Oklahoma City

So much for blogging everyday in December, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it last night.  I think I might have enough to say right now though to count for two posts (or more).  That is, if I can find the words.

I’m just leaving Oklahoma City, a place I had never been before yesterday, but before visiting felt some sort of strange connection to.  Shortly after the Oklahoma City bombing, and while I was newly pregnant with Nicholas, I was working for a temp agency in the Federal Building in East Hartford.  There were regular emergency drills there and everyone seemed to be on edge because of what had happened at the Murrah Federal Building, fearing that history would repeat itself in Connecticut. 

While I really don’t believe in premonitions, a few years ago, I had a vivid and eerie dream about the OKC memorial, specifically the empty chairs.  The next day, my Dad called me to tell me he had taken a position with a company based in Oklahoma City.  I had no idea he was even interviewing. The memorial looked amazing from the news reports. I knew that someday, I had to see it in person.

A mediation in one of my cases took place today in OKC, and I flew in a little early on Sunday so that I could visit the museum.  OKC seemed to me, a place that dealt with inexplicable tragedy and somehow rebounded in a positive and meaningful way.  I thought maybe I could learn something from that experience that might be helpful to the people of Newtown, CT.

I’m not sure if it is officially being categorized in this manner, but I absolutely classify the mass-shooting to be an act of domestic terrorism.  Terrorism is defined by dictionary.com in pertinent part as “1. the use of violence and threats to intimidate or coerce, especially for political purposes. 2. the state of fear and submission produced by terrorism or terrorization.”  As I sat in my hotel room, I got the news flashes on my iphone from WFSB that indicated that threats had been made against the Bristol school district, followed up by another newsflash that the Ridgefield schools were in lockdown.  I would be lying if I didn’t admit to being afraid for Nicholas’ safety.  I was questioning the wisdom of sending him to school to take his midterm exams, and also questioning whether I should really be 1602 miles from home (yes, I mapquested it).  If that isn’t terrorism, I don’t know what is. 

On my way down to OKC, I messaged my Facebook friend, Marcie.  While I went to high school with her, I am calling her my “Facebook friend” because without Facebook, I would not have known that she was in OKC, nor would I have known that politically we seemed to have a lot in common.  For sure, I knew we both liked the Yankees, but I had found myself “liking” many of her status updates.  To that end, I probably know her better now that I did back in the early 90s.  She offered to come along on my journey through the memorial.  She warned me ahead of time that it would not be uplifting, but I really didn’t appreciate that statement until our evening came to a close.

The museum connected to the memorial is housed in what used to be the Journal Record Building, which was adjacent to the federal building and sustained significant damage due to the bombing. As you walk in, you are greeted with a plaque that reads:

We come here to remember those who were killed,

those who survived and those changed forever.

May all who leave here know the impact of the violence.

May this memorial offer comfort

strength, peace, hope and serenity.

The museum is incredible.  At one point they put you in a room and close the doors and you hear an actual audio recording of when the bomb went off.  There are artifacts, pictures, and testimony from those who survived, and from family members of those who did not.  There is a room which is preserved with actual damage from the bombing. I don’t want to give away too much in case you haven’t been and find yourself there one day, but you truly get a sense of who was killed, who was injured and how those that survived found the strength to carry on.

There was a daycare center on the second floor of the federal building.  Of the 168 people killed, 19 were children.  In the Newtown tragedy, we lost 26, 20 of which were children. 

The outdoor portion of the memorial is breathtaking.  The survivor tree is an American Elm that was damaged in the blast and contained many pieces of evidence following the bombing.  It was one of few sources of shade downtown. When it was determined that the tree had to be part of the memorial, steps were taken to ensure its health and it began to thrive.  It is said to be a symbol of human resilience. There is an inscription around the base of the tree that reads “The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us.”

There are 168 empty chairs arranged in 9 rows, in front of a still reflecting pool.  There is one chair for each person that died with his/her name inscribed. The row each chair is placed in corresponds to the floor that the person was believed to be on during the blast.  The chairs are symbolic of the empty chairs at the dinner tables and the void left in families and in the community by the loss of those individuals.  The little chairs, scattered mostly about the second row, are for the children.

The museum in and of itself is sort of a time capsule.  Artifacts include older telephones, VHS tapes, computer monitors that would take up half of a desk. Not that I recommend taking a child of tender years (I do not), but Jack would not understand what many of these things are.  Technology has changed at an incredibly rapid pace since April 19, 1995. CNN was the only news network and people were not instantly posting pictures from cell phone cameras on social media websites.

 The other thing that seems to have changed is the frequency and intensity of attacks on our country both domestic and foreign. It is becoming so common that Nick actually said he was not surprised when he found out about Newtown. He was three when we were all in shock over Columbine, and he was five when we witnessed the 9/11 destruction. There have been multiple incidents all over the country since then. The world Nick has grown up in seems so much more violent than the one I did.

I know the rest of the country and the world is shaken by what happened in Newtown, but I wonder if they are grieving the way those of us from Connecticut are.  Newtown is so much like all of our towns, so much like Colchester.  Any one of us could have gotten that horrible visit by Governor Malloy last week. Those twenty beautiful children are our children.  This was an assault on every single one of us.

Even beyond the question of why Sandy Hook Elementary school was attacked, there are so many others that need to be explored in the coming weeks. Where do we go from here? Are any of us safe?  Am I willing to forgo some basic freedoms to ensure the security of my children?  How do we keep from becoming a military state?  Even the NRA whose members are often maniacal about the right to bear arms have been unusually quiet since Friday.  I am almost always the first person to defend our First Amendment Freedom of Speech even in obscure situations.  I understand that sometimes you have deal with the unfortunate (i.e. flag burning) to secure freedom of expression for everyone.  Even I have limits.  That hate group that protests military funerals (I won’t even give them the courtesy of mentioning them by name) has threatened to protest the funerals of the innocent Newtown children.  Excuse my language, but if those assholes show up in Connecticut, I can promise you I will be part of a human wall to keep them from the grieving families. 

The balance for freedom v. safety was fully illustrated before me this evening.  I am still nursing Vivian.  When I am not with her, I pump milk for her for when I get home.  Tonight, the milk tested positive for explosives – this is not the first time.  What did happen for the first time, is that when they patted me down, I also tested positive for explosives.  I am probably one of the most non-violent people you’ll ever meet.  I have no idea where to even obtain explosives.  I won't go into details about what happened next but I can tell you that I was detained, albeit briefly, it was long enough to miss my flight.  The TSA agents took their job somewhat seriously although I believe they recognized that I wasn't actually a threat.  I decided to fully cooperate because I really just wanted to get home tonight.  I did start to wonder what would happen if I wasn't cleared.  It was getting late in the day. Would I have had to spend a night in a federal prison while this all got sorted out?  I am happy that I didn't have to find out the answer.  I can only hope that whatever procedures are in place, make the skies a safer place.  Although admittedly, I have my doubts.  What is almost funny about this is that Marcie mentioned that the Will Rogers Airport is a TSA training facility and that it can take an inordinate amount of time to get through security.  That was at least the second thing she was right about yesterday, and I am sure there are many more things.

So, what did I learn from Oklahoma City?  I learned that the path for dealing with tragedy has already been paved for us by those that have been through similar things. I learned that beyond tragedy there can be peace; that as the phoenix arose from the ashes so will Connecticut. I learned that those makeshift memorials people leave in the road, on fences, mean something to the survivors. I didn’t really understand their significance until this weekend. 

I learned that the people of Newtown will need some sort of memorial where loved ones, friends, and spectators can go to grieve, to remember, to reflect. Schools throughout Oklahoma collected almost half a million dollars in pennies when they asked each student to bring one penny for each person lost in the bombing.  That would be a simple way to help Newtown.

After the Oklahoma City bombing, and after many school shootings, survivors were given teddy bears to hold onto for security.  Teddy bears are being collected through Operation Fuzzy Wuzzy II in the hope that there will be one for each student when the elementary school reopens in Monroe.  It looks like the response for donating bears has been overwhelming, and the link contains information on making a monetary donation if you are interested.

I  bet you didn't think I'd work Lewis into this post....

As we did after Oklahoma City, after Columbine, after 9/11, after Aurora, and all the tragedies since and in between, we will and have come together to support the families as they work through this unimaginable grief.  We absolutely have to figure out what is so inherently wrong in our society that these things keep happening.  We have to stop the madness.  We have to say never again, but we have to be angry enough to really mean it this time.