By Jonann Brady
"I know that's not him in there," said Sivin-Miller, picking up the small vessel. "It's probably filled with asbestos."
The wooden urn sits on a table in her living room, along with a folded American flag, both of which she was given at the Family Memorial Service for World Trade Center victims on Oct. 28.
The urn and the flag are not the only reminders of what was taken from her Sept. 11. She is reminded of her loss every day as she makes phones calls, gathers documents and sometimes travels into Manhattan to put her husband's affairs in order and figure out how she will make ends meet now that he is gone.
The Baldwin resident is not alone. Thousands of families lost breadwinners in the terrorist attack that killed over 5,000 people. Hundreds of other people lost their businesses and their jobs. After the attack, the American Red Cross raised $543 million to help affected families, but announced it would not distribute the whole amount, and instead would steer some $200 million into a reserve fund for future use.
Just last Friday, after howls of protest from the public, the Red Cross announced it would use the entire fund for families, distributing $275 million by Dec. 31. In January, the organization will present a plan detailing how the remainder of money will be used.
Sivin-Miller, a real estate broker and part-time Hebrew school teacher, was pleased by the announcement, if a little wary. "I guess I'm as happy as I can be with the Red Cross," she said. "I have to trust that it will be efficiently and fairly given out."
At this point, though, her patience is wearing thin. She not only has to deal with the Red Cross, but incessant minutia from canceling her husband's credit cards to haggling with Workman's Compensation. "The follow up is endless," she said. "I've spent at least three hours a day for the last two months dealing with it. This is what I do every day."
Sivin-Miller has traveled twice to the Pier at 54th Street and 12th Avenue in Manhattan, a city-run, one-stop information center for victim's families. There, families do everything from register missing persons reports to apply for funding.
Though she appreciates the compassion she has received from the Red Cross and other relief organizations, she is tired of the disorganization and almost embarrassed by what, at times,
can feel like begging.
"You go to the Pier with your attache case," she said and produced the case where she keeps a three-ring binder filled with her paperwork. She flipped through the laminated pages, neatly set off by labeled tabs. The first page is her monthly budget. Next are copies of social security cards, Joel's birth and death certificate, his Army discharge papers, their marriage certificate, utility and phone bills, pay stubs, and on and on.
"You better know your P number, whatever that is in English. They always want your P number. And you'd better have it this organized," she said.
Sivin-Miller had faxed 22 pages of documentation to the Red Cross, and then was told over the phone she needed to sign a mysterious "green card" at the Pier in order to receive a check. There, she navigated a labrynthian maze of booths by herself, spending a total of 10 hours talking to lawyers, counselors and charity workers trying to find out how to get the money all victims' families were promised. Soon after, she received a one-time, $27,000 check from the Red Cross.
As she told her story, her telephone rang and the answering machine came on. It was someone from Workman's Compensation telling her to disregard the previous instructions she was given. "I knew she was wrong," said Sivin-Miller, shaking her head. Another indication of what she calls the "ping-pong" her days have become.
"The Red Cross stood me up last Friday," she said. The group was planning to send four people over for a home visit to check on her status. She made a pot of coffee, but they never showed. "I don't really know the premise of their visits."
They have offered her extensive counseling, but that's not what she needs right now. "I've had counseling offers up the you know what. I haven't had time to be counseled."
At 52, she is worried about her future and spends her days trying to cobble together a financial cushion: $27,000 from the Red Cross, $1,500 from a group called Safe Horizons, $750 from the Salvation Army, $1,000 from the Veteran's Administration, $1,000 from a Buddhist organization.
Joel had a small life insurance policy and she will receive three months of pay and one year of health insurance from Marsh and McLennan, where he worked, but it doesn't seem like enough as the years stretch in front of her.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said. "I hope I don't have to sell my home. At 52 years old, there's no way I can make what my husband made. I don't want a free ride
