Just a Memory

What is one to do when staying the evening in Oklahoma City? Alone.

Not much - that's for sure. But then my day started at 04:45 with a buzzing of the head, a shower and bowl of cereal and out the door less than an hour later. Followed by a succession of flights, and a 90 minute ride in the filthiest rental car I've ever had (fyi - Hyundai Accents are for shit!).

But work ended around 16:45, followed by the 90 minutes back to civilization. Blobby was hungee, as he hadn't eaten since that bowl of cereal, but he needed to do something before getting dinner.

It was not quite sunset, but only 45 minutes away. So I headed to see the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. I felt I should, since I was in town.

Not many were around on a late Friday afternoon. The setting was serene. Beautiful and tragic all at once. Quiet and tense.

The plot of land is flanked by two entrances (if you will). One reading 9:01 the other, 9:03. The first being the minute before and the latter being the minute afterwards.

The sun did not let me capture the time very well in this photo very well. It didn't let me capture the other gate at all. I just liked the reflection in this picture.

The time shows up better here.



There is a chair for every person who died on that day. As many were children in an on-site day care, you can see those represented by smaller chairs. The bases light up at night, but I didn't stay past sundown.

This showed a number of the chairs, but it was hard to capture the entire range with an iPhone camera. I'm sure an SLR with a good lens could have gotten a great shot. I do like the sun coming through the trees.

I'm glad I went. It was a quiet place, but like I said, filled with angst. Maybe that was just me though. It is hard to believe it has been 15 years.
I sit in my hotel room now writing this and watching a station for OKC in a video loop...with smoke and fire coming from the now demolished building. Now only stands, grass, trees, water and a simple token that life once was there.


Song by: Marti Jones