Eleven years ago today my family had prepared a surprise party for me. A limousine had been hired to pick me up after work and whisk me away. It was to drive me, along with several family members, to our favorite restaurant where other family members would be waiting. It was an odd reason for a party. They were planning to celebrate the 20th anniversary of my divorce. It was a period of time I had survived and successfully raised my two precious children with the help of parents and friends, and had participated in raising two precious god-children plus I was embarking on the wonders of grandparenthood. My banking career had gone well in the process and we were going to celebrate my 20 years of triumphs.
The Tulsa bank I worked for had a board meeting that morning. A little after 9:00 am one of the board members was called out to take a phone call. Everyone who viewed his response to the call knew something was wrong. He was learning that an explosion had rocked downtown Oklahoma City a few minutes earlier.
I was advised of the planned party and the cancellation. The limousine for my party was cancelled, but our family still grouped at the restaurant that evening and shared the unbelievable events that had occurred that day. We had called and searched for friends and family in OKC that would have been or could have been affected in some way. A bank co-worker searched by frantic phone call after frantic phone call for her father who worked in the Murrow building. It was late in the day before she learned that he had stepped out for coffee and was returning to witness the explosion that killed many of his coworkers and friends.
It was a horrible day in history. It drifts farther from our memory, as does 9/11. How can that be?
I can't believe it passed and I had forgotten
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