Minneapolis shows why it's rated No. 1 in volunteerism

"We had one gal that came in yesterday offering to give foot rubs to officers or anyone who had been on their feet for long periods of time," says Mr. Morris.

Not all offers from the thousands of callers could be readily taken, leaving those yearning to give their time in the first 72 hours a little frustrated.

"I tell people, if this is something you want to do, go to your local Salvation Army and sign up to get training to be a local disaster volunteer," says Annette Bauer, community-relations director with the area Salvation Army. "Four months down the road, people emotionally won't feel as compelled. So we try to get them to sign up now in the moment."

The deep experience the of others on his team impressed and energized Alan Brankline, a longtime volunteer grief counselor with the Red Cross. He spent days comforting the families of the missing. "I felt I could do the work because I was there with colleagues who were just as trained and experienced."

He characterized the grief in this disaster as focused on feelings of bewilderment. The families were asking, "How could this be happening in the United States of America, in Minneapolis? A bridge is not supposed to collapse." However, they weren't looking for blame or lashing out in anger, he says.

More blood drives and fundraising

As the work of the first responders winds down, more opportunities open up for the less experienced to lend a hand. Businesses, churches, and schools are already inquiring about hosting blood drives. And those holding community concerts and art events plan to raise money for the Salvation Army.

One family drove two hours Saturday to stand with a Salvation Army kettle in the pouring rain at a Minneapolis arts fair. "It's such a little thing that we did, but I just don't know what else you can do," says Lynelle Parker of Mora, Minn.

One of her high school friends, Greg Jolstad, was a construction worker on the bridge who remains among the eight missing. She remembers "Jolly" most for his humor. "People stopped to talk with us, and I told them that I do have a friend that's still missing, and I think that it really touched them, too."

Ms. Parker's 11-year-old daughter, Abby, originally had the idea to do something more than sit and watch the news: "I have diabetes and I know it's nice to know that people are raising money for me."

Woven throughout the reflections offered over the past week during church services, rallies, and by onlookers on the riverbanks, has been the metaphor of rebuilding "human bridges."

"We need bridges between people," says Kathy Hintz, explaining why she came out for a prayer vigil held Sunday night. "We have to trust each other because other people made these cars and these bridges. It's pretty amazing that anything works as well as it does. And if you can't trust each other, you can't have a community."

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