American Red Cross (memories of our house fire)

The Haiti natural disaster and emergency relief efforts remind me of a harrowing experience when my grandparents' house caught fire with me inside. Thankfully, valiant fire fighters came to the rescue, and so did the American Red Cross.

Bedridden with flu, I was home from work when my 3-year old cousin harassed me with tears and cries for me to get out of bed. Dragging my ailing body from the bed to lock him out of my bedroom I discovered smoke billowing up the stairs. Unable to see down the hallway much less down the stairs, but refusing to run from the house in only a nightgown, I donned jeans, a blouse and shoes. Gagging from congested lungs, I raced into the bathroom to wet towels to swathe my cousin and myself for our great escape. Touching the wall for heat, I stumbled, fell and we tumbled down the stairs then crawled out the front door only to realize that my 67-year old blind grandfather was nowhere in sight.

I reentered the smoking building to the objections of passersby to find my granddad attempting to douse the flames in his Capitol Hill home. Unbeknownst to me, Papa found the toddler playing with matches, but he had no idea of the magnitude of the fire. After some trauma, we safely made it outside whereupon the loud sirens informed me that the D.C. Fire Department had been summoned.

The American Red Cross arrived too. Red Cross workers comforted us with blankets, liquid refreshment, information, resource options and vouchers to secure immediate lodgings. For decades I knew the Red Cross provided first aid training, sponsored swimming lessons and lifeguard certification but we had never formally met. Until then I had no idea that they represented legions of professional and volunteer persons who provided humanitarian relief services locally, nationally or internationally. And those generous donors contributed to emergency relief efforts with their money, time, and services.

That day the Red Cross organization rose to the stature of heroic fire fighters and paramedics. While they did not resuce us from the physical wreckage, they were there to offer succor to our bodies and spirits. We were under emotional siege amid a personal disaster. (Fire completely razed two rooms, burned its way through the hardwood floors and left the rest of the townhouse covered in soot.)

Later I learned of the organization's illustrious legacy of service. I discovered other facts too. But what I learned came in a distanct second to what I experienced--and it is what one does, matters most. The American Red Cross shows up!

The Red Cross, an iconic symbol of humanitarian service, has a permanent place in my heart. I invite everyone to support the Red Cross mission with your wealth: time, talent and resources. Here is my belated high five and high praise for the legions of volunteers. I am eternally grateful for their kind service.