Falling Thoughts

Such a beautiful morning.
Like that first one
Blue, blue sky
And bright, bright sun.
Small teasing breeze
Sifting through the trees
Children laughing, at play
Just as it was that day

That day before the loud
Shocking
Sickening sound
Of hate spilling over
The heart of our city
Wounding and killing
Evil without pity.

But this place
Defies that hate.
This place, like our city,
Is filled with love
And with pity,
Charity,
Mercy,
Peace.

It pours over you
As you walk
This quiet, lovely spot
Where once there was
Pain and destruction.
Finally I have the
Lovely image of this peace
Instead of the end of that
Ravaged building
In my mind.

I needed to see this,
Needed to actually walk here
To make peace with the sorrow
To no longer see
That ruined place
When I look up from the church cloister
So nearby.
Far too nearby.

Sleep well, dear beloved souls.
Dear little ones
Two of whom,
I knew their Aunt.
I still weep
Sometimes
For the potential lost.

This truly is the heart
Of this city,
Indeed,
Of the state.
The love poured out
On those who suffered loss
On those who came to help
On each other to see us through.
April 19,1995
Was the day I became an Oklahoman.

To See Changes
C.K. Armistead
9/24/16

I am still not adept
At reading subtle
Changes in the seasons
For I grew up without them.
Seasons, that is.
It is a new art for me
To pick out which details
I see and discern
What is to come
What I can learn
From the fact that
The south wind today
Is both warm and cool
The caterpillars I see
Are all
Well covered in  thick wool.
The pecan tree out back
Is generously throwing
Nuts around.
Which the squirrels are
Both eating
And hiding
With frenzied abandon.
The sycamore trees
Seem out to get me
Throwing pollen-laden
Ball bearing bombs
At me
To roll my ankle
And/or make me sneeze.
No leaves have turned as yet
No cool nights as yet have
Blessed us
But the calendar says
Fall has begun.

 Journal entry: Sept. 22, 2016

I stood this day upon sacred ground.
Ground where innocents were injured and killed
Where a community's innocence was lost.
I stood,remembering little ones I had never met,
but whose loss still made me weep.
I found the name of a friend on the Survivors list,
and offered a little prayer of thanks
That she survived,
That she is still here
To tell her story,
To be loved, to be my friend,
And my sister in Christ.
She, who stood with me at my Confirmation at St. Paul's,
Our church, just two blocks away.

The place is beautiful,
It is amazingly quiet
In spite of the city teeming all around it.
Every Sunday, and most Wednesdays for the past 21 years,
I have passed this place, spent time in its shadow,
In the shade of all that happened that day.
My church family survived a journey in the wilderness -
Worshiping in our parish hall for almost 2 years while our beautiful
Cathedral was rebuilt.
So much time has passed, but sometimes,
Especially when I walked into that sacred space of the Memorial,
It seems so fresh, I feel it all again.
There are children who have grown up, and new members of our church family, who do not remember that day, that time.
The horror, the hurt, the confusion is alien to them. The museum helps.  It makes that moring live again, gives visitors a sense of how ordinary the day was- 
Until 9:02 am, anyway, and how after that,
Nothing here was ever the same again,
Especially us.


My husband made his first visit to the Memorial today.  He hasn't been there since he worked as a volunteer with the contingent sent from Tinker AFB to help remove rubble.  I think he found some measure of peace with the fact that healing has happened in that place, that all the hands that came to help were appreciated and added to the love that surrounded our wounded heart that day, and in the weeks following.

Lovely, Sad April Once Again

April is a month that makes us feel vulnerable here in the Oklahoma City metro area.  No major tornadoes to remember this month, but bad storms, and the chance of tornadoes appears in April usually after a winter respite. 
No, April's lovely soft sunny mornings have been clouded for us by a memory of evil.  A memory that was burned into our hearts on April 19, 1995.  It was such a beautiful, sunny, pleasant morning.  Then the news reports started coming out about an explosion downtown.  The smoke visible on the horizon.  The worry about friends we knew worked down there.  The fear for the children we knew in the YMCA daycare near there, the church, which is only a block or two away.

I watched the news that morning in shock and with dread.  I saw familiar faces, most just in obvious shock, but one with blood on it.  It still hurts, to think about the damage to so many lives caused that day, the children lost, the sense of security we lost.  The many, many scattered pieces of our lives in downtown that had to be picked up and reassembled as best we could. 

Our church had significant damage, and it took us many years to complete all the restorations.  We never lost the most important thing, though, our love for one another, and our sense of God's love.  We are still in downtown, and we are still thriving.

Perhaps that is true of everything downtown, we are put back together physically, and for the most part, spiritually as well.  The Oklahoma City National Memorial has helped a lot with that sense of putting ourselves back together.  It is a very healing place.  A very peaceful and beautiful place.  The museum is very moving, jolting some of us back  to very clear memories of that day. 

Next year marks 20  years since the bombing.  VERY hard to believe.  Doesn't seem like it can possibly have been so long, and yet, the worst of the visible scars are long healed, and many of the psychological ones are well on the way. 

It still shocks me that anyone remotely human could have parked that truck there, under windows where they knew little children were playing, and set that explosion in motion.  Such hatred, and such misdirected violence did not solve anything.  They only presented a new set of problems.  This tragedy injured Oklahoma deeply, but it also strengthened our resolve.  That was the day I adopted Oklahoma, and vowed to stay help mend this broken heartland.  The great outpouring of love and determination to do the right thing that the world saw here was a true blessing.  People in Oklahoma are pretty tough.  You have to be to live in a place where the land and the weather turn on you at a moment's notice.  Makes us good at getting back up, at reaching out to give our neighbor a hand, at joining hands and standing strong.  When it REALLY matters, people here don't care about the things that usually divide us.  They remember that all we have is each other, good, bad, or indifferent, and they reach out and hold on to one another.  That's what made me adopt this place, that's why I stay. 
We saw it again last year when the tornadoes came.  The rest of the world responds to that by remembering that all ANY of us has is each other, and they send help, or come to help, and even though the events like the tornadoes and the bombing are horrible, they remind us that we are NOT alone or forgotten here. 
Today, the wind is high, but the sun is bright, and the sky is a beautiful blue that I have only ever seen in Oklahoma.  I don't know what Saturday will be like, since that is the actual anniversary, but this lovely morning reminded me of that lovely, doomed morning 19 years ago when I became an Oklahoman.

Remembering An April Morning

Every year for the last 18 years, this day brings a unique pain.  That first day, such shock, disbelief, anger, grief.  The first anniversary, still sadness, the beginnings of rebuilding, hope.
By this time, the grief is old, there are scars where the wounds were.  Most of the scars have even faded.  Still, it hurts.  There are tears.  There are memories, both poignant  and repellent of that day.

It was a beautiful morning in mid-April.  One of the rare Oklahoma spring days with bright sun and a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at.  A light breeze, not the usual howling wind.  Then, a horrible noise.  I was 10 miles away, at our home in Moore, I did not hear it.  My husband called, and told me to turn on the TV.  I could not believe what I saw.  Smoke, fire, confusion in downtown Oklahoma City.  Right near our church.  I watched and listened, and prayed, hoping everyone I knew was OK.

Nobody knew what had happened at first.  Gradually, it became known that there had been some kind of bomb in a truck parked in front of the building.  McVeigh was caught purely by accident.  He had been pulled over for not having a license tag, and he was arrested for having an illegal handgun in the vehicle. Putting all this together happened over the course of a couple of days.  People wanting answers today about what happened in Boston are going to have to be patient.  There are no instant answers, but the truth has a way of pushing its way to the surface eventually.

My husband spent a few 12 hour days at the site of the blast, helping with the Air Force's contribution to the volunteer effort.  They assisted with rubble removal and any recovery as necessary.  The night they were set to bring out the remains of the Marine from the recruiting office, every volunteer that had been there that day stayed late so they could be part of a cordon of honor for that Marine.  Matt said he had never known that place to be as quiet as it was when they brought that Marine out.

When things settled down a bit, we went back to our church and became more involved than we were before.  When you almost lose something or someone, you find out how important it really is.  We have been there almost every Sunday (and Wednesday night) since.  We are in the cathedral choir, and we coordinate the "Fellowship after the 11" group that provides goodies to eat so folks will stay and chat awhile after the service.

In the aftermath of that destructive act of hate, an outpouring of love flooded over this city that was truly unbelievable.  People were angry, yes, but they were more interested in helping those left behind who had to deal with this mess than they were in revenge.  We were all profoundly sad, but there was a sweetness to offset it. The overwhelming sweetness of love.  There is a video I would like to share with this post.  It was made 3 days after the bombing by a local newscaster who is also a musician.  The song still makes me cry.  I have friends who cannot watch it at all.  The words are very good, too. 

May Boston know the healing and the love that we have known.  May this be solved quickly and justice found.  Just know that finding justice does not bring back the ones lost.  We are still missing 168 pieces of the heart of Oklahoma.  Some of them were just babies.

Here is a link to Broken Heartland by Devin Scillian.  Broken Heartland by Devin Scillian

More New Year Stuff and Thoughts on Connectedness

So, one of the last things that happened in the old year was that my faithful desktop computer started having the unfortunate habit of rebooting itself without warning.  (Often in the middle of a project.)  I have been using my laptop (also not a spring chicken) for most of my writing and social networking, but the keyboard drives me nuts, and I couldn't really get decent video or sound on either machine.  SO, I am now typing this on my brand-new, super deluxe desktop unit.  It is a Toshiba, an all in one with all the important hardware in the monitor itself.  It is a touch screen, but I have the wireless keyboard, (one of the best I have ever used) and the wireless mouse.  It comes with a top quality dvd player and great sound.  (It even has a remote control so I can watch my dvds from the comfy chair instead of the almost comfy desk chair.  It is much easier to knit in the comfy chair. ) I have hope that the new computer will make me more likely to write in this blog, because it makes it much more pleasant to do so, but given my history, I will not hold my breath.

The other ongoing new thing is my attempt to use Twitter.  I have successfully set up an account, and I have about 6 followers, about half of which are trying to sell me something.  I "follow" a lot of people, mostly celebrities whose work I admire because I want to know what new project is coming up that I might want to see/hear/read.  I have no idea if anything I mention these folks in ever gets to a place where they can see it.  I often feel like I am talking to  myself on Twitter.  (This blog is pretty much that way, too.  I don't think anybody much reads it but me.)  That's OK, though.  I was the youngest child by 12 years, so I spent a lot of time alone.  I am used to talking to myself.

I would like to apologize to those I may have unintentionally bombarded with posts trying to get a link and a few words to explain it to go out together earlier today.  Sheesh!  I am far from a technological incompetent, but some software makes me feel that way.  It is doubtful that Greg Francis or Ron Perlman will ever read my rambles here, but I AM sorry if my ineptitude made a nuisance of me.  That is the last thing I would wish to do.  All I was trying to do was help a friend, a screenwriter, who is part of a project that is eligible for a grant if they get enough "likes" for their video.  Anne Lower is very talented, and deserves to catch a break right now.  She has had successes, but I think this would mean a lot to her.  Here's a link to the project   As for my trying to help, you know what they say about good intentions...


OK, time for what I am SUPPOSED to be writing.
Walking yesterday morning and thinking about how the trees looked against the bright winter sky.  Like fine black fingers reaching toward the crystal blue sky.  The air was cold, crisp, and sweet.  That is one thing I like about Oklahoma.  Nowhere near as much crud in the air as there was in L.A. when I was growing up there.  You can hear yourself think walking around a small suburban neighborhood in Moore, Oklahoma.  There are noises, but in the mid-morning on a weekday, it is pretty quiet.  The only exception is when the stupid train decides to come through. There is one exception to the clear air.  Pollen.  (Thanks ever so much, Texas, for sharing all your cedar pollen with us.  I never had allergies before I moved to Oklahoma.  I think maybe the smog killed the pollen in L.A., but I can't be sure... I left in '89.) 
ANYWAY, as I was walking, I was thinking about how connected I seem to be to the community here.  I work in the public library here in Moore, and though this is a large suburb, it still feels like a small town.  Whenever I go out to the store, the gas station, the movie theater, (and we have a FABULOUS one The Moore Warren) I see library customers or coworkers.  I see members of the church I attend at my library, even though the church is in downtown Oklahoma City, 10 miles away.  St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral
We here in Central Oklahoma have been through a lot of tough times together in the almost 20 years I've lived here.  The Murrah Bombing - see the memorial website - our church suffered 8 million dollars worth of damage, too.  The May 3rd , 1999 tornado- Link to NOAA here -tore apart many lives here in Moore, and we lost quite a few library materials, but that was the least of our problems.  In all these cases, people here responded with care and help for their neighbors in need.  They also went to the government asking for help.  This is what made me SO ASHAMED of our Oklahoma delegation to Congress when they refused to support aid for the victims of Hurricane Sandy.  What horrendous hypocrisy.   Just because they want to stamp their little feets and say they said "NO" to more government spending.  Idiots!  I am proud to say that I did not vote for ANY of them, where I had the chance, I voted for their opponents.   It is difficult sometimes to be an educated and thinking person in Oklahoma, especially so if one must interact with the general public and remain civil.  For the most part, though, folks here are extremely nice, and will not try to force their opinions and beliefs on you.  The exceptions seem to run for office.  Unfortunately, they often win.
All of these thoughts led me to the conclusion that the connection must reach beyond our town and our state, it must reach out to the whole country , and beyond that, to the world.  We must do a better job of living those fine principles we claim to cherish.  EVERYONE ON THE PLANET is our neighbor, and Christians, Jesus told us in no uncertain terms that we must love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our mind, and with all our spirit, AND OUR NEIGHBOR AS OURSELVES.  "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."  Well, this year I am going to try and reach out to more of my neighbors like the victims of Sandy.  I sent a donation to www.statenstrong.com, I posted the link and asked friends to help both on Facebook and on Twitter.   I talked to people at work about it.   The harder part of loving my neighbor will be to be tolerant and kind even to those who behave with intolerance and unkindness.  Maybe an example is what they need.  Everyone needs to be loved. 
Please, if you happen to read this, go to StatenStrong and see what they are doing.  Maybe send a little donation.  Also, look around your own community, and maybe beyond, and see what you can do to make the connections a little better by helping, or even just spreading the word that help is needed.  It's one of my resolutions this year.