On this day . . .

The Oklahoma City Bombing was the event that shaped my life. I saw it only in clips and music montages on the national news. I always watched NBC at that time. I remember seeing one montage that simultaneously froze me in my tracks and moved me to tears. I realized how powerful music and images and words were all at the same time. The idea that the media tell you what to think about and what you should think about it is not a small measure of responsibility. Today, people accuse the media of strong biases and I wonder what those people would do if they only knew about the reality of the world, if they would still think the way they do? I left my house that day wondering how something like this happens?

Since then I have been supremely privileged to be given the responsibility to tell the story of the people. I was interviewing at KWTV News 9 in Oklahoma when I saw this memorial for the first time. There were hundreds of people there but everyone was silent. I don't know what I thought. The impact of the weight that hate carries hit me full force.

The last time we went to Oklahoma, Xyla and I visited the memorial with her dad. He has lived there his whole life, he likely felt the ground rumble the day it happened but he had never been there before. After we went through the museum, Xyla said, "It is very sad in there, mommy. Let's not go in there again." In my heart I wanted to tell her it is very sad everywhere. Instead I set out trying to teach her how to make a difference by valuing others. She has made me so proud.

She told my friend yesterday, "I was born in Oklahoma."

She was. The day I brought her home, there was an outbreak of tornadoes and one that looked like it was going to hit my house. I have never been so scared. It didn't but I have since had friends who have lost everything to the wind. That state taught me how precious life is, it taught me how random what happens to you can really be and that state taught me how to survive anything.

I wish people could know what we as journalists see. I worked beside people who were covered in dust from the building going live as rescuers were moving large slabs to locate survivors, I have interviewed survivors. I helped broadcast every memorial ceremony that happened while I worked in television. I talked to Baylee Almon's parents who asked that people stop showing the picture, the one with firefighter. (Which is why I won't post it here.)

There have been a lot of terrible things happen since this day so many years ago. The memory of a lot of them fade. They are becoming so common place the shock of it is gone. But the thing I will never forget is that we, as a society, created the people who do this. We create them everyday by how we treat each other. And we, as parents, have the power to change our future for the better. That is our tremendous responsibility.





Giving up on wishing

She laid her beautiful head of curly chocolate hair on her pillow. As I take in the idea that I can no longer call her my small child I notice an eyelash has fallen onto her cheecks and is resting next to her light happy freckles. 

I reach for it and balance it gently on my fore finger for her to make a wish on. She looked at it and suddenly her cheerful retelling of what the lunch lady does if she catches you taking two items from the purple food group turned sombre. She looked at it for a moment and shook her head no.

I gave her my look that she knows means to ask what's up. She said she doesn't think she wants to wish anymore since none of her wishes ever come true. I asked her what she wishes for. She said she always wishes for the same thing, a happy family. 

I am heart broken.

It is the one thing money can't buy. 

So I told her that we are a family and we have to make ourselves happy. Then we will have a happy family. It might only be two people but it counts.