In just a few weeks, Jack Via has come to know the tough, gritty underbelly of New York.
He has come to know its people -- their resilience, their vulnerabilities, their deep pride.
A volunteer minister with the Church of Scientology, Via roams New York greeting and listening to strangers and handing out pamphlets to those willing to accept them.
Although thousands of volunteers have cycled in and out of New York since Sept. 11, the 51-year-old Via left his dog, his roofing job and an apartment in Italian Village on Sept. 28 and hasn't looked back.
"I never thought about falling in love with New York City -- but I have,'' Via said this week. "There isn't anything too much more important than what's going on here now.''
Although time and a war abroad have shifted U.S. attention from New York, Via and a corps of volunteers from throughout the country talk of a city still very much on the mend.
That became devastatingly clear again this week with the crash of American Flight 587 in a Queens neighborhood already reeling from loss. Via said he and other Scientology volunteers walked the streets of the Rockaway Beach neighborhood "looking for anybody in need of help.''
When he arrived in New York, Via admits, he worried about the reception Scientologists might receive. The Los Angeles-based church founded in 1954 by the late science- fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard isn't universally embraced.
Scientologists say the religion's goal is to help people understand and improve their lives; critics accuse it of being cultlike.
At one point after Sept. 11, as many as 800 Scientologist volunteers had gathered in New York.
They employ what Via calls "spiritual'' first aid for those struggling with grief and dysfunction.
"We help people heal by getting the 'being' back in touch with the body or mind. It sounds simple, but it's very powerful.''
One method called a "touch assist'' is performed by passing fingers over parts of the body in a way Scientologists believe unlocks nerve channels, while getting the people to focus on something other than the disaster confronting them.
The volunteers ask two questions: Where did it happen, and where are you now?
Via grew up in Virginia and later moved to Florida, where he became a Scientologist. For three years before he came to Columbus in 1994, he traveled the eastern United States selling art at roadside stands.
Before his trip in September, he had last been to New York in the late 1980s. "It's a far different place from the noisy, thick-skinned city I remember.''
Via and the other Scientologists get food donated by area restaurants. An arrangement with the church allows him to stay free in a New York hotel.
As time has passed, the volunteers have fallen into a routine – traveling New York neighborhoods and trolling the subway.
"I talked to a lady in the subway in Brooklyn as I was passing out booklets there. She was grieving -- not for anyone she lost Sept. 11 but just over the situation in her life,'' Via said.
The woman had lost both her parents in recent years, and the brother who had been supporting her was injured and couldn't work.
"We talked for 45 minutes. We don't tell them what they need to think or how they feel or enter any comments of our own.''
He doesn't know when he'll return to Columbus.
His 6-year-old dog, Rikki, is in the care of the Capital Area Humane Society, which is trying to find a home for her and the three pups she gave birth to after he left.
Via laughs off a suggestion that he might not return from New York, but he does not contest it.
"I came here to help,'' he said. "This has been exciting, adventurous and emotionally touching.''