In the weeks after witnessing the plane crash, I feel into a deep depression. Twice I felt I escaped death in such a short time. What had I done, or did not do ? How close were my children from losing their lives? Was I reckless? The questions were never ending, and impossible to answer. Depression is like that.
   As summer was coming to a close, my depressed state hung on. I began to follow the weather reports of Hurricane Andrew. In no way did I ever expect what I was about to experience.
   I endlessly watched the tv waiting to hear about how people were fairing after the storm. Not until Night Line on the 26th did the full impact become very real to me. An older woman was sitting on a cot, in the middle of what was her home. She told of her husband out searching for water. She was staring at the broken pieces of her possessions and said " I don't know where the food or water will come from, but somehow, we'll manage"
   Her words stuck me like a knife. I was in the food business, my area is rich in food processing/manufacturing. Why couldn't I call suppliers and collect bulk food to send?

   First thing Thursday morning, I rang phones all over the county. Everyone said yes.

I phoned the local Red Cross office to arrange transportation of the goods collected. I was absolutely speechless when I was told they would only be accepting money. Perfectly good food was being turned down? Berks Packing, alone, was offering 5 pallets of meat. Surely she could give me someone higher up the command line to speak with? No, she had no other options. There was a trucking firm who had called her office to offer to move goods, though. I snatched the name and began a new call.    Landis Transportation was offering to transport goods to Florida, as they had a load to return to Berks county.
   My phone started to ring, word was out to the general public about the collection. People wanted to do something but didn't know what. Most felt the money donated wouldn't reach the actual victims or would be greatly reduced until it got there. Georgio Foods offered another truck & driver. I opened the donations to the pubic and hunted a drop spot to load the trucks. A family friend offered his business, Pollard Tire with it's loading dock and large parking lot as a city collection spot. Collections were set for Saturday,the 29th, and Sunday, the 30th.

    Friday morning delivery's from businesses began to roll into Landis loading docks. One 48 foot trailer would be filled this day. Berks Packing 5 skids of salami, ham, and hot dogs. Clover Farms sent 4 pallets- 560 gallons of water and punch. Goodman Vending sent 15 cases of individual packets of crackers and single serve soups. Fleetwood Snacks 226 cases of cookies. Strohmann Bakeries 150 loaves of bread. Other items included, 6 cases of soda, 10 cases of commercial size, green beans, 4 cases of sweat shirts. Pacific Pride donated the fuel for the trucks.
    While the delivery's rolled in, the news was reporting problems with delivery to the disaster area. I phoned Kate Hale's office, she was the head of emergency management in Florida at the time. Her secretary, Lynn took my call. She put me in touch with a high school friend of hers, Doug Phifer, who was in charge of the Tamiami fairgrounds distribution. We connected via his cell phone, as no phone lines worked in the disaster area. He told me what things were needed and how they needed to be packed to be efficiently distributed. I assured him we would follow guidelines.
    I contacted Beacon container who donated 2000 cardboard boxes. I started to round up volunteers Friday afternoon to assemble the boxes and mark them for content. Boxes were sorted for content, by item, size and gender. The more organized we were in packing, the better the distribution would be when we arrived in Florida. I gave Reading Eagle/Times the press release indicating what specific items were acceptable, and bribed a disc jockey at the popular Y-102 to announce the collection every hour.
    Everyday in the paper, starting that Friday, there were Relief Columns following the progress that had been made for the day before. But the tv media and national news forecast a grim outlook for us to deliver our goods.
    Saturday 6am the volunteers started arriving. Local business's had donated employees to come help pack boxes and load the truck. Cars of people started lining up, at one point the line stretched 6 city blocks. Children of volunteers painted the side of the trucks with good will messages. Sandwich and pizza shoppes donated food for the volunteers.
    One moment that stands out in my memory, is a very old woman, walking with a cane, tugging a cart behind her. She came to me and handed me a can of beans and .75¢ and said "I got it bad, but they got it worse". The churches who collected at Sunday services fill the remaining space the truck had to offer us. It was packed so tightly, there were no air pockets what so ever.
    Monday morning, the trucks rolled out of Reading with police escourts. Y-102 announced the departure. Along with two trucks were four drivers and a reporter for the Reading Eagle/Times It looked like a parade as people lined Lancaster avenue to see it drive past. I kissed my kids and headed off to the airport, where my mom & brother were waiting to fly me to Daytona Beach, our meeting point with the trucks.
    September 3rd we set off to the fairgrounds at 4am. I rode in the Peter Built "Blue Magic", driven by Stuart. Four hours later, we approached Fort Lauderdale, where trucks carrying relief supplies were to stop. We pressed on. Rain was falling as we entered the fairgrounds. Doug Phifer met us upon arrival. After inspecting our donations, he gave us the choice of leaving our goods at the fairgrounds or delivering directly to the disaster area. Wanting to fulfill the promise made to those back home who donated, we decided to move on. Doug asked where I wanted to deliver to. I told him. "To the place it is needed the most". He told me the area of Perrine had been devestated but that no help had gone there to this point. He also told us, the area before the storm was very unsafe.
    He assigned the 82nd airborne to us, gave us a military escourt and off we went.
    Driving towards Perrine none of us could have imagined what we witnessed. The devestation was far worse than TV or snapshots could convey. We drove over power lines, downed tree limbs. Past malls that the roofs had caved in. Homes that were 'crooked', boats on lawns miles from any water source. We pulled onto a road, thru an iron gate and the jeeps stopped. On the left was what was left of the elementary school. Merely the front cinderblock wall, nothing else. On the right was what was left of a church and social hall, our destination.
    A soldier knocked on my door, and told us to stay in the truck until he returned. He was armed with what Stuart said was an automatic rifle, we listened. He returned some 20 minutes later, instructing Stuart where to make the attempt to back the truck up. He had another soldier with him, my 'escourt'. I was not to go anywhere with out him. The seriousness of the sitatuation starting to focus within me.
    I dropped (literally) out of the truck and a woman with a baby approached me. She asked if we had feminine products with us, she could pay us. I told her we brought many supplies and that she was welcomed to them. She started to cry. She told me her home was gone, her baby with no food. The stress on her was great. When Stuart backed the truck to it's unloading spot I took the young woman to the back of the truck, unlocked the door and got some supplies for her. She in turn told me she would get help for us to unload. Forty minutes later, her brother came to me with the church decon.

"This is gang area. These boys fight daily. Today, they lay down their colors to help their mothers and babies." In what looked like the front line to some football team, about 25 men came forward to help unload the truck of the boxes donated by the general public to the inside of the church social hall.
   

The 82nd airborne moved in behind us, bringing a church canteen with them. They worked like bees, setting up the makeshift kitchen, with tables and chairs. I went to find the women of the neighborhood, telling them to bring their children and elders for food. More Marine trucks arrived, one porta-potties on it, another with a bulldozer. The bulldozer started to clear an area of the debris that was on it. This was the heli-pad. Donated grills were set up and soldiers unloaded the salami loaves, which were cut into slices and cooked into salami steaks. Boxes of toys were placed in a cleared area for the children to pick through until they found a smile.

    Miami news crews arrived to film the 'effort that got through'. While kids sat at tables munching on hot dogs, crackers and cookies. Hugs from strangers, who some would have thought I should have feared. We are all humans with needs, sometimes we have to lean on others, and sometimes we need to help hold others up. That's what life is to me.

    I consulted a Pottstown drive for Hurrican Andrew relief in October '92 and I returned to Florida in December of '92 taking 2 additional trucks. One filled with specific request donations, the second filled with over 25,000 wrapped Christmas gifts. More than 3 county's participated in the "Operation Santa" drive. Children from 15 school districts connected to 'pen-pals' in the effected disaster area in and around Perrine and Cutler Ridge. Children in 12 Florida schools, all grades, received a toy and a traditional 'Class Christmas party', complete with Santa himself.