Just like everyone else in Oklahoma, I remember exactly where I was when I heard about the Murrah Federal Building bombing. I was a freshman at The University of Oklahoma, living in the dorms, sleeping through my early morning intro philosophy class. My friend Brandy, who lived across the hall, was in the same class and we had devised a system where we took turns going to class and sleeping in. That particular day was her turn to go. I woke up to her pounding on my door, and my first thought was that I had missed a test by not going. When I opened the door and let her in, I was still pretty groggy and what she was telling me made no sense. She wanted me to drive her somewhere to go donate blood. It wasn't until I got around and made my way to the lounge on our floor to check out the television coverage, that I fully understood the extent of what had happened.
I immediately remembered a conversation at dinner the night before. Brandy's suitemate Renae and I had met up with a couple guys in the cafeteria, and had dinner with them. We didn't know them all that well, so we were having the basic get to know each other conversation. One of the questions that came up was "what do your parents do for a living?". Brian told us his mom worked in the federal building. Not one of those things you would typically remember or put much thought into, but that conversation rushed back to us as we were stuck to the TV.
Brian lost his mother that day. I always think about that, think about him. Even though we weren't close friends, and didn't keep in touch after the dorms, I always remember that day. And I know that I always will.
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