O Beautiful for spacious skies

The past two days have been the most exciting I've had in a while. Monday at around 4 pm my dad and I climbed into my loaded down 96' Ford Contour (Julie) that has only a smidgen of life left in her and began our cross-country journey to Los Angeles. We drove through Indiana and Illinois and stopped in Missouri for the evening. My brother made this drive almost exactly 2 years ago but he made it all the way to Oklahoma City the first day, intent on making the most of his waking hours and getting to California as quickly as possible. My dad and I aren't concerned with time, though money is a tiny issue for we poor folk. We want to see the country and so far it's been absolutely incredible. I have been on four continents and in major cities around the globe but have never driven past Chicago, or been in any state past Illinois aside from California until now. I really had no clue how incredibly vast and breathtaking this country really is.

Monday night we stayed at the prestigious Congress Inn... or at least maybe it was when it was built some decades ago, but it was decent enough. After breakfast at the Cracker Barrel (maybe my favorite vacation restaurant) we headed into St. Louis and visited the arch. I flew over it a number of years ago when one of my first international trips had a layover in St. Louis but really knew nothing of the historical and cultural symbolism it held. As I stood before the 630 foot stainless steel structure representing the gateway to the west for travelers gone long before myself I realized it was the turning point in which I crossed into a new chapter of my very own life.

After checking out the museum for a tad we hit the road on into Oklahoma and spent the night in Oklahoma City. This morning we visited the cowboy museum (mostly for my dad) which was definitely one of the most well-done museums I've ever seen. It included absolutely beautiful gardens and countless exhibits including a done-to-scale western town where we asked some folks to snap this pic of us in the county jail.

After the museum I wanted to see the National Memorial for the victims of the Oklahoma City bombing. I don't know what I expected. For most of my life when I've heard mention of Oklahoma the first thing that came to mind was that horrific day. I was just about to turn 10 years old when and had stayed the night at my grandparents' house. I remember waking up to the continuous stream of images from the scene. My grandmother explained that some terrible person or people had set off a bomb killing many and injuring more. As I watched the scenes of rescuers pulling bloody shocked victims from the carnage and saw children even younger than myself I had so many questions. I didn't understand. Someone had done this terrible thing on purpose?


Visiting the memorial today was heartbreaking and eerie. Being in the place, in a city only slightly larger than Cincinnati, where on a regular morning people going about their regular morning routines had their lives shattered or lost put into perspective the way in which we take our own undisturbed routines for granted.

The symbolic memorial they've created does a great deal to honor the victims without erasing the horror and sadness of that day. The empty chairs stretched the length of the building represent the presence of the absence of those lost, with 19 small chairs for the children. On each end of the yard there is a gateway with a time engraved on it's face- one reads 9:01, the minute before the bomb exploded, the other 9:03- the minute after.



The survivor tree, as it has come to be known, was the only remaining tree around the building which actually caught fire when cars in the parking lot surrounding it did, the blackened bark evidence of its suffering and that which it witnessed. When first approaching the exhibit there was a charred odor in the air and though it is unlikely to be related to the blast now 12.5 years ago it triggered an even stronger emotional response.


The speaker we heard described 9:01 as the minute before innocence was lost. For me that took on even deeper meaning. At age 9 that bombing was the first real glimpse I'd had of pure unexplained evil. It was the beginning of the end of my own innocence and seeing it today solidified that.

Oklahoma City is no longer just a community of people who in my mind are constantly trying to overcome their worst tragedy. It is a unique, interesting place with friendly people that suffered an incredible, unimaginable tragedy the likes of which can never be fully understood by any normal human being. It will take much longer than 12.5 years for the wounds to fully heal from that awful event, proven by the man working at the cowboy museum who explained to us that his barber's granddaughter was the deceased child in the arms of the firefighter in the famous picture below. Yet the people of that city are united and strong, probably stronger for the grief they endured together. Their hope is visible and their kindness prevails. For Oklahoma and this country it was a historical moment that effected many lives and for myself it was a frightening glance at what pain life can dole out so unjustly.

Tonight we are camped out in the rather fine Comfort Inn in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. Traveling through Texas was beautiful and I can't wait to see what landscape rolls out before us on tomorrow's drive.

If you're American and you've never taken a cross-country drive I strongly encourage you to add it to your list of things to do before you die, and make it sooner than later.