On April 19th, 1995 I was in the fifth grade. My memories of that
day begin in the PPV gym, with its carpeted basketball court, a loud
scene full of kids and fun. This moment was interrupted by the principle
coming to get a classmate of mine and taking her to the office. By the
time, they made it to the big blue doors, leading out to the hall, she
was in tears. I knew then that something wasn't quite right. I would
find out later that her dad had been in the building next door to the
Murray Building and her mother couldn't get a hold of him. I am unsure
who had called the school and thought this was something a fifth
grader needed to know, but that's how it played out.
After
recess we were all brought back to Mrs. Watley's classroom, not my
normal room, where we found the TV in the corner turned on, with all the
teachers watching the horrific scenes from downtown Oklahoma City. The
rest of our day, and for many days that followed, we spent doing just
that, watching the horrific scenes from our home state. I remember bits
and pieces of the teachers trying to explain to us what was happening,
but the biggest thing that stuck out to me was that this wasn't
happening far away, this was happening here. And secondly I remember not
understanding why they kept pulling children from the rubble, "what
kind of big building, in downtown Oklahoma City would have little bitty kids in
it?" I would soon figure out that there had been a daycare in the basement of the Murray Building and nineteen small children lost their lives that day.
I watched all of the now iconic scenes play out, the fireman
carrying out the baby covered in ash, the red headed siblings, the men
and women running down the street, bleeding from all over, and all the heroic scenes of rescue workers carrying victims from the rubble. A few days
later I watched one of the men responsible for this terror being taken
out of a court house where I played on the lawn every year at the
Cherokee Strip Parade in Perry, OK. One of the most vivid memories I have was, what I think was days later, sitting on
the floor of the living room on evening, in the old house, watching the cadaver
dogs searching the rubble by emergency lights. I was helping
my mother fill film canisters with rice to make shakers for her
classroom. I distinctly remember the moment; the first in my short few
years of life, when I realized what evil was and came to fully
understand that it existed in the world around me. I lost a tiny bit of my innocence in
that moment.
For the next few weeks these images surrounded us here in
Oklahoma. It was all consuming as a child so I can only imagine how it
felt to adults and to the families directly impacted. Everyone was
impacted and had a story to go with it. Our family's story was that my
mother's cousin worked on the ninth floor, of the ten story building. He
was called out of the office around 8:30 that morning and the blast
happened at 9:02. Everyone knew someone who had a near miss or who lost
someone. The world gathered here and Oklahoma, this middle of nowhere,
middle of the country state, showed everyone how to handle tragedy. We showed the world how
to help your neighbor, how to support your community, how to deal with
all that follows, and to how rebuild with beautiful grace. People around
the world questioned if Oklahoma would be able to handle such a
terrible tragedy, but we rose gracefully to the occasion, setting what has become known as The Oklahoma Standard.
Before the building was torn down my parents took us to
Oklahoma City, "the city" as we called it, to see the site. We parked a
few blocks away and walked down to the bombing site. On our walk I
remember reading messages of encouragement for the first responders and
messages of pride about how our state responded. The windows in the
buildings leading up to the site were all blown out which I didn't
understand at the time, but the blast itself affected all of downtown
OKC. We saw what had been named the survivor tree, the small elm tree
that was across the street from the blast that was miraculously not harmed. It still
stands today, as a wonderful image of our state's strength. Once we got
to the actual site we came upon the now famous chain linked fence,
covered with mementos left by people who had come to visit or who had
come to help. I vividly remember that the moment I could actually see
the building it literally took my breath away. I
felt physically ill. As a twelve year old those sights, sounds, and
smells were a lot to take in. We spent along time reading the messages
on the fence and my memories from this point on in our visit are
complete silence. I'm not sure if everyone was silent or if in the shock
of it all just blocked everything out. The emotions were overwhelming and for the first time I can remember, in my short life, I truly felt empathy for everyone affected by this terrible tragedy. Before we headed home I left my childhood rosary on the chain link fence.



Everyone's life is marked by big events, not just personally
but nationally or internationally. For my parent's generation there was
Vietnam, MLK's assassination, Kennedy's assassination, and landing on the moon.
My generation's big life events started with the Oklahoma City
bombing. After the bombing, as I entered high school and started
attending national conferences, being from Oklahoma became something I
was passionately proud of. Sadly the Oklahoma City bombing is now just the
beginning of a list of tragedies that have marked my generation.
Columbine, 9/11, Iraq war, Afghanistan war, school shooting, after school
shooting, after tragedy.
Twenty years later I am amazed at the lasting impact the Oklahoma City Bombing has had on my life. Each time another national event takes place, and the images of tragedy fill our TV screens, I am taken back to that day, as an eleven year old child. Back to the first time I witnessed evil and am comforted to know that in the end the bad guys never win. In the end light will always drive out the darkness.
So twenty years later, as a show of support and in remembrance of all those lost, I will be running next Sunday in the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon Relay. I will be running a 5K leg a long with Zach, Abbey, Able and Kari. I have kept all of these memories close to my heart, reminding me what it is all about. I thought of the little kids who lost their lives that day, who would be in their twenties now, who aren't able to run. I am a not a fan of running so it has been a struggle, but I'm ready to take part of paying tribute to all those who were lost twenty years ago.
Able ran the entire marathon in 2010. I was honored to watch him finish such a lofty goal and so proud to stand at the memorial with him afterwards. That weekend was the last weekend I was home while dad was alive. Dad had a blast cheering Able on then and I'm sure he will be beaming with pride, cheering us all on from above, next Sunday!