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My phone number has always been part information line. When you dial the menu of the Federation of Employment Guidance Services I am with Rehabilitation and Residential Services. But all that changed after September 11th 2001. My number was everywhere, a few feet high on a sign announcing emergency walk-in counseling outside our building, listed with LIFENET, in ads, on flyers and I got calls days, nights, and weekends. Giving information over the phone really is a responsibility. I believe that when people make a call to get help they need to be listened to and respected and receive accurate information. No matter what kind of mood I was in I was always pleasant and helpful when someone called for referral info. In fact people who were often in my office used to laugh at how quickly I could shift gears and be my "How can I help you" self. But after Sept. 11th the responsibility became awesome and often so sad that I would cry when I finished the call.

Late September

"I think I need some kind of help. I live at ground zero, I lost my business after Sept 11th because my students won't come down here for voice lessons. I have been serving food and helping the rescuers. I am here all the time and I'm afraid to stay and afraid to go."

"My husband is a rescue worker. He is there around the clock. When he comes home he won't talk about it. He can't sleep. I am so worried, I know he is going to crack."

November

"I worked across the street from the World Trade Center. I injured my foot walking home to Brooklyn. I had to have surgery and I have been laid off from my job. I am homebound now and very anxious."

December

"It took two days for my family to be reunited. My three children all go to different schools and my husband and I were at work. One of my children witnessed the buildings collapse from his school. He saw horrible things, I think we need help."

"I still can't live in my apartment. It is three blocks south of the site. Last month it was tested and was "hot" for asbestos. My friends all say I should be grateful to be alive, and I am, but I don't know if I can go back to my apartment. I don't know what to do."

January

"I see the clean up effort from my windows. Often there is white dust in the air in my apartment. It's better than a couple of months ago but it is still there. I can't relate any more to people who don't live down here. I think of them as outsiders."

I listen, I give numbers for counseling, for support groups, I suggest websites or other services, I sometimes give coping advice and I always say call me back if you don't get what you need. I return all the calls that are left on voice mail when I am not there or nights or weekends. I once discovered that I had forgotten to return a call and went through all my phone logs trying to figure out when this person called and what I had been doing that day and why I had thought I had called back but hadn't. Would she forgive me, would she forgive my agency? I don't always know what happens when we hang up.

Sometimes I know what happens to the caller. I know because I send someone out on a home visit, or they come to a support group or I do a workshop at their place of work. Lots of times I don't know. I don't know if they made an appointment for counseling or changed their mind. I know that sometimes people just feel better after the call. I know that some people get lots of numbers and when I call back they say "Who are you, I have called so many places, thank you for calling back." I know that when people call they are in pain and they feel helpless and I know that my voice, my tone, my listening skills, my patience, my attentiveness can make a difference. I know this because so many people say to me "Thank you for listening, you have helped me already. What is your name, thank you Ellen, bless you." That's what makes me cry. The telephone is a powerful tool…