I was going to write something completely different.
My idea was to comment on how far America seems to have strayed from those self-evident truths stated so eloquently by our Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence. I planned comparisons of the "long train of abuses and usurpations" which the Declaration's signers first recognized as evidence of absolute Despotism and some present-day "abuses and usurpations" that we as Americans find ourselves struggling with.
It was going to be good stuff. But that was before I went to Oklahoma City. A visit to Oklahoma City changed my perspective. It stopped me in my tracks.
The words on the bookend Gates of Time entries to The Oklahoma City National Memorial convey all that needs to be said here. "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 violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity."Comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity aren't necessarily what I expected to find at the site of the most significant act of domestic terrorism on American soil. I didn't expect a lot of what I experienced there.
Like the response to the event it was meant to commemorate, the Oklahoma City National Memorial grabs you and doesn't let go. Nothing is withheld. It's riveting and heartbreaking and angry and hopeful all in the same moment.
On the morning of April 19, 1995, Timothy McVeigh parked a rental truck with explosives in front of The Alfred P. Murrah Federal Buildingand, at 9:02 am, a massive blast sheared off the entire north side of the building, killing 168 people.
That's what I knew before visiting the Memorial. With each step I took, there was much more waiting to be learned.
The lesson begins outside. Across a Reflecting Pool at each end stand twin gates bearing a time-stamped frame of the destruction. The East Gate represents 9:01 am - the last minute of innocence before the attack. The West Gate represents 9:03 am, the time that changed us forever, and the hope and help began.
On the east side of the reflecting pool is The Survivor Wall, built from salvaged pieces of granite from the Murrah Building lobby and inscribed with more than 600 names of those who survived the attack. On the west side stands the The Survivor Tree, an American Elm, which withstood the full force of the attack. All the survivors of the attack are living symbols of resilience. Nearby is The Rescuers' Orchard, smaller trees which surround and protect the Survivor Tree. An inscription encircling the Survivor Tree facing the orchard reads: "To the courageous and caring who responded from near and far, we offer our eternal gratitude, as a thank you to the thousands of rescuers and volunteers who helped."
In the aftermath of the blast, children from around the world sent letters of encouragement to the people of Oklahoma City, represented at the Memorial by a wall of tiles in the Children's Area. You don't notice at first, but each tile features a small child's hand in brightly-colored paint. It takes your breath away. A perimeter fence was installed to protect the site of the Murrah Building after the bombing. More than 200 feet of the original Fence still stands and over the years, visitors have left more than 60,000 tokens of love and hope on the Fence, many collected and preserved in Memorial Archives. On the day I visited, church groups, families and motorcycle club members mingled easily together, leaving their own remembrances. The Fence is one of those places we all can come together. Moving inside to The Memorial Museum will take you on a chronological tour through the events of April 19, 1995, and the days, weeks, months and years that followed the bombing. Powerful exhibits entitled like "Confusion," "Chaos," "Rescue and Recovery," "Funerals and Mourning" and "Impact" leave you with a deep sense of the loss suffered here. There's hope too, in a gallery of Origami Cranes, and in the stories of the Survivors and through the work of the people of Oklahoma City who have rebuilt a community and remembered loved ones lost. The Memorial Museum is powerful in its ability to make you see and remember and feel. No matter where you were on April 19, 1995, you will be immersed in the emotions of Oklahoma City on that day. You will be present at the Oklahoma City Water Board meeting and experience the impact of the explosion through the only known audio recording of the blast. You will hear first-hand Survivor and Rescuer accounts. You will attend funerals and memorial services. During your time at The Memorial Museum, you are a citizen of Oklahoma City. I found myself returning several times to photos of The Alfred P. Murrah Federal Buildingtaken in the hours and days after the bombing. We've all seen those photos. For the first time in all the times I've seen those same photos, the word "scar" came to mind. The jagged "scar" across the front of the Murrah Building. The anguished "scar" on the faces of victims, survivors, families and rescuers. The terrible angry "scar" on our Nation. You will feel that same "scar" today when you stand at The Field of Empty Chairs. They stand in silence, 168 chairs in nine rows to represent each floor of the building, and each chair bears the name of someone killed on that floor. 19 of the chairs are noticeable smaller than the others - one for each of the children killed inside the Day Care Center on the second floor. Those 168 empty chairs stand silent and speak loudly. The people whose names are inscribed on the chairs are further memorialized inside the Gallery of Honor, where tributes to each are featured along with photos and personal momentos. The impact of the loss is heavy in this place. You know you are standing on sacred ground. If this Country has a Heartland, somewhere to discover our true selves, that place is a 3.3-acre piece of Holy Ground in downtown Oklahoma City. More than ever, right now, America needs to go Oklahoma City. Oh, and that other piece I was going to write? I had planned to finish with the closing line of the Declaration of Independence. I find its eloquence more in context here, and I offer it in memory of the events of April 19, 1995.
"With a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor."


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