Memories of April 19

It was a Wednesday morning ten years ago when Tim McVeigh parked a Ryder truck in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. The truck was filled with several steel drums, which had been converted into home-made bombs. Mr. McVeigh had served honorably in the first Gulf War, but had not been a munitions expert. There's no indication that his co-conspirators knew much more than the formula they could have gotten from a pamphlet: a little fertilizer, a little of this and that, and – presto! – you have a bomb.

It's quite possible that McVeigh had no idea how much damage that amount of home-made explosive would do. He was later quoted as saying he intended to park near the day care center, as "pay back" for the children who had been killed at the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas. But, who knows? That might have been after-the-fact bravado.

Tim parked and exited the truck at 9:01. By 9:03, 168 people were dead. Thirteen were children. The front of the building was gone, and a sizable crater was left where the truck had been.

I was working for the Infernal Bookstore. A little before 9, I had left the main branch to make deliveries to our satellite locations. The Infernal Bookstore is in Norman, OK, which is about 166 miles south of Oklahoma City. I heard an explosion. I already had the radio on, and a news report came on shortly after. The reporter said they were unclear as the cause of the explosion, which had occurred in downtown Oklahoma City, but authorities believed it might have been a gas explosion.

It didn't take long for authorities to find the source of the explosion. By the time I returned to the main store, between 9:15 and 9:30, they reported that someone had blown up the Murrah Building.

I worked in the receiving area, so it was possible for us to have the radio on the rest of the day, tuned to our local NPR station (KGOU=KROU, owned & operated by the University of Oklahoma). We immersed ourselves in the reports and speculations. Some believed there was a connection with Hitler's birthday (many neo-Nazi groups celebrate this event on the 19th). Others believed there was a connection with the events at Waco, which had occurred two years previously.

There were constant reports of survivors found or rescued, as well as updates on the death toll.

When I got home shortly after 5 that evening, I immediately turned on the news. My wife and I were absorbed in the reports which dominated the airwaves for the next several days.

Mary Ellen and I had been married for a little less than ten years by now. One of Mary's proudest moments was when she served as a counselor to those who had survived the shootings at the Edmond Post Office in 1986 (shortly before we were married). Based on that experience, she felt she could serve the same function in the aftermath of this tragedy.

By Wednesday morning, the First Christian Church, at NW 36th and Walker, had been designated as the place for families and survivors to gather. The Red Cross had arranged for meals as well as professional counselors. Mary Ellen arrived, confident that would be glad for her expertise. She was turned down. They were only seeking credentialled counselors, and Mary lacked the appropriate alphabet soup behind her name (she had recently achieved her Masters of Education).

As I have said elsewhere, I count this as a turning point in our marriage. It seems frivolous to say we were victims of the bombing, especially compared to those who lost their lives or loved ones to the blast. Regardless, I feel there is an element of truth in that characterization.

A potential contributor to the strain was the fact that I did play a very small part in the story. I was also working part-time for KGOU=KROU Radio at the time, early mornings on the weekend (5 am - noon Saturday; 5 am - 9 Sunday). I was the host of a local music program, Ambient Morning Music, and monitored the board during satelite broadcasts.

The phone rang during the music program. It was BBC Ireland, wanting an interview. None of KGOU's news staff were present, so I agreed to the interview. I asked the interviewer to call back after the music program was done, in about an hour and a half.

I suppose I gave an adequate interview, for a non-news person. I didn't think much of it, even when I received a check from BBC Ireland. Mary Ellen seemed supportive at the time, and even proud, but I wouldn't doubt she felt jealous as well.

Like any one else, Mary did not enjoy blows to her ego. In other instances, her response has been to try to prove herself, in order to prove those who had rejected her wrong.

This perceived rejection was a relatively small piece in a much larger picture, which included working at three part-time jobs and negotiating the stresses of marriage. All this lead her to accept a position as a teacher of English as a Second Language in Seoul, South Korea in September.

She left sometime in the first two weeks of September, so it was a little less than five months following the bombing. The connection may seem too distant to be obvious, but I believe being accepted by the school in Seoul was a way to "off-set" the rejection she felt on Wednesday, April 20th.

Four years later, it became obvious that she had no plans to come back to America. I have speculated elsewhere as to how I may have contributed to Mary's desire to leave, and to the end of the marriage. Regardless, the end was made official in February 2000.

Perhaps this is a story about how the bombing affected even a small corner of the state. As I say, our marriage was the least of the victims of this horrific event. But I wonder how many other Oklahomans have similar stories that have yet to be shared?