JAYNA DAVIS
Posted on 04/19/2016 2:24:54 PM PDT by nickcarraway
Tragedy. How an American could attack and kill so many innocent Americans.
I wonder if they attackers had been from a wealthy, important ALLY if our entire US Gummint would COVER IT UP..?
And in fact there is still pretty good reason to believe there WAS some involvement, along those lines.
Are you talking about Oklahoma City or Waco?
yep.
Today is also Patriot’s Day - Lexington and Concord.
Ant threads on that?
Amazing and chilling book..!
EVERYONE should read that!
She’s really an indefatigable researcher, wow.
I happened to be in the Murrah Federal Building the week before the bombing. Same time of day (9:00 a.m.) I will never forget how surreal it seemed watching the reports of the bombing.
I’m sure Obama will seize upon this somehow to push for his SC appointee who must have a liberal gun-grabbing agenda.
Again, another lie from Obama that he has to fill this position because it’s his “duty”.
I still want to see the gas chromatography autopsy done on Scalia. Just for prudence. Yes, as I understand it, it can still be done, even after this time.
Also she’s Not Guilty!
Good friend of mine lost his sister and her husband there that day. They were Secret Service and were about to be sent to DC.
I never read that she was an accomplice of McVeigh and Nichols.
And we remember this date in 1993, when the Clintons and Janet Reno set fire to the Branch Davidians home in Waco Texas, burning to death two dozen children and 52 adults. Hillary Clinton had come to Texas the weekend before the military assault to meet with Ann Richards, then the Democrat governor of Texas, no doubt to tell her of the planned attack.
After the carnage, Clintons and Reno lied and said the Davidians set the fires and the Democrat Congress was fine with that. Another sinful, inexcusable mark against America by the criminal Clintons. And Hillary has the gall to run for president. Unbelievable.
April 19. A sad, pensive, thoughtful day for me. I think of what could be. I think of those that had their lives more profoundly affected than me. Last year I posted my memory of an April 19 that I shall never forget. It is why I still drive with my headlights on in bright sunshine - as a “hook” for me to remember. Below is that memory.
April 19, 1995 was a beautiful Spring Wednesday in Oklahoma. The air was crisp, but the skies were promising with blue skies interlaced with patchy clouds. How surreal appearances can be.
I had previously committed to a friend from Southern Oklahoma that I would save him a long arduous trip from Durant, and I would make a court appearance for him. I left my office a little late, so I was rushing downtown trying to escape rush-hour traffic. The hearing was at 9:00. I drove East on 4th Street, then South on Robinson to park. As I was proceeding to the East, I had to pass a yellow truck parked in the right hand lane. Little did I know that truck would alter history for so many. I parked in the garage to the Federal Building, and walked to the Bankruptcy Court for my appearance. Nothing seemed irregular. How surreal appearances can be.
I arrived at the courtroom on the 7th floor of the old Post Office, which had become the Bankruptcy Court for the Western District of Oklahoma. It was one block from where I parked. I chatted with a few friends waiting on the Judge. There were 20-25 lawyers present. At 9:00 the Judge’s clerk appeared. That was normal procedure - for someone had to announce the entry of the Judge. We waited. Everyone quieted, and began collecting their thoughts. That is normal. How surreal appearances can be.
Prior to the Judge appearing, and at 9:02 an explosion moved air inside the courtroom. It was the loudest sound that had ever surprised and startled me. It was totally out of character for the library like solitude of a courtroom. There had been no warning. Windows were shattered, and shards were hurled through the room. The blinds on the windows were limply hanging, having been dislodged by the air concussion. Three questions came to mind immediately; what was that, is it going to happen again, and what do I need to do now? While lost in trying to make order of the disorder, the clerk barked,”Get down on the floor, now!” After a few seconds, that seemed like minutes, the clerk again barked, “Get out of the building! Use the stairs!” We did, walking over glass fragments and ceiling tiles. As we descended, one of my friends (an ex-Vietnam veteran) remarked that he had not heard anything that loud since the Tet offensive in 1968. He thought it was a natural gas explosion. It seemed that it took forever to get to the ground floor and exit on the street. How surreal appearances can be.
When I got to the street, I was met with a sight I had not seen before, or since. Immediately on exiting I was staring at the Oklahoma City branch of the Federal Reserve. For decades the Fed looked like any office building during the day, but a vaulted fortress after hours. Tall, heavy, massive steel/iron doors had closed the entrance. Something was clearly different. Scores of people were running, walking fast, in no unified direction. Men in white shirts were stained by blood. Women were hobbling barefoot, carrying their shoes. Some had lost heels in their haste. I looked up at the surrounding buildings and saw windows broken and missing. I remember remarking later that it looked like a war zone. It was pandemonium. How surreal appearances can be.
I walked the block to where my car was parked - the parking garage of the Alfred P Murrah Federal Building. Law enforcement already had yellow tape around the entire two block area. I talked to an agent, approaching slowly so I would not appear a threat since many people had attempted to cross the tape and were physically prevented. As I looked at the garage entry I observed that a triage station was established on the apron to the garage. My assessment was that my car would not be removed that day. I was right. I heard passing people shrieking about a bomb, and that there were others - in all directions. I surveyed the vicinity, and saw blue sky while looking through the shell of building roofs. How surreal appearances can be.
I made an executive decision. I was clad in a suit, and 8 miles from my office. I decided that I would walk a mile away and call my wife from a phone. This was before cell phones were carried. I chose a location far enough away that she would be able to find me.
In downtown Oklahoma City there were officers directing traffic at every intersection. Fire hoses were stretched prominently. Sirens were echoing from all directions. On my way to my chosen meeting place, I ran across a young man dressed in faded and tattered fatigues. He had several months of facial hair, and appeared as he hadn’t seen soap or shampoo in quite a while. Even in those circumstances I suppose I gave off a calm air that I am approachable. He stopped me and asked if I knew what had happened. I told him no. He said he was sleeping in an alcove a block away, and when it happened he skedaddled before someone blamed him for it. How surreal appearances can be.
As I strode on I walked by small merchant shops some 7-8 blocks away. The front, plate glass windows had been blown out, and several merchants were using their push brooms to clear the sidewalks. I talked to one. He had come to the United States in 1975 - a refugee from Saigon. I remember thinking that life goes on - in Southeast Asia and in the United States. As I continued walking I thought that he had to have seen many atrocities in his life, but the enduring, surviving spirit was remarkable. I got to the rendezvous point. It was outside a McDonalds. How surreal appearances can be.
I called my wife. She broke, and started crying. Crying for happiness. The early news reports from a helicopter was that the building was the Federal Courthouse. My wife knew I was making a court appearance and believed the worst. I got her the necessary information on my location.
While I was waiting for her a suited man approached me and apologetically asked me if he might ask a few questions. I consented. He told me he was from Dallas, and said he had just driven in that morning. He had been listening in his car to a script for a business presentation he was to make later that day. When he stopped for coffee near downtown he was introduced to the pandemonium. He asked me if the sirens, and all the law enforcement traffic was normal in Oklahoma City. He was even more oblivious about what had happened. How surreal appearances can be.
My wife arrived and we cried together. That was one of the most binding events in our marriage. She told me that our youngest daughter had been on the school bus to come downtown for the Arts Festival. The bus had not departed the school, and my understanding that it was rocked by the concussive force even 16 miles away. I was told that the picture frames on our walls had moved. I had her drop me at my office so I could make telephone calls. When I got there I discovered the phone lines were limited. I could not get a dial tone. I received one phone call. A friend from St. Louis had been outside his building and saw something about it on a news crawl at a bank. He had worked in Oklahoma City and had many friends and former co-workers here. He told me more of what happened than I had heard up to that point. It’s always been interesting to me that news travels much faster to a distant place than to a local one. How surreal appearances can be.
On Thursday I received a call from my auto insurance company. They wanted to buy my quarantined car. I do not know how they discovered it was isolated inside the secure area. I told them that I wasn’t sure it was damaged, but they were insistent on paying full retail book value plus $1,000. I explained that the policy had a terrorism exclusion and hence they would have no liability. They said it didn’t matter, that they were waiving that. I regretfully accepted as I needed transportation and I couldn’t get mine back. I’ve never had an insurance company call and make such a generous offer when I didn’t ask for it. How surreal appearances can be.
Over the next month I attended more funerals than anyone should be required to do. Nine. Catholic, Christian, Jewish, and non-sectarian. This senseless act had rippled through all socio-economic levels in Oklahoma City. It did not discriminate on race, religion, ethnicity, political party, or social standing. It was the beginning of “The Oklahoma Standard” as coined by Governor Frank Keating. The sense of community and brotherhood was only rivaled by the spirit helping those harmed by tornadoes. The rescue workers that came from afar were touched by the genuine Christian hospitality shown them.
I remember writing a short note to a friend in San Francisco - I told him that our “people” we’re unified in helping their brothers and sisters in their time of need. I wrote that I was confident that other communities would do the same given a common, horrific atrocity. Several years after that I ran into him at a conference, and he produced a worn note from his wallet - the one I wrote him. He said he reads it when he is down and needs encouragement. I’ve long believed in the staying power of the written word, and how, like many, I don’t write enough. How surreal appearances can be.
Today the 21st anniversary of the bombing will be observed. Things have changed. Changed in personal lives, and changed with knowledge. The attacks on 9/11 were even more horrendous. The images of the towers collapsing were vivid reminders of the street scene I saw on April 19. But, some things have not changed. The endearing compassion and sense of community persists. How surreal appearances can be.
Some of you know that I run a bit. Some of you also know that the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon occurs every year. This year will be the 16th. This run is styled as the “Run to Remember.” Along the course there are 168 banners with the names of those that died, displayed from light poles throughout the course. Many runners are friends or family of those deceased. They run for the memories and for the sense of community. That includes me. When I run, and get to the “banner” portion of the course, I stop when I see the name of someone I knew. I think about what he/she would be like today. How surreal appearances can be.
So on Sunday April 24, I will be one of the 30,000 - 35,000 runners in the event. I’ve decided not to do the full marathon this year, but the half again, as it gives me time to reflect. Yes, I will be slow. Yes, I will have pains afterwards. Yes, I will meet people along the way with stories. Yes, I support them. Please pray for the families of the deceased, and the 674 that were wounded.
Thank you for allowing me to share a still vivid memory. I wish all, only good things today, and all days. I’ll try to call my friend that keeps my message today. Hug your family and friends today, and quietly tell them what they mean in your life.
Gwjack
Wrote a book called the Third Terrorist. Not that she was the third terrorist.
Major Sarcasm Post [ON]
Impossible that a bomb killed 168 people. Only guns cause mass killings. Oh, it was a white male with a bomb. All white males are terrorists and rapists. Ban all white males.
Continue rant:
Ban all guns, especially “military style” firearms. All guns are evil. Nobody needs a gun. Only backwards people in third world countries need weapons from us to overthrow leaders we deem unfit to rule.
MSP [OFF]
Well, she is a known associate of Frank J. Gaffney Jr., Herb Meyer, Dan Vogel, Dana Rohrabacher, David P. Schippers, and R. James Woolsey.
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