[Congressional Record Volume 147, Number 147 (Tuesday, October 30, 2001)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1939-E1940]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                           WASHING AWAY GRIEF

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. STEVE ISRAEL

                              of new york

                    in the house of representatives

                       Tuesday, October 30, 2001

  Mr. ISRAEL. Mr. Speaker, this article appeared in Newsday on Tuesday, 
October 23, 2001, on page A7. I would like to sincerely thank and 
commend Jean Gioglio for her generosity and kindness in donating her 
son Michael Gioglio's clothes to the World Trade Center rescue workers.

                           Washing Away Grief


        Mother donates deceased son's clothes to rescue workers

                            (By Nedra Rhone)

       It was nearing some ungodly hour, and as rescue workers 
     labored at Ground Zero hoping to find traces of the missing, 
     Jean Gioglio labored over her washing machine.
       Suds from a homemade cocktail of detergent and disinfectant 
     bubbled about and the piles of clothing seemed to grow before 
     her eyes, but she was determined to finish. The weatherman 
     had predicted rain for the next day, and Gioglio wanted to 
     get the clothing to rescue workers by morning.
       As the machine rumbled in her Bay Shore home, Gioglio wrote 
     a letter. ``I cannot fathom how you have the strength to 
     carry on, but from the bottom of my heart, I am grateful to 
     you!!''
       Into every sleeve, every trouser leg and each pocket she 
     tucked the note explaining exactly where the items came from. 
     ``These are Mike's clothes; you see, he doesn't need them 
     anymore . . . he died three years ago . . . I've asked 
     Michael to be your guardian angel.''
       Michael was Gioglio's 19-year-old son. And in the three 
     years since his death, she has held on. Held on to his 
     clothing, his possessions, his life. Two nights after the 
     attack on the World Trade Center, Gioglio was ready to let 
     go.
       ``It hurts me that I'd been holding on to Mike's clothes. I 
     was thinking about how tired the rescue workers must be, how 
     shocked. I was stuffing letters into the shirts and just 
     wanting them to put them on, find that piece of paper, and 
     not feel anonymous,'' Gioglio said.
       When Michael Gioglio was 16, Timothy McVeigh bombed the 
     Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. ``He 
     wanted to jump on the plane right then,'' Gioglio said. He 
     wanted to help the rescuers there in what was then the worst 
     act of terror in America. ``He was too young, how could I 
     just take a kid into that environment?''
       Michael gave logical reasons, Gioglio said. He was strong, 
     level-headed and willing to follow direction, he told her. 
     But the answer was still no. Michael never said another word 
     about it.
       Then, three years later, he committed suicide, and with 
     time, Gioglio started the process of healing. But she never 
     was able to part with her son's belongings.
       ``Being surrounded with Mike's things made it a little more 
     comforting,'' she said. ``It gave me a feel for what was.''
       Michael was an athletic young man. The walls of his bedroom 
     still display the more sentimental reminders of his life--
     football photos, lacrosse pads, a golf iron.
       People told her that when the time was right to let go, she 
     would know. It just never seemed to come.
       Until the moment in mid-September, when Michael had a 
     second chance to help. She found herself in his old room 
     pulling long-forgotten clothing out of drawers and closets. 
     ``Humanity is dying,'' Gioglio said about her sudden 
     motivation, ``and the simplest things are going to get all of 
     us to a better place.''
       It had taken years for Gioglio to get to this point, but as 
     she packed her son's belongings, which had remained in his 
     bedroom untouched, her state-of-mind surprised her.
       ``I was comfortable with it; I'm not heartbroken at all,'' 
     she said.
       In fact, it felt as if Michael had tapped her on the 
     shoulder and told her to do something, she said.
       Family members who had watched Gioglio grieve over the 
     years thought it was wonderful that she was able to give away 
     her son's material possessions, Gioglio said.
       ``Sometimes people need something, some significant event, 
     to jump-start some type of healing or resolution,'' said Jill 
     Rathus, associated professor of psychology at Long Island 
     University's C.W. Post campus. The World Trade Center attack 
     may have helped push Gioglio to the next phase of healing.
       The tragedy could have many different effects on people who 
     previously experienced

[[Page E1940]]

     the loss of a loved one, Rathus said. For some it may prove a 
     setback, with the event serving as confirmation of their 
     already altered world view and flooding them with painful 
     memories. Others, like Gioglio, may believe their mourning is 
     shared and find a greater sense of community with those now 
     experiencing loss.
       On Sept. 22, Michael would have turned 23 years old.
       ``I know there would have been no stopping him now,'' 
     Gioglio said.
       Her son was no bleeding heart, she said, but he did care 
     about animals, the environment and kids.
       ``You wouldn't pick him out in a crowd and say `He's a 
     humanitarian,' '' Gioglio said, ``but he is there quietly in 
     the background doing what he can.''
       This time, his work in the background offered some form of 
     comfort to weary firefighters, police officers and emergency 
     workers.
       Piece by piece, Gioglio ironed, folded and labeled 
     Michael's clothing, bundling size 34 pants and large-sized 
     sweatshirts into neatly wrapped piles that she delivered to 
     Island Harvest, the Long Island based organization that 
     maintained a warehouse for donations.
       ``It just stood out because it was clear that somebody went 
     through a lot of trouble to make sure this was going to get 
     to the firemen,'' said Tom Waring, president of the group, 
     whose volunteers organized about 300,000 pounds of tools, 
     medical supplies, food and clothing. Waring later called 
     Gioglio to thank her.
       It was pouring rain the day local volunteers distributed 
     Michael's clothing to rescue workers. A number of people 
     called or wrote letters that same day to say, yes, her note 
     really had helped them feel better.
       One rescuer had just wiped the soot from his face and arms 
     with baby wipes and reached for Mike's clean, dry shirt, when 
     the letter fluttered out.
       ``He said to me, `I want to run home and hug my kids, but 
     first I wanted to tell you that this is definitely a hug from 
     yours,' '' Gioglio said.
       She believes that Michael is there at Ground Zero--
     hopefully as a guardian angel to workers doing the job he 
     once dreamed of doing.
       ``Letting go of Mike's possessions, I believe, is somehow 
     sending out the troops,'' Gioglio said. ``Maybe I bit off 
     more than Michael can chew, but we definitely have him on the 
     case.''

     

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