One late afternoon some years ago I stood among rows of uniformly sized brass markers placed with military precision in the grass at the Riverside National Cemetery. At my feet was my father’s marker, and this was my annual pilgrimage to his final resting spot to mark his birthday. The date was Sept. 11, 2001, and it had been one hellish morning for America.
It is coincidence that the long-established emergency services number and the date marking the attack on the World Trade Center are comprised of the same numbers — 9, 1 and 1; or 911 and 9-11, respectively. Rickola was born on that date in 1915, and on this annual visit I recalled his old stand-by joke on how easy it was for people to remember his birthday because it appears on all emergency vehicles. I wondered at the time what his reaction would have been to this new 9-11.
This little playback in my mind was oddly enough triggered by a documentary I watched a few days ago while recuperating, or trying to, from a little health bother that took me offline for a bit. The film documented the actions of one Timothy McVeigh, America’s homegrown terrorist whose actions caused the death of 168 people, 12 of them children. Because my father was in the final phases of Parkinson’s disease, he would pass away four months after the Oklahoma City attack, I never knew what his reaction to that act of violence. My friend Stephen and I were in Manhattan, he for an economic summit and I for sightseeing, where we stood at Ground Zero six months to the day after 9-11. We added our condolences to the thousands already affixed to a chain link fence surrounding the now empty area where the Twin Towers had once reached toward the skies. And while that great empty space was a somber place to visit, it was the sights of Oklahoma City that are more vivid in my memories.
In American culture, the date April 19 is revered by some as Patriot’s Day, marking that date in 1776 when on the greens of Lexington Square the first shots of resistance to British rule were fired. Young Mr. McVeigh was, by the time he had exited military service a decorated warrior, he was totally disillusioned by American society, hated government interference and loved guns. Two incidents involving what he viewed at government overreach tipped him over the edge and created a domestic terrorist. The first was an August 1992 stand-off in a remote area in the Idaho mountains named Ruby Ridge, where a man alleged to have sold an illegal weapon to an undercover agent refused to surrender to authorities. Before it ended, a law enforcement officer was dead, as was one of the man’s sons and his wife. The second event took place in April 1995 outside of Waco, Texas, where once again a man and his followers were charged with possession of illegal weapons refused to surrender to authorities. A 50-plus day siege ended in the deaths of 76 men, women and children; the date was April 19, Patriot’s Day.
Two years later to the day, Timothy McVeigh parked a truck filled with homemade explosives in front of the Edward P. Murrah Government Building, lit two fuses and walked away. The target was not random, it was chosen because of its federal connections, its connection to an overreaching and abusive government; or so McVeigh believed. Housed inside dozens of state, county and federal offices, among them U.S. Army and Marine recruiters, U.S. Secret Service, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, U.S. Customs Office, U.S. Departments of Defense, Agriculture, Veteran’s Affairs and Transportation, and the Drug Enforcement Agency. And a day care center.
After the rescue and recovery efforts were completed, when once the last body of the last victim found was removed and the funerals had taken place, on May 23 the Murrah building was razed, leaving only a open space where once over 3,000 worked. I was at the site two days later and stood at the chain link fence looking over the area of destruction. This fence was adorned with cards, letters, photographs of victims; and small stuffed teddy bears and other toys in honor of the 12 innocent children who died at the hands of a man who once swore to protect those children. That scene has stayed with me for nearly 30 years, and I suppose will remain with me until my end.
Two years later my daughter Jenny and I visited the Oklahoma City Memorial that now occupies the area that was destroyed. We walked among 168 empty chairs, each with the name of a victim engraved on it; 12 of the chairs are child sized. There is a long pool, which reflects the two monoliths at each end, the land is tiered with uniformly placed trees and cement walkways. Across from the victim’s chairs is the Survival Tree, the one remaining tree that survived the blast and today is a place of meditation for many.
The overwhelming thought I had as I finished watching the two documentaries is that our country today is as politically separated today as it was in the 1860s and 1960s with emotions running high as the assault upon American culture continues at a dizzying pace. The chaos created by the present administration is raising the temperature of national politics to the point where I fear something will blow. We saw on Jan. 6, 2021, that there are many radicals willing to attack government institutions when told to do so by the present chief administrator, who are willing to harm or kill law enforcement officers who stand in their way. And because all these Trumpian gangsters were set free, they and many, many others now know they can attack again with impunity and suffer no consequences. What, then, will prevent them from doing so again when resistance to their vaunted leader arises and needs putting down? The future will tell.
Take care. Peace.
