Letters

It is a cold evening tonight. However, as I am curled up in comfort with my cat at my feet, I feel the desire to respond to an article in this paper that I read this afternoon [“Noyac Couple Recounts Aid Trip to Arizona Border,” 27east.com, January 30].

This article brought up many feelings, as I so related to it.

My sister, Kathleen Werner of Sag Harbor, and myself spent two and a half weeks in April 2019 at the border in El Paso, Texas, doing much of the same work. We volunteered with Annunciation House, an agency that has offered services to newly arriving immigrants for decades. We heard of this opportunity to help through the Universalist Church in Bridgehampton, which highlighted the need.

Elissa McLean and Andy Winters, who were featured in this article, stated that they did not know the form their service would take initially — neither did we.

We arrived, walked in and observed in amazement the vast numbers milling around. We asked to speak to the director of the program, and a man was called over. He said everyone was so busy that there was no time for an actual orientation, and we should just “jump in.”

And did we ever. I have never worked so hard, both physically and emotionally, and such long hours in my entire life.

The people we helped had turned themselves in at the border. They did not “sneak” in. They asked for asylum. They were very tired and beaten down after walking for many, many weeks from countries where dreams cannot come true for them.

They were children, mothers, fathers, single men, all leaving their homes and families to come to the USA, their dream to be safe. We saw fear in their eyes, but also hope.

We saw children, initially dirty and scared, begin to smile after getting clean clothes from our supply room at the motel. Their smiles and laughter after they began to play with toys we volunteers brought was their gift to us.

We served hundreds of meals, held babies, played on the floor with children, gave out donated medical supplies, listened to stories, and again and again tried to instill hope.

I did not realize how this volunteer work affected me until I got home. We went to a program at the Bridgehampton library to speak of our experience. Both my sister and I broke into tears as we spoke of working with the immigrants we met.

I hope that wherever they are now, five years later, they found what they were dreaming of, what many immigrants — including my own grandmother, when she left Ireland — dream of. I hope they find safety, acceptance and a way to care for themselves and those they love.

Lorry Werner

Hampton Bays