Oklahoma City may be very nice, but what we’re seeing is sad and depressing, with a touch of scary.  I wonder if people living here have higher than average rates of depression or mental illness.

Our first stop was the Murrah building memorial  in the spot where Timothy McVeigh detonated a bomb that killed 168 people on April 19, 1995. The building is gone, and in it’s place are chairs; one for each victim, with the victim’s name engraved on the front.

Just when you think it can’t get any sadder, you realize that some of the chairs are smaller than the others … representing the children who were in the daycare.  Some of the chairs have two names on them, representing women who were pregnant when they died.  It’s a beautiful, poignant and incredibly sad memorial.  I’ve never seen such a gut-wrenching one.  In a city that is regularly pummeled with deadly weather, it somehow seems even more sinister that one human being could purposely cause so much destruction and pointless suffering.

The monument on the end has an identical mate on the opposite side of the water. One is engraved “9:01” and the last “9:03.” The bomb went off at 9:02 and is represented by the chairs, symbolizing how everything changed in just one minute … and then life resumed once again for everyone who had to move on. It’s beautiful.

After the memorial, we drove to nearby Moore and saw the devastation caused by an enormous tornado less than two weeks ago.  I don’t even know what to say about it.  Seeing images of the aftermath in photos and on TV doesn’t prepare you for what it actually looks like.

Adam’s post: We drove a few miles south of town to Moore – the location of the worst destruction from the tornado that hit just 11 days earlier. I plugged the Plaza Towers Elementary school into my GPS and made our way through the neighborhoods.  

The tornado was about 3.5 miles wide when it hit Moore and it just completely leveled everything in its path.   As we approached ground zero, it got trickier and trickier to maneuver – many roads were closed off, either formally or just because the debris completely blocked the paths.  Once we got into the thick of things, we were out of our element.  FEMA was there.  Red Cross was there.  Lots of dump trucks and earth movers were moving about trying to clear things up and put them into formal piles to be hauled away.  Random people were walking about their lots, trying to dig through the piles to find any of their previous possessions not lost or destroyed.  

It was absolutely unreal and what we have seen on TV just doesn’t do justice to the alien environment.   I didn’t take any pictures while we were there – it didn’t seem right and I was already attracting enough “you shouldn’t be here” attention to suit me.  So, we drove around a bit more and then left as quickly as we could.  Imagine your house and everything you ever owned crushed down and spread out into a pile no more than 2 feet high.  The fact that only 27 people died that night is amazing in itself.  This destruction went on for miles and miles.

Late in the afternoon, we drove north to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum.  I wanted to view the original Remington sculptures and paintings there as well as the large gun collection they had on display.  The building is dedicated to all things Western Art.  This style isn’t really up our alley and looking at room after room of this theme became a bit overwhelming.  However, for those whose tastes are more geared in this direction, it clearly should not be missed.  For what it is, it’s an impressive place with a great deal of American treasures.

The original “The End of the Trail” by James Earle Frasier.

The kids killing some time while Brenda takes in the art (L, in distance).

A room worthy of the manliest of men.

For dinner we drove down to the Stockyard City district to get a good steak.  The Cattlemen’s Restaurant has been at the same location since 1910 and has long been famous as a great steak joint.  The 5 of us split 3 steak meals – coming with rolls, salads, mushrooms, and potatoes (both baked and mashed) and all left feeling stuffed.  We all ate too much and waddled back to our truck, and from there back to the hotel room.  

Brenda again … We’re in our hotel now, glued to the news … a new violent tornado has touched down very near our hotel.  We’re not sure what we are supposed to do.

15 minutes later … We’ve been evacuated to a reinforced downstairs hallway in our hotel.  There are 7 tornadoes headed directly for us.  All three kids are in tears.  The biggest of these twisters is nearly a mile wide, and the debris cloud following behind is several miles wide.  We’re scared, to say the least.  Our plans for tomorrow were to leave early and head to Kansas, but I’m no longer interested in being in tornado country.  This is horrifying.

Party Central in the 1st floor hallway. The hotel was “U” shaped and both first floor hallways were designed to be reinforced for storm events. Everyone is tap-a-tapping on iPhones & etc. I was able to watch a live TV feed from local TV news on my iPad to watch the storms’ progression as it arrived.
That thing at the end of the hall is a king sized mattress blocking the hall from possible debris.

30 minutes later than that: We were barricaded in the hallway with mattresses, pillows, emergency lanterns and bottled water.  The hotel staff opened windows to equalize pressure, so gusts of wind blew over the mattresses and at least cooled us off a little.  We were told to hold pillows over our heads and everyone huddled together.  Everyone was crying and one man said a prayer.

The family next to us lost their home in Moore two weeks ago, and here they are again, huddled up hoping for the best.  The mom told us that she was at work at the hospital (she’s a nurse) and her kids were at the very school we visited today in Moore that is no longer there.  Her kids were all evacuated, but she had several hours not knowing if they were safe or even alive.  The roads were closed and her car was wrecked.  She said, “It was a really long walk home that night.”  Her house was gone.

Thankfully the bulk of the storm passed us by tonight and we never even lost power.  Right now we’ve been let out of the hallway but told to stay on the first floor so everyone can be quickly re-evacuated to the halls in case conditions worsen unexpectedly.

I don’t want to spend any more time in tornado country, but Adam checked the weather forecast for Wichita, Kansas and it’s supposed to be sunny and nice for the next several days.  If we cancel our reservations, we lose the $200 hotel deposit and still won’t be able to get far enough away to suit me, so Wichita it is.  Our ultimate destination is Colorado.

8:30 p.m.  We’ve been given the “all clear” to go back to our rooms, but to keep the news on in case of any unexpected changes.  There is still thunder and lightning outside, but the rain has mostly stopped and the winds have died down quite a bit.  The people who live here in Oklahoma City are much more relaxed now, which is a good sign.  Earlier, Adam asked a girl on the hotel staff how often she’d had to go through these tornado evacuations to the hallway and she said, “This is the first time.”  That was not encouraging.

10:55 p.m. Sadness of another sort:  I just got word that my grandfather died this afternoon after a long illness.  He lead a fantastic life and made it to age 93.  He died surrounded by his family and everyone had a chance to say their goodbyes, so this is bittersweet news.  We will now be headed north to Montana.

As my dad wrote to me this evening, “This is one night that is going to remain in memory. Hard to believe.”