cross helped fire victims, and he’s glad they were there when he needed them.

“The most important thing the Red Cross did for me was to assure me that I didn’t have to live on the street,” he said. “We didn’t beg anybody. We were able to keep our dignity.”

Chelsea Couple Turns to Red Cross Volunteers After Fire

By Gemma Haywood

Chelsea residents Ana, 27, and Miguel, 36, had been planning a romantic evening at home March 27: sharing a bottle of wine and celebrating their first year as a couple. Instead, they found themselves picking through what remained of their belongings after a fire destroyed their home.

Thankfully for them, the American Red Cross was on scene to help, providing emergency relief that would help them get through this trying time.

“The Red Cross was awesome to us,” recalled Miguel, “all of them!”

The fire happened in the middle of the day, when the couple was at work. It started in the Laundromat on the first floor of their 15th Street building, but spread quickly to their second floor apartment. By the time they were notified, little could be done.

Miguel was the first to arrive and was escorted to the burnt-out apartment by police and firefighters. Ana arrived soon after.

“When we got home all of our stuff was lying in the backyard. Glass was shattered everywhere, water everywhere, all of our clothing, our sofa, TV, computers, everything—a complete loss,” she said.

Standing on the sidewalk with just a few bags of salvaged belongings, Ana and Miguel learned that the Red Cross could provide them with assistance. In fact two Red Cross disaster response teams had arrived on the scene to help not only Ana and Miguel, but all of the building’s residents, who were ordered to vacate the building.

Recalling the efforts of the Red Cross teams, Ana said they did everything very quickly.

“They found somewhere for us to stay for a couple of nights; they gave us emergency funds to get some food; and they asked us to talk to a caseworker so we can find some help to follow up the case.”

Two days later, Ana and Miguel came in to the Red Cross Manhattan offices. Their meeting with a Red Cross caseworker empowered the couple to get the help they needed, including referrals for longer-term housing.

“The caseworker has been giving us good advice on what to do and what not to do. And how to proceed,” explained Miguel. “All the information she has given us has been so helpful.”

Ana and Miguel never thought they might one day need the help of the Red Cross. They were familiar with the humanitarian relief and recovery work of the Red Cross for major disasters such as Hurricane Sandy. Ana was also a regular blood donor for the Red Cross. But neither was aware of the Red Cross disaster response activity in the Greater New York region.

“You don’t think if you have a problem like this in your home, that the Red Cross can help you,” said Ana. “But now we know.”

“There Are People There to Help You”

Red Cross Helps Actress after New York Apartment Fire
By Steele Filipek

Although Kira Davies and her boyfriend, Tim Race, didn’t connect immediately with the American Red Cross after their Brooklyn apartment was destroyed by an electrical fire, once they did, they felt they were in good hands.

Davies and Race thought they’d lost everything in the fire—furniture, records, books, bed, clothes; in other words, many of the tangibles that make up everyday life. Thankfully, neither was home at the time, and they were able to salvage some meaningful items, but seeing a decade of New York living going up in flames was as surreal as it was devastating.

“I pulled up in a car to see the fire department literally throwing my dresser out my window,” Davies reported. “My apartment was on fire.”

An actress and part-time sales agent, Davies had very little left with which to start over, least of all, time. Working on several projects for the theatre troupe Dangerous Ground Productions while also filling in for a departing actor took her mind off of the damage that had been done, but also prevented her from picking up the pieces.

Then, days after the fire, she and Race, who were staying with friends, returned to the apartment to see what they could salvage. They now saw that the Red Cross had left a sticker on the door of their apartment following the incident (it had been partially covered by another notice), and reached out for help.

Though she had worked for charities in the past (specifically, Children’s International), Davies had never “really thought about being the recipient of any support.”

She didn’t realize the Red Cross could help. After all, she thought, the Red Cross assisted victims of huge disasters like Hurricane Sandy. What could they do for her?

A lot, apparently.

The process proved to be straightforward, easy and quick. A phone interview led to a home visit by Red Cross disaster responders. They conducted a damage assessment and, within minutes, determined that the apartment was unlivable. The assessment led to a rented hotel room (provided for by the Red Cross) and stabilized the couple’s situation.

There was more.

“The Red Cross team handed Tim a debit card right there, on site,” Davies said. “We had almost run out of money…. I don’t know what we would have done if they hadn’t come.”

The debit card was to cover replacement food and clothing; the couple also received MetroCards for transit to and from Red Cross regional headquarters in Manhattan to speak with a caseworker for further assistance.

Davies said that the responders were helpful and kind, understanding of the circumstances. With their backing, Davies is in the process of moving out and on with her life.

“I would tell people that if they have a disaster, they should reach out as soon as possible, especially that first night,” she said.

The stress of everyday life had been amplified by the tragedy, but the Red Cross was there to help.

“People should know that if something awful happens that’s out of your control, there are people there to help you.”

Red Cross was prompt and friendly.

by Michelle Shore

When fire began spreading through Marjorie Farrell’s fourth floor Brooklyn apartment on the bitterly cold night of Feb. 20, the young couple’s first reaction was to warn their neighbors.

“We ran from apartment to apartment telling people,” Farrell said. “Luckily, our six-year-old son, Tawfiq, was staying with relatives,” she added with relief.

They then made several attempts to put out the flames shooting up from their mattress with cups, and then buckets of water. But to no avail. Black smoke began to billow through the apartment, and they ran out.

Farrell was wearing pajamas and socks, but no shoes. A neighbor gave her a piece of cloth to wrap herself in. Her husband was brought into an ambulance and evaluated for smoke inhalation.

Farrell, who is a devout Muslim, rushed down the street to her family’s mosque, where she works and her husband teaches. She began to pray. It was 5 am; just in time for morning services.

When Farrell and her husband returned home, the American Red Cross was on hand to help.

Some of the things the Red Cross made available included a debit card with funds for food and clothing; city housing referrals, and the documentation needed to retrieve her husband’s prescriptions after his medications were lost in the fire.

“Red Cross was prompt and friendly,” she said. “I could relax for a second."

Farrell says she’s no stranger to working to assist and counsel families. On a daily basis she works at the mosque, helping other families in need put the pieces back together.

Moving forward, Farrell said she also wants to get involved in volunteering, possibly even at the Red Cross. She stresses she wants to “give back to the community and help others,” as she was helped.

Maria Castro, Strength in Tragedy

By Ashley Chapman

Maria Castro likes to talk about how her 17-year old son, Jorge Rosario—or Jay Jay, as she calls him—spontaneously dove into the freezing ocean on a cold day last November after a construction job for post-Sandy clean up in the Rockaways.

Not long after that, Jorge was fatally shot in the head at a party in Bushwick, Brooklyn.

For Maria and her remaining three children: Diamond, 12; Reyshawn, 6; and Crystal, 1; the months since then have become increasingly difficult. Three months after the Castro family lost Jorge, they lost their home.

On February 17, a fire started in the apartment next door to the Castro’s in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Maria was across the street while Diamond was home with the baby, Crystal. Maria saw smoke coming out of the building and started running towards it just as Diamond emerged, carrying Crystal in her arms.

“The first thing I thought was ‘Thank God, my kids are okay,’” said Maria. “But then I began to think, ‘What else will God put in front of me’? I don’t bother nobody, I don’t hurt nobody.”

The fire destroyed the Castro’s apartment on a bitter cold morning when New Yorkers were stocking up on winter supplies, preparing for the snowstorm that was expected to hit the next day.  But unlike most people, the Castros had not only lost their basic supplies—necessities like baby blankets and diapers—they had also lost all of their possessions, including irreplaceable photos of Jorge.

Within hours of the fire, the New York Red Cross provided Maria and her kids with vital emergency support: diapers and a blanket for the baby, a debit card to purchase essential items, and hotel lodging for the entire family. Since then, the Red Cross has helped the Castros get settled into a more permanent home.

“As a mother protecting her children,” said Maria, “if I didn’t have the Red Cross to put us in a hotel, I think I would have just gone to a hospital waiting room to sleep. At least it would be warm and safe there for my kids. Otherwise, we’d be on the streets.”

“My kids are my priority,” she added. She admitted that the past few months have been especially hard on Diamond, who, at 12, is old enough to absorb the pain.

“My daughter cried a lot and said things like, ‘I lost my big brother. Now we are losing our home. What else will happen to us?’” Maria said.

For now, Maria tries to provide her kids a sense of comfort in the routine. On the first Sunday after the fire, she took them to church and then to get ice cream, as they had every other Sunday. That was when Diamond asked her what the Red Cross does.

“I explained to her how the Red Cross has helped us,” Maria said. “And she said, ‘The Red Cross makes us safe. Without the Red Cross, we would be sleeping in our car, Mom.’”

These days, when you ask Maria how she is doing now, she speaks evenly, but then her voice cracks.

“I will not forget about him,” she said. “Everything is hitting me and I’ve got to be strong. I have to stay focused. I thank God every day for waking me up. I say, ‘Today’s a new day, I have to keep my head up.”

With the help of the Red Cross, this task has hopefully been made a little easier.

When Your House Burns Down, A Little Levity Goes a Long Way

By Ashley Chapman

On January 14, Na’eem Rasheed, age 36, returned from class to find fire trucks blocking his street in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. There was so much chaos that it was hard to tell which building was in flames.

“You just don’t think it’s going to be your house on fire,” said Rasheed. 

But it was his house: a four-story brownstone that Rasheed shared with 22 neighbors. By the time Rasheed arrived, firefighters had spent two hours extinguishing the two-alarm blaze, which had ripped through the back of his building and into the brownstone next door.

The Red Cross was on site when Rasheed arrived, providing key resources and emergency relief, including temporary housing for all the displaced tenants in the building. 

Rasheed was the first tenant home, so he took charge by calling his neighbors and roommates to tell them the news. It wasn’t as simple as it sounded.

“When I called them to say ‘the house is on fire, you need to come back,’ many thought I was kidding,” he said. 

When he went to his apartment to retrieve some key items, he was shocked by what he saw: broken windows, an overturned bed and shelves, and possessions strewn across the floor.

“I just started laughing because I couldn’t believe it,” Rasheed explained. “When I’m nervous, I joke around. But the Red Cross guy understood this, and he joked around with me a little bit.”

Rasheed was particularly nervous about where he was going to stay for the night so the emergency housing that the Red Cross provided gave him peace of mind.

“Once I found out that I had a place to stay,” Rasheed recalled, “I began to calm down and was able to help out those around me.”

In the past, Rasheed had volunteered and donated both money and blood to support the Red Cross, but he never knew that the Red Cross also helps out in local disasters. 

“If people have any money, they should donate it to a worthwhile charity like yours because you do a lot of great work that’s very, very important in situations like this,” he said. 

“I’m a very anxiety-prone person, and man, I would have really freaked out if it hadn’t been for the Red Cross.”

When looking back on the past month, Rasheed admitted that the fire, while traumatic, was also a bit ironic. 

“I had been praying that I'd find a way to move out of the neighborhood,” Rasheed said. “But I wasn’t expecting the whole house would burn down."

A One Alarm Fire Puts Things into Perspective

By Ashley Chapman

At two a.m., the smell of burning electricity was so strong that it awoke Angela Rosa and her three kids in their Bronx apartment.

Rosa heard people scream, “Fire! Call 911!” so she and her children, ages 11, 15 and 17, grabbed warm clothes and a few photos off the wall, and fled. When they emerged into the cold January night, they saw that the apartment directly above theirs was in flames.

While the American Red Cross continues to manage recovery efforts from Superstorm Sandy, its emergency dispatchers are also responding around-the-clock to disasters, like the one-alarm fire that destroyed Angela Rosa’s apartment.

Throughout the Greater New York region, the Red Cross responds to an average of seven disasters daily, and provides comfort, shelter and support to those affected.

Even one-alarm fires like Rosa’s make homes uninhabitable due to extensive water and smoke damage. When the fire department let Rosa back into her home the next day, she had to use an umbrella as the ceilings had collapsed.

“It was raining everywhere,” said Rosa. “Our mattresses were soaked, our clothing was ruined, and even the ceiling in the bedroom that I share with my little girl had burst.”

The Red Cross provided the affected residents with temporary emergency shelter at a local hotel and gave them essential resources like clothing and hygiene kits.

“The Red Cross is excellent at times in need,” said Rosa. “When you don’t have anything, you know you can turn to them because they understand.”

Rosa, who is a single mother with type 1 diabetes, hopes to return to her apartment as soon as possible with her family. But you won’t hear her complain about her situation. Instead she laments about the victims of Hurricane Sandy.

“They don’t even have a home to return to,” she said. “Just bricks. Imagine how those people are suffering. We are lucky to have a roof over our heads. We’re being taken care of, and staying warm.”

Red Cross Responds to Everyday Disasters while Sandy Relief Continues

By Julie Krizen

Although the American Red Cross is in the midst of its Superstorm Sandy response, the largest U.S. disaster response in five years, “routine” disasters continue to occur within the Greater New York Red Cross region.

“While phones are still ringing for Hurricane Sandy, we’re also handling our usual seven to eight disasters a day across New York City, Long Island, the Lower Hudson Valley, Westchester County and Greenwich, Conn,” said Takia Chandler, Greater New York Red Cross emergency communications dispatcher. “We’re multi-tasking. Our emergency communications center runs 365 days, 24 hours a day. As dispatchers we take the information and send out a response unit.”

Red Cross volunteer Jerry Rothstein is one of those responders always ready to answer the call for help, providing assistance for house and apartment fires, building collapses and more.

“Some apartment fires involve large numbers of families,” said Rothstein, “and generally speaking, people have no idea what services the Red Cross provides.”

Rothstein said that when families learn that the Red Cross will give them temporary housing and emergency funds for lost food and clothing, they’re usually surprised and happy.

“Most are just delighted that someone has come out to help them.”

Since Sandy made landfall, the Greater New York Red Cross has assisted more than 500 households affected by everyday disasters like home fires, providing hope, comfort, and support to those affected. Volunteers and donations make this possible. To get help or to help, call 1-877-REDCROSS or go to www.nyredcross.org.

“If they weren’t here, we don’t know what would have happened to us.”



Photo: E. Calderon/S. Johnson


Okisha Ashley, her four children and her grandmother, Nellie, who was visiting from the Island of Jamaica, were fast asleep in Okisha’s Walton Avenue apartment in the Bronx around 12:30 am on July 18 when they were awoken by someone kicking hard at the apartment door.

Alarmed, Okisha called the police. Then she looked out the window, saw fire trucks and heard a commotion. She immediately grabbed her kids and her grandmother and ran downstairs and out of the building.

“We didn’t bring anything,” she said, “just the cloths on our backs.”

Her entire apartment, her home for 33 years, was destroyed—her ceiling had collapsed as a result of all the water being used to put out the fire above.

“I had just remodeled my apartment—new furniture, a new TV,” said Okisha, “Everything is gone.”

They were, however, very glad to be safe.

“I was just thankful that we are all alive.”

After evacuating, they waited in a park across the street until the Red Cross set up a reception center at nearby All Hallows High School. There, they cooled down a bit, ate and waited.

At the center, a Red Cross responder told Okisha that she and her family were eligible for emergency housing at a hotel. Although grateful for the offer, they declined and stayed with a friend.

They did, however, come to Greater NY headquarters in Manhattan the next day where Red Cross caseworkers provided the family with emergency funds for clothing.

“My kids have been wearing the same thing since the fire,” said Okisha, “Because of the Red Cross, I’ll be able to buy them a change of clothes.”

The Red Cross also provided Okisha with information on how to obtain long-term housing while their apartment is being renovated.

“I didn’t know the Red Cross was so helpful,” said Okisha. “You would never think you would be in that situation; that’s how quick you can end up homeless. I really appreciate what the Red Cross did for us. If they weren’t here, we don’t know what would have happened to us.”

My Five-Alarm Life: Home

By Aabye-Gayle D. Francis-Favilla

Home—there’s no place like it. But after the fire in our apartment building left us displaced for almost a year, “home” became a moving target. In its stead, we had to find temporary accommodations. For ten months we relied on the generous hospitality of family and friends, wondering all the while when we’d be able to move back into our home again.

We gained a lot through our loss. We learned how to live with just what would fit in my car—how little we really needed to be content and comfortable. We had new and interesting experiences: My husband and I were interviewed for various videos—we even made it on the news. I shared our story at the Red Cross Gala and was completely outfitted for the event by Lord & Taylor. We were inundated with love—the generosity of those around us (friends, family, and even a few strangers) blew us away. My husband and I learned more about each other and ourselves: our limits, our strengths, our hopes. But mostly we learned how to move a lot—and frequently—and often.

We were urban nomads. We made six moves in ten months. There was an oasis of time where we got to stay put for a few months, but mostly we just kept moving. First we moved to my brother-in-law’s. Then two friends took us in for a month. Then we got a moving break when we signed a six-month lease for a temporary apartment. Hoping our home would be ready soon, we returned to our friends’ apartment for another month. Thinking we’d be able to move back “any day now,” we spent our final six weeks of waiting living with my in-laws.

Each of our moves had its blessings and challenges. And I like to think of them in different ways. For example, geographically: Maspeth, Union Square, Long Island City, Union Square, Hollis, Elmhurst (home) or Queens, Manhattan, Queens, Manhattan, Queens, home. There is our relationship to our hosts: family, friends, just us, friends, family, home. And finally, there is where we slept: living room futon, private bedroom, own apartment, private bedroom, twin bed, home.

That’s right, for the last six weeks of our displacement, my husband and I shared a twin bed. And as much as we love each other, that was definitely a challenge. Neither one of is very tall or otherwise large. We’re both fairly average in size. But we’re also both sprawl-style sleepers. While dreaming, we each like to spread out. We manage to get in each other’s way on a queen mattress, so sharing a twin bed gracefully was close to impossible. We tried multiple sleeping configurations and orientations. We tried to sleep while remaining absolutely still. Eventually we gave up, put a sleeping bag on the floor, and took turns.

So when we finally moved back into our renewed apartment, it was a very happy homecoming for us. After ten months of waiting, we had our own space again—space to spread out—space that was ours. We weren’t visitors, guests, temporary residents, or passers through anymore. We were home.

Oddly enough, home took some getting used to. It was familiar and different. The apartment was completely renovated. It was gutted down to the foundations and built up again. The general layout is the same as it was before, but there are some minor differences I had to adjust to. On a daily basis I would reach for light-switches that weren’t where they used to be, but a few inches to the right or left. And even though we’ve been home for months now, there are still some switches I can’t find instinctively in the dark.

There were some other mild inconveniences. Everything wasn’t perfect when we moved in. Our newfangled intercom system was a comedy of errors for many months before it finally worked. Our bedroom furniture couldn’t be delivered right away, so we spent our first few weeks home living out of suitcases and sleeping on an air mattress. Our elevator was out of commission for a month after we moved in. This made buying groceries or doing laundry a form of exercise (or a punishment). And even though our super has “fixed” it countless times, our kitchen sink still leaks. But that’s okay. I don’t care. I’m home.

"When the Red Cross walked up I knew I could calm down."

by Gordon Williams

It's impossible to know in advance when disaster will strike—or to appreciate the degree of trauma and chaos victims will face when it does.

To Lew Eleanor McNeely, the scene was terrible when she returned from a Sunday morning outing with her 2½-year old granddaughter Angelina in mid-June to find her 10th floor Manhattan apartment engulfed in flames.

Firefighters were focused on battling the blaze; neighbors were themselves in shock and could not help ease her sense of panic and loss. No one was in a position to tell her what to do next. She had no food or diapers for the baby and almost no cash in her purse to buy more. She looked around the disaster scene and found herself alone.

“When you are in the eye of the storm, you need someone to guide and direct you,” she recalled. “But I felt I was on my own.”

Then two disaster responders from the American Red Cross—Cosmina Menghes and Tiara Youmans— arrived on the scene.

“When the Red Cross walked up I knew I could clam down. I knew they would have the answers for me. "It was like the parting of the waters,” Lew Eleanor said. “When they walked up, I knew I could calm down. I knew that someone would have the answers for me.”

Baby Angelina seemed fascinated by the responders’ Red Cross caps. They let Angelina play with one of the caps, which nicely distracted the infant. The crew began the process of registering Lew Eleanor into the system so Red Cross client services caseworkers could provide longer-term assistance. As they took control of the situation, Lew Eleanor felt her own sense of panic and hysteria drain away.

The Red Cross took care of her immediate needs for money to buy baby supplies by issuing a Client Assistance Card—a debit card that she could put to use almost immediately. The damage to the apartment was so great she could not spend the night there. The Red Cross provided her with emergency housing in a clean, safe lodging.

She visited the Red Cross offices in Manhattan and talked to a Red Cross representative about her longer-term needs. Luckily, the managers of her building were able to find her a new apartment almost at once. It helped that she has grown up in the building and that her father had been the building superintendent for 30 years.

It also helped that Lew Eleanor had been a valued tenant in the building—someone very special with a splendid work history and a lifetime filled with accomplishments. She not only spent 25 years teaching classes in adult literacy, but in the evenings she trained other teachers. Since retiring, she said, “I have tried to do everything on my bucket list."

She learned to swim, gave up smoking and taught herself Spanish. Next on the schedule is to travel to the Caribbean.

So the crisis is past and assistance from the Red Cross helped Lew put her life back together again. But there still are important lessons her experience can teach others.

The first is that disaster can strike anyone at any time. Lew Eleanor had spent a joyous day in the park with Angelina. They played in a playground, rode a carrousel, rolled down a grassy hill.

“It was a great, great day,” she said. “We were heading home, all grimy and grassy and sandy, toward what should have been a nap for Angelina and some feet-up rest time for grandma.”

Instead she found her street clogged with fire engines and her apartment in flames.

The second lesson is to be triply careful you are not doing things that could bring disaster to your door.

The night before the fire she had lighted a prayer candle on Saturday night and assumed it had burned itself out by Sunday morning.

But it looks as though the candle had not extinguished itself and was the apparent source of the fire.

“The prayer candle took the apartment,” she said ruefully. “But we weren’t home when the fire began and the baby was never in any danger. That is the real answer to all my prayers.”

Lew Eleanor McNeely—Manhattan

What the Red Cross Means to Me

By Gordon Williams

I've been a Disaster Planning and Response volunteer at the Greater New York Red Cross for the past seven years—six as a disaster responder and the past year as a dispatcher in the Emergency Communications Center. But I’ve been running after fire engines a lot longer than that.

My dad was a newspaperman in Chicago, who couldn’t resist racing to the scene of a hot story. The radio in every car he owned was modified to receive police and fire calls. More than once as a child, I remember being awakened by my dad in the middle of the night and told, “There's a great fire, let's go.”

“Howard, the boy needs his sleep,” my mom would say. “Nonsense,” my dad would answer, and off we would go, driving through the dark toward an orange glow in the sky.

My father knew the men at the local fire house and I spent many Sunday mornings there—dad chatting with the firefighters and me climbing over the apparatus. My favorite perch was the tiller seat—the secondary steering wheel at the back of a hook-and-ladder, used to steer the rig around tight corners.

Chasing Fire Engines for a Living

My first job was as a police reporter on a Chicago newspaper, covering crime and fires. Ever hear of a fire burning 14 days? This one was in a refrigerated warehouse, with cork-insulated walls a foot thick. Day-after-day the fire burned through the cork, one floor after another collapsing until the whole building was a mountain of ruble. I stopped off each morning on my way to work, looking for fresh angles to the story.

The worst fire I ever covered came on the day in 1958 I formally presented an engagement ring to my then-fiancé (now my wife of 53 years). I gave her the ring, put her on a train back to college and went off to cover the Our Lady of Angels fire. The fire had burned through a parochial school on Chicago's West Side, killing 92 children and three nuns. More than a half-century later, the awful images of that day remain vivid in my mind.

My career in journalism went off in a different direction—from reporting on crime and disaster to covering business and global finance I spent 20 years as a writer and editor on Business Week magazine and 13 years as network business correspondent on television and radio for ABC News.

My First Tries at Volunteering

I retired from ABC in 1994 to start my own consulting business. Over the years I got involved in various volunteer activities. For example, I was one of five members of a committee created to bring the mission and message of a big national charity into the 21st century.

All my volunteer work seemed to involve endless meetings that led to reports and recommendations that ultimately never seemed to lead anywhere at all. I spent a lot of time and effort, but never saw anyone receiving any direct benefit from my work.

Volunteering With a Difference

Hurricane Katrina jolted me awake as it did many people. I went to the old Red Cross building on Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan and signed up for training as a disaster responder. And that opened the door to what for me has been “volunteering with a difference.” I have attended few meetings, written no reports at all. What I have had is countless opportunities to provide direct, face-to-face help to people whose need for help is critical.

Actually my first major response in 2006 is still one of my most memorable—a four-alarm apartment house fire in Queens that left 65 people homeless in 17 non-habitable apartments. It was my third training shift and only the second for Melody, my fellow responder in training. Red Cross supervisors Danny Reyes and Jean Sylla raced upstairs to start the disaster assessments. Melody and I found the only lighted dry spot in the building—the basement laundry room—and started registering clients for Red Cross assistance. We wound up transporting two busloads of clients to a nearby motel.

Hitting the High Points

So what are the high points of seven years as a Red Cross volunteer?

It has been exciting. There’s no telling when a shift begins, what will happen. You might spend the shift at the chapter, never going out. Or you might spend a frantic night, going from one incident to the next. After one very busy night, another responder and I were having a pre-dawn meal in a fast food place in Queens—a late dinner or an early breakfast, we never decided.

Our clothes were damp and smeared with soot. We both gave off a decidedly pungent smell of smoke. The other responder looked at me and said he doubted that anyone else in New York City had spent the evening quite as we had. Not since my days as a working journalist have I experienced the adrenalin rush that some of my Red Cross responses have given me.

I think New York is the greatest city in the world and being a Red Cross volunteer has given me an active and fulfilling role to play in the life of my city. As volunteers we become part of New York in a way few people ever experience. Eight million people live in New York, and we are among those who make a difference.

The Satisfaction of Giving Back

I had a great career. At any given time, fewer than 200 people are correspondents for one of the big broadcast networks. For 13 years, I was one of them. I would like to think my talent accounted for that. The truth is I was blessed with great gobs of sheer good luck—being in the right place at the right time. I caught plenty of lucky breaks and now it’s time to give something to those who aren't as lucky as I was.

And that is the ultimate reward for being a Red Cross volunteer—meeting someone who has just gone through the worst experience of their lives and being able to help. We often get tired and wet and filthy on the job. Sometimes we have to take risks to do a damage assessment. In the end, being the first to offer help to someone who desperately needs help makes it all more than worthwhile.

--Gordon Williams, NY, NY

When Help Can't Wait

by Gordon Williams, Red Cross Volunteer

Look at just one disaster scene, work your way through one burned-out dwelling and you’ll understand why the Red Cross can’t wait in rushing help to disaster victims.

Until you see it first-hand, you can't imagine the devastation a fire can cause. A fire doubles in size every 30 seconds. As it spreads, it consumes everything in its path.

I've been in burned-out apartments where not a single piece of furniture was recognizable as such. What little that remained intact—clothing, a mattress, a child's beloved toy—was soaking wet and reeking of smoke. I have responded to hundreds of disasters in my seven years as a volunteer with the Greater New York Red Cross. A few responses stand out in my mind:

• A large family in Queens huddled on their back porch—the only part of their house not destroyed by fire.

• An elderly couple in Brooklyn, comforting each other as our Red Cross van pulled up. The husband had carried his disabled wife to safety but all they had accumulated over a lifetime—even the wife's wheelchair—was destroyed.

• A fire in lower Manhattan that spread over a city block and left hundreds of people homeless.

The Red Cross doesn't respond only to fires. We're on the scene at building collapses, storms, blackouts, vacate orders and more—any event that leaves people homeless.

A vacate order is issued when a government agency decides a building is unsafe for human occupancy. Because the occupants are considered to be at risk, they are given just a few hours to leave a place where they may have lived for years.

I remember a vacate in Harlem—ordered after the fire department determined that illegal renovations had made the building structurally unsound. More than 60 tenants needed Red Cross help.

The Crucial Role the Red Cross Plays

The Red Cross can't restore what was lost in a disaster. But we can—and do—help people through the critical first hours and days after disaster strikes. We provide meals, clothing, emergency financial assistance and a safe place to sleep. We help those affected deal with physical and mental health issues. Finally, Red Cross caseworkers can help people make longer-term plans to get their lives back on track

The Red Cross responds to an average of seven disasters a day in New York City alone—almost 2,300 responses a year. And that does not count the disaster responses by volunteers in the surrounding counties that are also part of the Greater New York Red Cross region. The people affected by disaster that we help—their need for assistance is acute and immediate. And there’s never a charge for Red Cross assistance. Our help is free to New Yorkers in need. It is paid for by gifts from donors big and small, from every walk of life.

Why Time is Running Out

There's a special reason right now why help can't wait. A loyal donor to the Red Cross has issued a Challenge Grant as part of our Greater New York “Help Can’t Wait” fundraising campaign. Thanks to that grant, donors can increase their gifts to the Red Cross by 50% (Your gift of $10 immediately becomes a $15 donation).

But time is short. We must raise $500,000 by June 30 to gain the benefit of that matching challenge. That's why, this time more than ever, help just can’t wait!

My Five-Alarm Life: Then and Now

By Aabye-Gayle D. Francis-Favilla

Ever since I was a kid I’ve had an affinity for fire trucks—I found them beautiful in all their loud, bright, red splendor. I had my own toy truck, and I loved it—in fact, I loved everything firefighter-related. I wanted to wear the helmet, boots, and jacket; and I really wanted to slide down one of those poles. I treasured my little red plastic fire helmet, and wore it with pride around the house.

Back then, I probably didn’t fully understand what a firefighter does, but I knew they were helpful and important thanks to “Sesame Street” and “Mr. Rogers.” In fact, the only reason I liked going to the grocery store was because it was down the block from a fire station, and if the firefighters weren’t busy, my parents would take me inside for a visit. I wasn’t allowed to slide down the pole, but I did get to try on a real fireman’s helmet and sometimes stick my little legs into a pair of their giant boots. I liked to imagine sitting behind the wheel of the fire truck, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t.

Other days, we wouldn’t get to go in the firehouse. The alarm would sound, and I’d watch as that bright red truck emerged with its sirens screaming. People and cars would part to make way, and the truck would speed off. I didn’t know or understand where it was going. I didn’t comprehend that every firefighter on that truck was about to risk his or her life. I just thought it was exciting—the truck, the lights, the noise.

Then one day many years later, firefighters were in our home—our apartment building—which stood burning as my husband and I waited on a frigid, snowy December night for the fire trucks to come. We watched helplessly as firefighters climbed through the window of our apartment to put the fire out. Since then, the sight of a firefighter has made me feel grateful—thankful that because of the brave and hardworking men and women that came that night, our building didn’t burn completely to the ground. They fought the wintry elements and the fire, and not a single life was lost.

I still think the fire truck is an amazing vehicle, but now that I’m older, and have seen them come to my home, they look different to me. Now, when I see fire trucks pass by in emergency mode, I wonder where they’re going. Is someone losing their business, their home, or their life in the flames? And if I’m close to my own home at the time, I can’t relax until I see the trucks pass my street without stopping.

That’s one of the things I unexpectedly lost in the fire, a complete sense of security (where fire is concerned). Even after we had returned to our apartment—a beautifully renovated home—there was some residual damage to navigate internally. Fear had crept in and eroded things. Knowing that the person who had accidentally started the fire still lived upstairs left us feeling uneasy.

On one afternoon in particular—not even a full week after we’d moved back in—we were walking home from the store—our shopping cart full of things like paper towels, frozen pizza, and dish soap. We were three or four blocks away from our building when we heard sirens, and then a caravan of fire trucks passed us. We both looked at each other. Neither of us said anything, but we simultaneously picked up the pace. Those trucks weren’t going to our block, let alone our apartment building, but until I was standing on my street corner, seeing with my own eyes that everything was okay, my heart hung heavily.

These are the little damage residuals that always remain in me after an accident or traumatic event. For years after my dog got attacked in the park, I walked with a big stick. After my first car accident, I drove with extra vigilance. And for months after our fire, I worried every time the smoke detector went off in a neighbor’s apartment, or I found myself part of a fire drill. And when smoke filled our hallway one year and one day after our fire (just two months after we’d moved back in), I worried. Was our home going up in flames again?

Turns out someone had fallen asleep with food in the oven and it had burned, producing a lot of smoke. It never got serious (though it could have). And it poked at a wound that was still raw for all of us who had been there one year and one day ago. I could feel a collective tension permeating the building, and I, myself, didn’t stop worrying until the firefighters had finished their inspection and left.

Trauma changes us—it reveals a possible danger and leaves us looking for a repeat. It takes away some of our security. It makes us look at the world (and our place in it) differently. After our building burned, I was certain that fire wasn’t finished with us. That having touched our home once, it now had an open invitation to come again.

With time, those fears have since started to disappear. I no longer get a sinking feeling in my stomach when a fire truck passes by. I don’t get as nervous when I smell smoke. I know that having a fire in our building doesn’t make us any more likely to have another one. But I still double-check that all the stovetop burners are off before I go out.

How and when did we finally get back into our home? All that (and more) in the next installment of “My Five-Alarm Life.”

“People should be very, very happy you’re here.”

After a fire broke out in the basement of 201 East 120th Street in Manhattan the afternoon of April 27, the Red Cross responded to the scene.

Suliman Snipes, who lived on the first floor, heard neighbors shouting ‘fire” and rushed out to safety. Outside, he encountered Red Cross responders almost immediately and was “very, pleasantly surprised.”

Snipes, who didn’t know about local Red Cross disaster response, received temporary housing and met with a caseworker at the Greater New York Regional headquarters in Manhattan for help with his longer-term needs.

“The Red Cross is fantastic,” he said. “Everyone is friendly and very professional. People should be very, very happy you’re here.”

My Five-Alarm Life: Moving On

By Aabye-Gayle D. Francis-Favilla

Photo: Ian Favilla

They say moving on isn’t easy. Well, they’d be right. My husband and I found ourselves “moving on” quite a lot after the fire in our apartment building. We were effectively nomads for almost a year. Most of our possessions were destroyed and would have to be replaced eventually. But our most pressing need was finding a place to live while our apartment was being rebuilt.

Finding a temporary home was difficult enough, but finding one that could accommodate our indefinite timeline was even more daunting. In fact, we didn’t find one, not just one anyway. It would take four temporary homes (and five moves between them) to fill the time between the fire and our return home.

First we moved in with my brother-in-law who lived walking distance from our Elmhurst, Queens apartment. We stayed with him for just the first two or three nights after the fire. Then we were taken in by two friends in a Union Square, Manhattan apartment with an extra bedroom for a month. And then, just as our time in Union Square was ending, through a friend of a friend, we found a place we could stay in for a few months—a beautiful one-bedroom apartment in Long Island City, Queens. It was time to move again.

With this next move, we got a bit creative. New York City had been inundated with snow, and as a result a good parking spot was hard to find. With alternate side of the street parking rules suspended, I could leave my car parked where it was indefinitely, so I devised a plan to move without moving my car—a plan that would remove the pressure and time-consumption of repeatedly looking for a convenient parking space in a snow-coated city. I decided to leave the car in Union Square until the final leg of the move.

Never underestimate the efficacy of public transportation. That’s how I made the majority of move three: Union Square to Long Island City (LIC). Instead of driving, I took the subway. I packed our stuff into a large, thick garbage bag to keep things clean and dry on the slushy streets, and then I put everything into a shopping cart.

Thankfully, both the Union Square and LIC train stations were a very short walk from their respective apartments. And I didn’t have to negotiate any stairs, because both stations were equipped with elevators. Once on the train I could relax and read for the thirty-minute (or less) ride (instead of dealing with NYC traffic—or drivers), and when I arrived at my destination, I didn’t have to spend time looking for a parking spot. The shopping cart was pretty big, but it still could only hold so much (much less than a carful). So, I had to make a lot of trips back and forth—but thank goodness for unlimited MetroCards!

What an odd first impression we must have made. I can only imagine what the doormen at the LIC apartment thought of us given how we moved in. On day one, they saw me coming in every hour or two with a full garbage bag-lined shopping cart. I must have made at least six or seven trips like that. I imagine I looked like a persistent hobo to them.

That weekend, they saw my husband and me bringing in closetful after closetful of dry-cleaning—everything from suits to undershirts to bed sheets. What they must have thought of that! And in the weeks (and months) that followed, they witnessed us receiving as many as four or five boxes of deliveries on a regular (almost daily) basis. Odder still, they didn’t see us bring in a single piece of furniture until we’d already been there for a month.

The apartment was already furnished with everything but a bed when we moved in. Our insurance company provided us with one, but it took a month for the logistics of that to be resolved. We slept on an air mattress that first month.

It was only later that we befriended the now understandably quizzical doormen and shared our situation: that there had been a fire in our building, that we were living nomadically until our apartment was rebuilt, that almost all of our clothes had gone to the dry-cleaners not because we were pretentious or lazy, but because they had a special process to remove the soot stains and smoke smell, and that all of the deliveries were due to us trying to replace as much as we could—everything from sneakers to shower curtain rings to books.

That Long Island City apartment was an oasis in our nomadic journey. It is where we spent the most time. We were able to grow roots there—however shallow. It almost felt like home. In fact, we thought we were almost home. That it would only be a short matter of time. Oh how wrong we were, but we didn’t know it then. Instead, we moved to Long Island City confident that this was our penultimate stop, and that our next move would take us back home.

As was our time in Union Square, our stay in Long Island City was full of blessings. First and foremost was that we could stay there for almost six months. Having such a long stretch of time there made our lives as a whole feel much less temporary and uncertain. We were able to build a routine and treat it as home—a home we didn’t have to share with anyone. Thanks to the generosity of our renter’s insurance policy, this was an apartment we wouldn’t ordinarily have been able to afford. We enjoyed the amenities that were luxuries to us: a doorman, a balcony, a gym, a view. There were also unexpected sources of entertainment: the pool table in the rec room and the impossible to ignore fights between the couple living next door.

All in all, we were happy. After the fire, everything had felt like it was happening in fast forward. Decisions had to be made, forms had to be filled out, we moved three times in the first two months. But with six months to get comfortable, it felt as though someone had benevolently pressed pause. Now we could find a reasonably paced routine for our lives and just live. We didn’t feel so much like victims anymore. We weren’t home yet, but we were closer. And that proximity made us feel more normal.

Some of our losses were intangible and took a bit longer to recognize, I’ll reflect on those in the next installment of “My Five-Alarm Life.”