Deep in the Heart of Oklahoma

Seventeen years ago, Timothy McVeigh (& Terry Nichols) decided to drive a moving van full of fertilizer explosives onto the property of the Alfred P. Murrah building in Oklahoma City.

Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building Before
Photo credit: Wikipedia.com

Seventeen years ago, the state trembled.

Following the explosion.

Photo credit: MIPT.org

Seventeen years ago, one hundred and sixty eight innocent people including 19 children, were ripped from their families.

After
Photo credit: chicagotribune.com

Seventeen years ago, I was supposed to be in that building.

It was 8th grade. Life was awkward. My-So-Called-Life, Looney Toons T-Shirts with the characters dressed like Kris Kross, and boys were just starting to enter the picture. 

I am sure I was wearing my Bum Equipment t-shirt with wind pants or quite possibly a silk shirt and colored jeans when I walked into school that day. It was like any other day, however, we had just returned from a trip to Oklahoma City with my Mom, her boyfriend at the time, B and his son, (one of my best friends) G.

Mom had a court case in the federal building that day before so G and I went to hang out while she did what she needed to do. We joked with the front desk security guard, an old man who like to tease, and ran around like we owned the place. When Mom was finished, they told her to return the next day at 9am. 

No big deal. We would stay the night. G’s dad had something going on at the Capital and we decided to spend the remainder of the day there, ending the day with some yummy yummy BBQ. That’s when Mom got a call. They said, don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, they could finish what they needed to do via fax or mail. 

Thinking about us, Mom and B decided heading home to make sure we made it to school that Wednesday. And we couldn’t have been more blessed.

The next morning at 9:02am, just two minutes after we were supposed to be waltzing into those front doors, the front of the building was completely blown to pieces. 

Televisions were pulled into our classrooms and I am not quite sure what  the other kids were thinking. I am not sure if cried at school. I am not sure really what happened the rest of the day; it is a blurred memory. I do recall going home to phone my Dad that night and crying to him, “We could have died.”

I think back of those other families that weren’t so lucky. Those hundreds of people that are still missing someone they lost that day. I think of the responders. I think of Baylee, the baby that was carried out of the rubble by the firefighter and captured in a photo only to die moments later in his arms and how she would be preparing for college. I think about the nice security guard whose photo I saw on the news as one of the deceased. I think about families who head to the memorial to hug the chairs and remember their family.

When I can, I visit the national memorial in Oklahoma City to honor those who did not make it out of that building alive. In a couple of weeks, I head home to the "pan" where we plan to take Hutch to the peaceful sight that was once violently shaken due to terrorism. 

Seventeen years ago was the first time I was spared and I believe I am still here to do great things. 


Oklahoma will never forget April 19, 1995.
I encourage you to visit the site and the museum if you have never been. It is life-changing.