The Events of Saturday, February 12, 2011

                The snow outside is no longer pretty. The melted snow has made slush of the beautiful, pure white snow banks. The perfect rise and fall of the snow covered hills are trampled with muddy footprints. Oh, well. Perfection doesn’t last forever, right? No matter how many times Caitlin organizes a cupboard; she does it again in a week. No matter how many times Ben may sweep the floor, Abby must sweep it again after the next meal. No matter how many times Mom and Daddy fill up the gas tank, they always have to do it again in a day or two. But, the sky is blue and cloudless and we got to open a new box of cereal this morning for breakfast. Isn’t that exhilarating?

                Driving through Oklahoma countryside is pretty for the first half hour or so, but then it seems like you are watching replays. Tree, rock, snow, car, rest stop, tree, rock, snow, car, gas station, lake, hill … So, after the first few minutes, noses are glued to books, bottoms to seats, and we each do our own separate activities. This very second as I write, Daddy is driving along the same highway we have been driving for the last hour. He swerves and changes lanes every so often so that he doesn’t fall asleep. (That’s what I think at least.) Abby is reading Warriors Don’t Cry for the second time in a row, Caitlin is slowly creeping her way through the merciless 689 pages of Gone with the Wind, and Ben is squinting in the sun as he reads This Present Darkness. Mom is lying on the back bed under a sleeping bag for warmth, (it is 46° outside), reading Piercing the Darkness and I am at the dining room table/Caitlin’s bed/family meeting room/where Daddy lays when we watch a movie, writing today’s blog. But, the trouble is, for the moment, I can’t write anymore, because I can’t really predict the future, crazy as that may sound.

                Once we got to Oklahoma City, we parked along the street next to a parking meter (it was free because today is a Saturday), and walked down the street to the Oklahoma City National Memorial Museum, the site of the April 1995 bombing. The museum was quite an experience. After purchasing our tickets, we rode the elevator to the third floor and started our slow journey down. The museum took us through the day, the normal start of any day, listing times and activities of people in and around the Murrah Building on that fateful day. Then we sat in a room and listened to a recording of a Water Board meeting that was taking place when it was suddenly interrupted by the explosion. We walked through movies, pictures, and exhibits about the chaos and hard work of firemen, paramedics, policemen, and medical volunteers. The heartbreaking stories of the survivors and the family members of those who didn’t survive really touched that place in your heart that made it ache for these poor people.

                Later, when we were eating dinner, we talked about what we liked and didn’t like about our experience. Overall, we had expected something very depressing about the evils of the world we live in, but instead we found hope. It was amazing how these people pulled together and really went out of their way for others; they let themselves lean on God and each other and helped everyone through the tough times. A few stories that we found especially touching were a story of a man who drove by in his car, parked his car, went up to a firefighter, pulled off his slightly worn work boots, gave them to the man, and walked back to his car in his stocking feet. That’s just amazing. Then, part of the museum was about the influence of the press and media. There were clips of newscasters saying how they needed people to donate blood for patients. The response was tremendous with people lining up for blocks and waiting up to six hours in line just to donate blood. Then, the media said that they needed flashlights and batteries to search for victims in the dark. The response was so great and caring that a half an hour later the media had to go back on the news to tell them to stop sending flashlights and batteries, because they had a surplus. I don’t know what the terrorist’s goal in this cowardly act was, but if it was to strike fear into the hearts of Americans, he ultimately failed. Instead, his actions caused our country and the entire world to show love and compassion for one another.

                After we finished the museum, we walked around outside where there were memorials in the shape of chairs that glowed at night for each of the 168 victims. There was also a reflecting pool between two very large metal bookends called The Bookends of Time. Before taking our leave, our final stop was the Survivor Tree. It was the only tree that survived the explosion and little more than a year after April of 1995, began showing signs of life. It sprouted leaves and branches and that American elm became the symbol of hope and how life does go on.

                We drove on towards Texas, but soon realized how long we had actually spent at the museum, that we had to still get dinner and that Texas was a ways away. So, Abby and Daddy went shopping and pulled together a sixteen dollar meal of fried chicken, two types of potato salad, coleslaw, and chocolate cream pie. Daddy found us a nice campsite midway between Oklahoma City, Oklahoma and Dallas, Texas and we drove until 8:30 that night. Then, after checking in and setting up, we headed to bed with dreams of the Cowboys and Indians that we would run into tomorrow in the “Wild, Wild West”, Texas.