Oklahoma City Bombing

Life Isn't Fair ... Everybody's Here for You

"My mom tells me a lot that life isn't fair, but this is one of the worst ever in my life. And if anybody calls and hears this ... just ... everybody's here for you."

It was the halting voice of a child, struggling between sobs to voice his feelings. The call to The Oklahoman's Access Line was recorded at 3:34 Sunday morning.

Just as the children and infants in the second-floor day-care center of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building were the most tragic victims in the April 19 bombing, the city area's children may carry the deepest psychological scars, say area psychologists and counselors.

They are too innocent, too unsophisticated, to understand how extreme beliefs can sometimes drive people to extreme acts; how people can value political ideology above human life.

They know only that mothers, fathers, grandparents and children have died.

"I don't understand why the bad guys hurt the people," Billy Shawn Easley, 4, of Oklahoma City, wrote with the help of his older sister.

"When I get big, I want to tell them not to hurt the people. The bad guys made the children cry. Just tell me why!

"The rescue workers are good people. They helped the people to stop crying. I love you," Easley said in the letter meant for rescue workers.

Amanda Warehime, 14, of Dewey, OK, sent this letter, meant for the parents of children killed in the bombing:

"I feel horrible, sick, devastated and terrified. I have no idea how utterly confused you must feel now. I know one thing, though, your child or children are sitting on Jesus' knee, happy and in no pain.

"I also know God would never make this happen. Man made this happen. God cried that night, cried for you in your pain. May God be with you in your time of sadness. You are loved."

Other children and teen-agers also left messages on the Access Line.

"I'm 13 and I think that I've never seen this in my life," said one boy. "And I think that this is sick that somebody can do this to human beings, to human life. And to kill that many children is just sick. I just think it's really sick."

A young girl called to say, "I think the people who did this are evil cowards as President Clinton said, and it will take Oklahoma City a long time to recover from the evil cowardice that has been set upon us.

"But with love and pride and a wonderful sense of community that we have here in Oklahoma City, we shall overcome," she said.

And parents called with concerns about the children.

A woman called to say, "I think it's a real tragedy that anyone, and especially Americans, would do this to other innocent people and make the little children around here in Oklahoma be scared to go outside or to be scared to play because they're afraid that the bomb will find them."

The mother of an Oklahoma City police officer said after the bombing that her son's days off were canceled and he has been working 12-hour shifts ever since.

"His little 5-year-old daughter doesn't quite understand why she doesn't get to see her daddy, and she thinks because the bomb's over that her daddy ought to be home with her.

"So it has affected all of our lives in some way. And I'm so sorry for all the families involved," she said.

Edmond psychologist Paul Tobin said children may react differently to the bombing, depending on their level of development.

Very young children, preschool or kindergarten age, may react with regressive behavior such as thumb sucking or bed wetting. They may cling more closely to parents and show more anxiety over separation from parents.

Older children may also show signs of regressing, Tobin said. But they also may become irritable or have angry outbursts. Children may also have nightmares and difficulty sleeping.

Tobin said parents should encourage their children to talk about their feelings. With children who are not talkative, drawing pictures might help.

Parents also should be positive when around children, he said.

"It does make sense to say, yes there is evil in the world, but that there is also a tremendous amount of good out there that will overcome evil.

"The firemen, policemen, rescue workers are real examples of good - caretakers who are making their world safe again."

Tobin said teachers can also help students express their feelings about the bombing. Several area schools have sent The Oklahoman examples of what their students have done since April 19.

Second-grade students at Russell Dougherty Elementary School in Edmond dedicated their class newspaper to Murrah building bombing. The students' headlines mirrored those in newspapers across the nation.

"They established that it was a senseless deed. They decided it was somebody who had been very injured in his or her life, and who didn't know how to love," said their teacher, Linda Skinner. "If children ran the world, we would have a community of love."

She said each of her students had a personal connection to someone directly involved in the bombing, either as a victim or as part of the rescue effort.

The children also drew pictures and constructed worry dolls for rescue workers and children in the hospital.

Patsy Glass's kindergarten class at Oakdale Elementary School, 10901 N Sooner Road, put together a book about the bombing with drawings and comments from the students. Here are some excerpts from that book:

Logan Brauser: "My Dad heard the bomb go off, and he thought it was an airplane that crashed by our house."

Dylan Stephens: "Some people ducked under their desks. The desks helped them real good because they weren't scraped or hurt, and some kids weren't even crying."

Olivia Barnes: "We were watching T.V. There was a baby that died. He had blood on him all over. My big brother, Lucas, didn't know it was a baby."

Cara Mosca: "I remember when I was sleeping and the bomb was ready to blow."

Kelsey White: "A friend was in the day care at the YMCA and just got a scrape from a piece of glass."

Evan Elliott: "Some people are dead from day care. ... I felt bad when the building blew up."

Michael Mathis: "My Dad felt the bomb."

Hannah McCutcheon: "My dad was close to the bomb."

Courtney Craig: "Yesterday when we were at school I almost cried because some babies died."

Shyla Orf: "My other dad works at the YMCA. He almost died, but he got out safe."

Toni Cardwell's second-grade class at Earlywine Elementary School, 12800 S May in the Moore School District, wrote letters to rescue workers and others:

Kylie Combs: "Dear rescue dogs: Dogs are one of my favorite animals. Thank you for helping the firefighters look for the missing people.

"I'm sad that all those people were in the big boom. I'm really sad that all those people were hurt. Please run and play with children everywhere, so we all can be happy again. I pray that God keeps you safe."

Michael Switzer: "Dear President Clinton, thank you for giving Oklahoma your support. Thank you for talking to the children so we won't be scared. I'm glad you came to Oklahoma for our prayer meeting. I liked the speech you gave. I never want to be sad again. P.S., Thank you for planting the dogwood tree."

Zach Gilliam: "Dear victims and families, I know you feel sad. I hope you feel better soon. I can't believe anyone could hurt innocent people. I am praying for you!"

Randi McLain: "Dear rescue workers, feelings are hurt and lives are ruined. It might take years to heal the wounds, especially the broken hearts. Thank you for helping the people of Oklahoma. You have done a great job! You are real heroes."

Fatima Maqsood: "Dear policemen, thank you for doing a great job. I'm lucky that my family or other people I know wasn't hurt.

"I wish the boom didn't happen. I wish that many people didn't die. I feel sad so many children are hurting. Policemen, thank you for helping us and making everything better."

Lisa Underwood: "Children of Oklahoma, I'm sorry if you are sad, and it is OK to feel this way. I feel sad sometimes, too. My teacher told me that it would help if I talk about my feelings. I hope you feel better and happy soon. To all the firefighters, thank you for all your help and hard work."

We also received poetry from several schools. Here is one example from Brandi Perry, a sixth grader at Glover Elementary School in Broken Bow:

The Terror
Of Oklahoma,
The Terror
Of Life

Why did they do it? Take all those innocent lives, Put these people through this, Just listen to their cries.

All those innocent babies killed, Every person loved them so, And, why a human would do that, No one will ever know.

While we watched the news, Our eyes filled with tears, And people who were involved, Their hearts filled with fear.

I wish I could grab them and tell them they'll never hurt again, but only God can do that, I can only lend a hand.

Bomb's Emotional Scars Heal at Different Rates, Experts Say

Oklahoma City's broken heart eventually will mend, mental health consultants say.

The individual emotional scars of most people affected by the disaster at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building will heal as well. But it will take time - from six to 18 months, experts say.

For a few people, however, the emotional aftershocks of the deadly bombing could linger for years or even a lifetime.

At least two out-of-state teams experienced in dealing with disasters and post-traumatic stress met last week with officials at the Oklahoma Department of Mental Health and Substance Abuse Services.

The purpose of the teams' visit was to help the state and local agencies develop long-term strategies to help the Oklahoma City community heal, said Rand Baker, the department's chief of staff.

One team was from the National Center of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorders in Palo Alto, Calif.; the other was the Pittsburgh Critical Incident Stress Debriefing Team.

The latter group was established eight months ago after a USAir jetliner on Sept. 8 nosedived into a ravine just outside of Pittsburgh, killing all 132 passengers aboard.

Both teams of consultants said it may take from six to 18 months for the entire community to recover emotionally from the disaster, and some people may require even longer.

"It is very common and quite normal for people to experience emotional aftershocks when they have passed through a horrible event," said social worker Dan Ziff, a member of the Pittsburgh team.

A traumatic event causes people to experience unusually strong emotional reactions that have the potential to affect their ability to function at the workplace, within their families or in other areas of their lives, he said.

With understanding and the support of loved ones, a person's stress reactions usually pass quickly. But sometimes the traumatic event is so painful that professional assistance from a counselor may be necessary, Ziff said.

This eventuality does not mean the person is crazy or weak, he said. It simply indicates that the particular event was just too powerful for the person to manage alone.

"Even though the event may be over, people now may be experiencing some strong emotional or physical reactions - or these stress reactions may set in later," Ziff said.

Most victims don't want to talk about their traumatic experience right away, said Dr. Ken Thompson, a psychiatrist at the University of Pittsburgh.

"There's a natural numbing process and to ask some people to disclose their stories before they're ready is almost cruel," he said. "Each person has their own natural process."

Some people will get better faster than others, Thompson noted. "It's important that the people who need to recover more slowly are not made to feel that there's something wrong with them," he said.

Most people and communities touched by a disaster "yearn for things to go back to the way they were before the event," said Fred Gusman, director of the Palo Alto center.

"But things won't ever be the same in Oklahoma City," he added. "Even once the Murrah building comes down, the site still will bring back sad memories for a lot of people who work in the area, for those who pass by there or for whose friends and relatives were affected there.

"And all of these feelings and memories are understandable and normal," Gusman said.

One classic reaction to tragedy is anger, he said.

"People begin to realize how vulnerable we all are," Gusman said. "Sometimes it can be difficult to decide whether a person is angry or afraid."

Bruce Hiley-Young, disaster outreach coordinator with the Palo Alto center, said the efforts of local news media along with mental health professionals throughout the area will be needed to help Oklahoma City residents recover.

Just about every community disaster is marked by a natural progression of phases or stages, he said.

Once a traumatic event occurs, the predisaster stage is quickly replaced by the heroic phase, when people and property are rescued or bodies are recovered. The heroic stage is also accompanied by the "honeymoon" stage, when the community rallies around the rescuers, providing all sorts of support, Hiley-Young said.

Toward the end of this honeymoon period, victims' families, agencies and others begin to criticize, point fingers or complain about various shortcomings or problems associated with the handling of the disaster or its investigation, he said.

This stage often can bottom out with widespread community disillusionment and anger over the disaster. But after this disillusionment and anger period, many people across the community will begin to climb toward recovery, Hiley-Young said.

But the post-disaster recovery stage will never be able to recreate or duplicate the community's predisaster mood, he said.

Whether Oklahoma City posts a recovery that makes the community stronger or weaker than it was before the blast depends a lot upon how various agencies, institutions, social organizations, civic leaders and citizens deal with the disaster at the Murrah building, its aftermath and each other, he said.

"Disaster can really fray or strain the fabric of a community," Hiley-Young said.

"But the closeness that can develop in a community as a result of a disaster can be used in a variety of positive ways, including the healing of old social wounds."

COPING

Here is what you can do to deal with emotional aftershocks:

• Do strenuous physical exercise.
• Structure your time - keep busy.
• You're normal and having normal reactions. Don't label yourself crazy.
• Talk to people. Talk is the most healing medicine.
• Be aware of numbing the pain with overuse of drugs or alcohol. You don't need to complicate this with a substance abuse problem.
• Reach out - people do care.
• Maintain as normal a schedule as possible.
• Spend time with others.
• Help your co-workers as much as possible by sharing feelings and checking out how they're doing.
• Give yourself permission to feel rotten and share your feelings with others.
• Keep a journal, write your way through those sleepless hours.
• Do things that feel good to you.
• Realize that those around you are under stress.
• Don't make any big life changes.
• Do make as many daily decisions as possible which will give you a feeling of control over your life. Example: If someone asks you what you want to eat - answer them even if you're not sure.
• Get plenty of rest.
• Recurring thoughts, dreams or flashbacks are normal - don't try to fight them - they'll decrease over time and become less painful.
• Eat well-balanced and regular meals (even if you don't feel like it).

Those Who Died

Peter Avillanoza
Music was one of the joys of Peter Avillanoza's life. He played a variety of musical instruments and loved to compose and sing Hawaiian songs.

A strong supporter of the community, Avillanoza was a football and baseball coach and taught judo at the YMCA.

A native of Honolulu, Avillanoza was a former officer with the Honolulu Police Department and volunteer fireman with the Honolulu Fire Department.

He earned a bachelor's degree in criminal justice and a master's degree in public administration.

A month and a half ago he was transferred to Oklahoma City from California to become the director of the Office of Fair Housing and Equal Opportunity. Before the transfer, he worked in the HUD offices in San Francisco, Orange County, Calif., and Hawaii.

Calvin Battle
Calvin Battle, 62, was a quiet man, but not when it came to sports, said his daughter, Janet Battle. "He liked the pro teams and he was a die-hard OU fan," she said.

On April 19, Battle and his wife, Peola, went to the Social Security office in the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building to apply for disability assistance because he had recently suffered a stroke. Peola Battle also died in the explosion.

Calvin Battle had worked as a machinist for Corken International, his daughter said.

She said her father did not judge people, but was very accepting of everyone he met. "And he loved the Lord," she said. Battle attended the Church of the Living God Temple 234.

He and his wife had been married 39 years. He had four daughters and a son.

Tylor Eaves
Eight-month-old Tylor Eaves was just beginning to pull up on things. His grandmother, Gloria Eaves Hardin, thought he'd probably be walking by nine months, just like her daughter Miya, Tylor's mother.

Miya Eaves worked at Standard Life, just a few blocks from America's Kids day-care center in the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. Tylor was just settling into the routine in the center, where he had started a week before the April 19 blast that took his life.

"He was a happy baby," Gloria Eaves recalled. "He was bossy and spoiled because he liked attention. He wanted to be able to see you all the time."

Tylor was a big, healthy baby, looking older than his 8 months.

"He was just getting into his personality, and he could get anything he wanted from us," Gloria Eaves said, adding that like his mother's side of the family, he had beautiful grayish-green eyes.

Carolyn Ann Kreymborg
She loved to learn and was working on her second degree in computer science at the University of Central Oklahoma. She also loved gardening and was especially fond of azaleas.

Carolyn Ann Kreymborg, 57, died in the explosion with her daughter, Michelle Reeder. They attended an azalea show in Oklahoma City as their last activity together.

Kreymborg, who was interested in art and enjoyed going to art museums, was an automation clerk for the Department of Housing and Urban Development.

Her husband is James Kreymborg.

Michelle Reeder
She loved gardening and adored cats.

Michelle Reeder, 33, died in the explosion with her mother, Carolyn A. Kreymborg, who also worked in the building.

Like her mother, Reeder had a special fondness for azaleas. An administrative assistant with the Federal Highway Administration, she was married to a Marine, Patrick Reeder, and was working to put him through college as he studied to be a history teacher.

Victoria J. Texter
Her VISA card program was such a model of excellence, Victoria J. Texter, 37, had recently been interviewed by a national credit union magazine for a story that now will serve as a tribute to her.

Texter was the VISA coordinator and a backup computer operator at the Federal Employees Credit Union, where she had worked the past 14 years.

A native of Chicago, Texter had lived in Oklahoma City since 1981.

Her husband, Jim, said she had been attending Rose State College, taking a variety of physical education courses.

She was a member of Sunnylane United Methodist Church, United Methodist Women and American Business Women's Association.

Texter enjoyed making porcelain dolls and growing perennial flowers in her garden.

A memorial fund has been established at her church, and a college trust fund for her son, James Texter III, 15, has been set up at the Federal Employees Credit Union.

Acts of Kindness

Oklahomans may donate money to the Heartland Scholarship Fund at commencement ceremonies across the date during the next few weeks. The fund is one of many acts of kindness extended to the victims of the blast and their families. Tax deductible donations may be mailed to the fund: Oklahoma State Regents for Higher Education, State Capitol Complex, 500 Education Building, Oklahoma City, OK 73105-4500

• Best Cleaners has offered to clean at no cost any clothing that rescue workers have worn in the relief efforts. Also, they will clean and package keepsake clothing of any child killed in the explosion.
• When rescue workers admired the caps of members of the Oklahoma City Running Club, it did not take long for Ron Kuykendall at Ron's Sports Store to make some more. He donated them to the workers and prepared a second batch after Barbara Beeman, running club president, presented a club contribution for even more caps. The hat supplier joined the efforts, and nearly 200 caps were given to out-of-state rescuers.
• The Neill Corporation, a health and beauty company based in Hammond, LA., has pledged $17,536 to the relief effort. It also donated 100 headbands and 500 tubes of sunblock to the rescue workers.
• Golf USA will sponsor a benefit auction from 4 to 7:30 PM Saturday at the Bricktown Brewery. Kenneth J. Griggy, president and CEO, said they sought donations from all of the more than 200 companies they do business with, and every one of them contributed.
• Simon Property Group, a shopping mall developer, arranged for 62 malls from around the country to send giant greeting cards to Heritage Park Mall. More than 50,000 signatures were collected. The cards will be on display through Monday.
• Edward D. Jones and Co., the St. Louis-based financial services firm, has donated $25,000 to the Oklahoma City Chapter of the American Red Cross in memory of the victims.
• Employees of the North Fort Myers billboard company in Fort Myers, Florida, plastered a local billboard with the message: "Oklahoma City, Our Hearts and Prayers Are With You." The words are seen daily by thousands of motorists on U.S. 41.
• The Presbyterian Health Foundation is contributing $100,000 to the Children's Hospital Fund. William Beard, treasurer of the foundation, said the hospital "has traditionally provided excellent health services to our youngest citizens... in this time of crises, they are doing an incredible job."
• The Sooner Unit of the American Contract Bridge League presented two checks totaling $10,000 from the local and national leagues to the Governor's Victim and Family Relief Fund.
• Conoco contributed $50,000 to the Governor's Victim and Family Relief Fund and $50,000 to the Heartland Scholarship Fund.

Coming to Terms With Blast: Ongoing Effort for Rescuers

Dr. Bryan Farha remembers watching rescue workers planning their strategy as heavy file cabinets dangled from the shell of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building above them.

Farha, chairman of the Department of Counseling Psychology at Oklahoma City University, was among those who saw firsthand the danger workers encountered at the bombed federal building. He talked and listened to them in front of the building when rescue efforts first began.

"I noticed there was an enormous amount of stress even when workers were not in the building," said Farha, a licensed professional counselor.

"I think the enormity of the situation tended to sink in when they stood back and watched. The ones who were in the building seemed under less stress because they were focused on the job they had to do."

During the more than two weeks of recovery and rescue efforts, workers were able to fight fatigue because of the massage therapy and counseling sessions offered after their shifts, Farha said.

They also were bolstered by the many letters, posters and banners sent to them from across the country.

However, in a few days, weeks or several months from now, the firefighters and rescue workers will begin to realize the full impact of that April day when a terrorist bomb killed more than 160 people and injured hundreds. They will begin reliving the times when they pulled bodies - especially those of children - from the rubble.

Farha said the rescue workers will go through anger, depression and denial in the upcoming weeks.

Those who have good coping skills will not need professional counseling. However, the more intense workers or those who do not express their emotions will need professional help or face problems that could cause them to retire from their jobs, divorce their spouses or even commit suicide.

"I don't think they will be able to completely get this out of their minds. We will have this in our memories forever," Farha said. "But the issue is not to eliminate the memories, but to learn how to deal with the reality of this tragedy."

After he counseled rescue workers, Farha was interviewed by Army and Air Force officials for a videotape he was told would be sent to the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. Although not given specific reasons for the interview, Farha said he was told the videotape also would be sent to the White House.

He then went to Denver for the American Counseling Association's national convention where it was announced that free counseling would be available nationwide for family members and friends of victims who don't live in Oklahoma. Association officials said Oklahoma's mental health community could provide the needed counseling in this state.

Farha said he found during the Denver conference that people were much more respectful of Oklahoma than before. Some said they would now move to the state "in a minute."

Farha also found Oklahomans were much more compassionate toward each other. Hardened rescue workers and others he knew became much more sensitive to others after April 19.

He said he believes these attitudes in Oklahoma and outside of it will continue.

"Our emotional and physical responses will be lessened as time goes by but definitely will not be eliminated," he said. "I sense that this tragedy heightened our awareness to be more understanding of others."

Signs of Trouble

Family or friends of workers involved in the rescue and recovery efforts at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building are advised to look for an increase in the following behavior patterns:

• Sleep disturbances;
• Inability to concentrate at work or school;
• Irritability;
• Anger and/or depression.

Symbol of Tragedy

It took seven seconds for the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building - the city's symbol of tragedy since it was bombed April 19 - to fall into a pile of rubble.

The demolition of the building where 167 lives were lost came at 7:01 a.m. Tuesday.

Photographers from The Oklahoman took the pictures on these two pages from 10 different locations, showing the remains of the building as explosive charges blew out the support columns, and the building collapsed on itself.

Those who watched expressed many different emotions as they remembered the nation's worst terrorist attack.

[image]

Rich Barnard, a senior at Moore High School, had a final examination at 8:15 a.m. Tuesday, but he was at NW 5 and Broadway earlier with several classmates. "We need to show the bomber that we're starting over, and we're going to be better," he said.

[image]

Cherilyn Walden was downtown with relatives Tuesday morning. "I don't know why we're down here. We're all running around aimlessly. It's like we're looking for something, we just don't know what.

"It doesn't even seem real to me that it ever happened," Walden said of the April 19 bombing. "And now that the building' gone, it's like it never happened."

[image]

Amanda Sutton, 19, drove in Monday night from Tulsa with her 2-year-old son, Zachary, to witness the demolition. "I've watched it ever since it happened," Sutton said of the April 19 explosion and its aftermath. "You can't help but think of all those poor people who were in there."

[image]

"I'm glad it's gone. It was terrifying to see it come down. But I can't imagine what it was like the day that it happened," said Barbara Duggan, 59, of Oklahoma City.

[image]

David Parrett, an investigator in the Oklahoma County district attorney's office, said he originally didn't want to view the implosion firsthand, but felt compelled to go.

Parrett said he was familiar with the building because several of his friends worked there and his son, Brett, 4, had attended the second-floor day care center there a year ago. "You remember the way things were before the bombing, especially the kids. I'd pull up my car beside the building when I picked up my son and you could see the kids in the day care with their faces and hands against the window," Parrett said.

[image]

The Demolition Up Close

The Oklahoman on Tuesday operated a pool of three sets of unmanned, remote-controlled cameras to get close-up pictures of the federal building demolition for newspapers, wire services and magazines.

There were two sets of five cameras, and one set of two cameras within the protective perimeter around the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. The lenses of the two cameras closest to the federal building were damaged by debris, but the film inside was recovered and processed.

The 12 still cameras shot three to four frames per second. They were operated by The Oklahoman's director of photography George R. Wilson, who used remote-control buttons.

He was near the corner of NW 5 and Hudson, close to the Regency Tower apartments, to trigger the cameras during the implosion. Some 2,000 feet of wire was run between the cameras and the remote-control buttons.

Scott Andrews, with Nikon Professional Services, assisted in the process. Andrews is based in Washington, D.C., and helps with large-scale remote photography projects worldwide.

"I Think I'll Go Have a Good Cry"

At 7:01 a.m. Tuesday, Dennis Garland thought he would burst out crying as the Murrah Building tumbled to the ground.

"I sure wanted to cry - but I held it in. I think I'll go home and have a good cry there," the Oklahoma City man said.

Garland, 45, was among the estimated 2,000 to 3,000 spectators who decided that watching the implosion on television or sleeping in or doing something else on a cloudy Tuesday morning wasn't acceptable.

They had to be there.

"I felt like Oklahoma City was finally free," said Hartwell McNeely, a retired worker who years ago hauled off debris for a local wrecking company.

•••

Elaine Harris of Edmond noted that the implosion "happened so quickly, it gave me goose bumps." And "I've still got goose bumps," she said about 15 minutes after the demolition.

•••

Margaret Luck and her daughter from DeSoto, Texas, got up early Tuesday anddrove to Oklahoma City. "This is part of history. But I'm glad it's over. I'm numb," Luck said.

•••

They had gone to their grandson's graduation in Holton, Kan., and were coming through Oklahoma City on their way back to their Houston home. George Gurley, 65, and wife Barbara, 60, decided to stop Monday night and see the Murrah implosion Tuesday morning. "It's such a sad thing. How could anybody have blown up the building in the first place?" asked George Gurley.

•••

Rick Yohn, a steelworker from Tulsa, took a comp day on Tuesday to travelwest on the turnpike." Oklahoma City is our sister city. Heck, this could have been us," he said of the federal building bombing. After the Murrah building came down, Yohn said, "I hope this eases everybody's pain."

•••

Victor Oswald of El Reno sat on top of his vehicle parked on the east side of Broadway between NW 4 and NW 5. He had been there since 1 a.m. Tuesday waiting for the federal building demolition. "I'm not morbid, or just overly curious. I believe that I needed to be here. We need to go on," he said.

•••

Sam Ott, 44, a lawyer who works only blocks away, nodded his head in satisfaction and strode off to his office as the remainder of the building came down.

•••

Paula Lombard said she had felt the original explosion from her home in Luther, about 25 miles away. "The people don't have to stare at it anymore and see the heartache. Now, it's only in the people's faces," she said.

•••

Donna Murray, her husband, Mark, and daughter, Melissa, were at the implosion. "I don't want to see it standing anymore. If you see it standing, it reminds you of the tragedy," Donna Murray said. Added husband Mark, "We have to get over this. I'd like to see our flags fly at full staff again."

•••

Brenda Kerley came downtown before taking her 7-year-old son, Tyler, to school. "I cried," she said of the implosion.

Survivors Working To Shed Memories

A thunderstorm, the boom of the Murrah Building implosion, lights suddenly going off in the middle of the day. For Social Security employees Liz Thomas and Tillie Lerma, these were eerie reminders of the 30 minutes they spent trapped in a stockroom April 19.

This week, the two women returned to work at the agency's new office in Shepherd Mall with a greater appreciation for life, for family and especially for friends and co-workers.

"I want to give people hope - miracles do happen. We're proof of that," Thomas said Wednesday.

At 8:30 a.m. April 19, the two bilingual service representatives were reorganizing a section of the Social Security office stockroom in the southeast corner on the federal building's first floor. Another service representative, Gina Hernandez, was there to help.

At 9 a.m., Thomas wanted to go back to her desk, but Lerma stopped her friend. "We won't get a chance to clean it up again," Lerma said.

Two minutes later, the women were jolted by the impact of what they later learned was the bomb that sheared off the north side of the federal building.

"Those couple of minutes ... if we had not been in the stockroom, we probably would have died," said Lerma, 35.

Lerma said she and Thomas thought perhaps crews that constructed new rest rooms near the stockroom had done a poor job and that was why the wall had caved in.

The women were pushed up against steel shelving, and when other wooden shelving disconnected from the walls and fell upon them, a triangular barrier was created around them, protecting them against falling debris.

All the pipes busted and water began pouring in on the floor, eventually covering their feet.

"It got dark, and then we couldn't breathe because of all the insulation. We felt like we were suffocating," said Thomas, 26.

Lerma said she saw someone's legs on the floor, and soon realized her supervisor, Carol Bowers of Yukon, had been knocked into the stockroom by the blast and was killed instantly.

Lerma, Thomas and Hernandez began screaming for help.

"We heard someone say, 'We're coming.' It was our assistant manager, Dennis Purifoy," Thomas said.

The women went into a nearby skylight area and saw that debris was falling from the building's upper levels. Until that time, they were unaware the rest of the building had been devastated.

Rescuers who made it to the southeast corner where the skylight was located tried to hand the women what looked like a wooden picket fence. As it turned out, the fencing wasn't long enough or sturdy enough to reach through a break in the window so they could climb out, Thomas said.

Disappointed, Thomas began wondering what had happened to the rest of the Social Security office. She said a General Services Administration worker crawled by and told them, "You all are lucky to be alive. I'm not finding anyone over here."

A few minutes later a ladder from a fire truck was slipped down into the skylight opening. The three women were able to climb the 10 to 15 feet out of the building to safety.

"We were in shock. All we did was just walk," said Lerma.

The women walked south to the Bank of Oklahoma in search of a telephone. From there, they went to the east side of the Murrah Building to let officials know they were safe. When they came around to the building's north side, they saw what had happened.

"When I saw the building was gone, I felt like all the blood had drained out of me. I said, 'Oh my God! Look at the building!" Lerma said.

"When they told us that it was a bomb, I thought, 'Oh my God - the children,'" Lerma added, referring to the second-floor day care.

The two returned to work Monday and learned - as they had expected - many of their co-workers were on sick leave due to injuries received in the bombing.

With crews still working to fix up the new Social Security office, and employees busily working, the lights suddenly went out one afternoon, Lerma said. It made her scream, she said.

"It was kind of panic," Lerma said.

Hearing the sounds of Tuesday's implosion of the Murrah Federal Building on a radio broadcast also made her feel nervous, she said.

The roar of thunder that accompanied a storm later that night also reminded her of the bombing.

"It all just brings flashbacks," Lerma said.

With their emotional wounds healing, both women said they are grateful to be alive.

"We just feel like faith and the power of prayer really works," said Thomas. "We have friends we thought would be in the hospital for a long time, and now they're out."

Thomas said the whole experience has convinced her that every day should be lived to the fullest.

"You never know when your last day on Earth is going to be. You have to really embrace your soul man.

"With family, friends, co-workers - mend your fences before it's too late," she said.

"Secondary" Victims Helped

A helping hand is being offered to people considered "secondary" victims of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building bombing.

"There are just all kinds of people who ... who don't fit the square holes in terms of getting help from agencies," said the Rev. C. Dene Brown, director of Skyline Urban Ministry.

Secondary victims are those whose primary resources have been lost because of the tragedy, Brown said.

Skyline has hired a staff person to go into the inner-city areas to identify the people who might be reluctant or unsure about how to get help, Brown said.

"Our church has decided to take the approach that if we run into a real need, we're going to try to do something about it," Brown said.

Meanwhile, local shelters are noticing an increase in the number of homeless seeking assistance.

Antoinette Hinton, the Salvation Army's social services director, said counseling services have been offered to people staying at the organization's shelter.

After the bombing, the Salvation Army housed about 25 men who had been staying at the YMCA when the explosion occurred.

While securing counseling services for these men, officials noticed the shelter's regular clientele seemed to be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, she said.

"For a lot of these folks, they don't feel safe in walking by public buildings now," Hinton said.

Mickey Kalman, director of City Rescue Mission, said his shelter has seen an increase in homeless, most of whom have said they simply want to be around other people now.

At Skyline, director Brown said the Oklahoma Conference of the United Methodist Church has received money that is available for helping people who missed out on other forms of assistance.

Skyline also offers referrals.

Together in the Heartland

The Survivor's Voice:
"I have been bothered by a few things since April 19. I have been having sleeping problems and also loud noises really bug me since it happened."

- Casey Cordes of Harrah, whose ears rang for 24 hours after the explosion, and who then felt a sensation "like when you're diving and you hit deep water." Cordes, 19, was working outside the Globe Life Building's parking garage on the corner of Robert S. Kerr and Robinson when the blast went off. The impact threw Cordes 20 feet onto the concrete. He suffered a concussion, ear damage and deep bruises to one hip. Despite his own pain, Cordes retrieved cars for dozens of Globe Life employees who were then able to quickly leave the area. His presence of mind didn't go undetected by his employers. Cordes said he got a "nice, big bonus." Today, Cordes said he's fine physically, except for the sleeplessness and loud noises.

• Acts of Kindness:
Campbell Elementary School children in Cass City, Mich., celebrated their last day of school with an "All American Celebration." The local VFW Post 3644 displayed 12 flags on the school's playground. Students decorated a wheelbarrow and filled it with $526 in pennies for Oklahoma bombing victims.

Big Brothers/Big Sisters of Greater Oklahoma City has created the "Deveroux Children's Fund. " Castine Deveroux died in the blast. Her two youngest children are involved as "littles" in the Big Brothers/Big Sisters program. For information call 943-8075.

Golf USA sponsored an auction of golf equipment and accessories that netted more than $12,000 for bomb victims. Golf manufacturers and vendors from across the country donated items to be auctioned. Proceeds went to the governor's relief fund.

TRW Avionics and Surveillance Group, based in San Diego, gave $21,840 to Feed the Children and the Salvation Army. Several company divisions collected the donations.

• Emotional Difficulties:
Faculty members in the OU Health Sciences Center's psychiatry department - in cooperation with The Oklahoman - will answer general questions. Leave a message at 475-3424 or write to: Emotional Difficulties, The Oklahoman, Box 25125, Oklahoma City 73125.

Personal help is available at the OU Health Sciences Center's free hot line at 271-5575, the Project Heartland counseling center at 858-7070 or its 24-hour hot line at (800) 522-9054.

Q I have always found it helpful to read books on coping with various problems in my life. My friends know this and several have asked me about what books they might read as they cope with the bombing. Do you have any suggestions? - R.B.

A Books can indeed be a great source of comfort when sorting through emotions such as those experienced in the wake of the bombing. Visiting your local bookstore or library and consulting with the personnel there is a good start. I would also suggest the following titles:

• The Grief Recovery Handbook: A Step-By-Step Program for Moving Beyond Loss by John James and Frank Cherry
• No Time for Goodbyes: Coping with Sorrow, Anger and Injustice After a Tragic Death by Janice Harris Lord
• The Mourning Handbook by Helen Fitzgerald
• Trauma and Recovery by Judith Herman Lewis
• Aftermath by Mariann Hybele-Steer
• I Can't Get Over It: A Handbook for Trauma Survivors by Aphrodite Matsakis
• Post-Trauma Stress by Frank Parkinson
• The Grieving Child: A Parent's Guide by Helen Fitzgerald;
• Helping Children Cope With Separation and Loss by Claudia Jewett Jarratt
• Children and Trauma: A Parent's Guide to Helping Children Heal by Cynthia Monahon

- Dr. Ronald Krug,
OU Health Sciences Center

• A Phone Call Away
The Oklahoman’s Access Line has several bombing-related topics. Call 478-5100, then press the following extensions:

7301 - Express your feelings.
7302 - Feelings from other people.
7308 - Coping with emotions.
7309 - Helping your children cope.
7333 - Helping a grieving person.
7346 - Oklahoma City Municipal Employees Choir.
1031 - Menu of fund drives.
1033 - Menu of other categories.

• Deadline
Individuals and business owners who suffered damages or uninsured losses can apply for help by calling FEMA's registration number, (800) 462-9029 or TDD (800) 462-7585. The deadline is Monday.

• How To Help
Donations may be sent to:

Gov. Frank Keating's Victim & Family Relief Fund
Office of the Governor
State Capitol, Oklahoma City, OK 73105

Mayor Ron Norick's Victims Relief Fund
Oklahoma City City Hall
200 N Walker, Oklahoma City 73102

Additional fund information is available by calling The Oklahoman's Access Line, dial 478-5100. Funds are listed in categories 7324 through 7330.

• Your Connection
If you have a question for a public official, write to Your Connection, The Oklahoman, Box 25125, Oklahoma City 73125. Please direct your question to a specific public official and include your name, city where you live and phone number so we can get back with you if we have any questions. Your phone number will not be used in any story.

Q I have a question for Gov. Frank Keating: What happened to all of the funds that came into your office for the Luster children?

- Elizabeth Marie Luster, 15, one of six orphaned children of bombing victims Robert and Donna Luster of Guthrie.

A We found no record of any money earmarked specifically for the Luster family. If they had a specific financial need stemming from the tragedy, we would urge them to contact the Oklahoma City Community Foundation.

- John Cox, Keating's deputy press secretary.

Together in the Heartland

• The Survivor's Voice:
"Physically, my injuries were healed within two weeks. Emotionally, it will take longer, I think."

- Noel Osborn, 38, of Oklahoma City, who was working at the Water Resources Board.

Osborn suffered cuts, bruises and a torn eardrum in the explosion, but she said she suffered a secondary injury from those who focused only on those who were injured or died in the federal building.

"It would mean a lot to the people in this state agency if their plight could be acknowledged," she said. "Our whole agency, which employs about 80 people, was hit so hard."

, Osborn said she will see an audiologist about her hearing problems but hasn't experienced much hearing loss since the explosion. She's also participating in group counseling offered through her agency.

• Acts of Kindness:
The Oklahoma Federation of Chapters of the National Association of Retired Federal Employees donated $110,000 to the Federal Family Relief Assistance Fund. The check reflects efforts from NARFE members nationwide.

Oklahoma's Mother of the Year Barbara Thompson got signatures from the Mothers of the Year from American Mothers Inc. to pass along their sympathies and expressions of love. The letter stated: "The mothers of this country share your grief. We extend to you our sympathy, we open our arms to you to offer you the strength of our nation's mothers."

KRON Computers donated two computers to the First United Methodist Church of Oklahoma City. The church, across the street from the Murrah Building, sustained heavy damage from the blast. "We just wanted to do something to help the church get back on its feet," said Todd Birdsong, manager of KRON Computers.

Enterprise Square, USA in Oklahoma City recently received a pop-up angel card created by Bobby J. Jones, a volunteer at the Albuquerque Children's Museum in Albuquerque, N.M. The card was accompanied by handwritten notes from children. The card will be on display all summer.

• Emotional Difficulties:
Faculty members in the OU Health Sciences Center's psychiatry department - in cooperation with The Oklahoman - will answer general questions. If you have a question, leave a message at 475-3424 or write to:

Emotional Difficulties
The Oklahoman
P.O. Box 25125
Oklahoma City, OK 73125

Personal help is available at the OU Health Sciences Center's free hot line at 271-5575, the Project Heartland counseling center at 858-7070 or its 24-hour hot line at (800) 522-9054.

Q Since the bombing, I've gained 20 pounds and seem to have lost my control to stop eating the foods that are bad for me. I think it's because I'm depressed. What can I do? - T.C.

A It sounds like you have a good handle on the cause of your sudden lack of portion control. It is common in our society to reach for food to soothe our feelings of emptiness, loss, helplessness and depression. Other common methods for trying to cope are excessive shopping, drinking, gambling and abuse of prescription or illegal drugs.

Find a verbal outlet for your feelings - family, friends, a counselor, a support group, co-workers or whoever. When you are feeling depressed or sad and don't have the opportunity to talk through your emotions, try exercising. Try to make these new activities, rather than food, your focus, and see if you can gradually revert back to more appropriate eating patterns within a few weeks to a couple of months. If not, then you might want to consider seeking help from a mental health counselor and/or a registered dietitian.

- Dr. Wanda Draper,
OU Health Sciences Center

• A Phone Call Away:
The Oklahoman's Access Line has several bombing-related topics. Call 478-5100, then press extensions:

7301 - Express your feelings.
7302 - Feelings from other people.
7308 - Tips on how to cope.
7309 - How to help your children.
7333 - How to help a grieving person.
7346 - Oklahoma City Municipal Employees Choir.
7386 - Remarks made by Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York.
7387 - Information about Small Business Relief Fund.
7389 - Hollywood stars' words of encouragement.
7390 - Football stars' words of encouragement.
1031 - Menu of fund drives.
1033 - Menu of other categories.

• How To Help:
Donations may be sent to:

Gov. Frank Keating's Victim & Family Relief Fund
Office of the Governor
State Capitol, Oklahoma City, OK 73105

Mayor Ron Norick's Victims Relief Fund
Oklahoma City City Hall
200 N Walker, Oklahoma City, OK 73102

• Your Connection
Q My question is for Gov. Frank Keating. My husband was working downtown April 19 . He was within a block or two of the Murrah Building and was slightly injured. He assisted with the rescue and did not even take a day off work until three weeks later. Like all other Oklahomans, he did not want to complain when others were suffering more tragically. However, our car was destroyed in the bomb. Our insurance company was extremely accommodating. Our car was covered, and we have already purchased another vehicle. What I would like to ask is that you waive the excise tax and registration fees that we (and all the other 2,000 or so people who had to purchase new cars) had to pay. It would be an act of kindness and make others feel that the state cares about all who were affected by the bomb.

- Patty Clark, Oklahoma City

A The Victims and Families Relief Fund will pay for the tag, tax and title, up to $1,000, for any vehicle which replaces one destroyed during the April 19 bombing. If an individual has already received a new vehicle and has already paid for the tag, tax and title, the Victims and Families Relief Fund will reimburse that individual as long as proper documentation is presented showing that their vehicle was totaled. A short form also must be completed. More information is available from the Oklahoma City Community Foundation at (405) 235-2555.

- John Cox, Keating's deputy press secretary

If you have a question for a public official, write to:

Your Connection
The Oklahoman
P.O. Box 25125, Oklahoma City 73125

Please direct your question to a specific public official and include your name, city where you live and phone number in case we have any questions. Your phone number will not be used in any story.

Fateful April Morning Began Like Any Other

The car pool arrived at Rick Tomlin's home at 6 a.m. Wednesday. When he got in, the car pulled out on the rural state highway near his house, then picked up a major thoroughfare to take the four government employees to downtown Oklahoma City.

Rick hadn't been with his co-workers and co-passengers since the week before. He and his wife, Tina, had spent Easter in St. Louis, then drove through heavy rain to get home late Monday. Rick had decided to sleep late Tuesday morning.

But Wednesday, April 19, he went over in his mind the work waiting in his office at the U.S. Department of Transportation in the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. Matters had to be cleared before he hit the road again Thursday for the DOT regional office in Fort Worth, Texas.

The morning was cool and cloudy, an Oklahoma April day that could turn into any kind of weather. Temperatures in the 70s were predicted, but elsewhere in the state, towns were conducting the annual spring ritual of cleaning up after severe windstorms.

Drive-time talk radio focused on the first 100 days in office of Gov. Frank Keating, whose ride in on the Republican election sweep promised new directions for the state government. Legislators debated tax cuts for bingo parlors and state funds for veterans' benefits.

The top story of the day, though, was the renovation of downtown Oklahoma City that had captured the imagination and the excitement of its citizens. Dreams of river canals, professional sports facilities, arts complexes and hotels were finally coming true. After a decade of spiraling boom-and-bust economics, residents had made a desperate move toward recovery. They voted for a sales tax that would finance the $285-million Metropolitan Area Projects plan.

Tuesday, the city council had haggled over contracts for a minor league baseball stadium just east of the downtown business district. It was a pleasant problem.

Today, though, city leaders and the governor started their morning at the Myriad Convention Center, about five blocks from the federal building. They convened at 6:45 a.m. for a popular annual event, the Metropolitan Oklahoma City Prayer Breakfast, co-sponsored by Mayor Ron Norick.

The 1,200 guests included the mayor, Keating, Lt. Gov. Mary Fallin, District Attorney Bob Macy and Police Chief Sam Gonzales. Gathered over sausage and eggs, biscuits and gravy, were representatives of nearly every major corporation and public utility in the area and other civic and religious leaders.

The breakfasters passed the first of the 11,000 guests scurrying to open the Midsouth-west Foodservice Convention in another part of the Myriad and then settled in to listen to a motivational speaker pump them into a new resolve to put their religion into their workdays.

The guests spoke of how great it was to live in Oklahoma City and how much better it was going to be when the renovation was complete.

The breakfast adjourned at 8:30 a.m., and most of the public officials and business leaders of Oklahoma City were soon back on the streets and on their way to their jobs.

•

Pamela Argo was up this morning, as every morning, at 4 a.m. She sometimes arrived at work by 5 a.m. If she could log on to her computer in the Quality Resources Management and Utility Review department at Presbyterian Hospital before the doctors arrived, her work went much faster.

In that hour between rising and leaving home, she was locked into her usual efficient routine, which revolved around her animals. Most were strays that Pam had found and carried home.

The three cats sat in the bathroom while she showered - white Neige and black Samson and orange Pumpkin settling into their regular spots on the windowsill or the sink or the edge of the bathtub. Pam carried on conversations with them while she dressed.

On April 19, she chose a typical outfit - black skirt, long black tunic shirt, black mesh hose, her big black bag and a black hat.

•

Reticent, quiet Dr. Charles Hurlburt let his exuberant wife, Jean, lure him into retirement activities that kept them almost as busy as the careers they hadn't quite left.

He went with her to cake decorating classes, and she convinced him they should both be Red Cross volunteers. They had recently completed training so they could assist in potential disasters.

But retirement also meant paperwork and red tape. Early April 19, they took Jean's Social Security papers and left the house.

•

Tuesday evening, Scott and Sharon Coyne sprayed their home for fleas, and thinking it would be safer for them and their only daughter, 14-month-old Jaci Rae, they went to spend the night at Sharon's mother's home. Both families lived in Moore.

She was a morning baby. "Arms up!" her mother said, and Jaci's hands flew high to slip through petite sleeves. Mother and baby played hide-and-seek with tiny fingers as they adjusted her clothing.

Sometimes they sang together. Jaci's favorite was "Itsy Bitsy Spider," and she could almost - but not quite - make the shapes with her fingers.

Pete DeMaster had an office at the Murrah Building and another at Tinker Air Force Base. But he spent a lot of time on the road, collecting personal background information on people who applied for top security clearances from the Defense Department.

He usually drove from home to Tinker and picked up a government car, but Pete had a new vehicle of his own, a 1995 silver Oldsmobile. He drove straight downtown to the Murrah Building, leaving at the same time as his wife, Karen, who tried to beat the tardy bell at Northeast High School where she was vice principal.

•

Rick Tomlin was frequently on the road in his job as a motor vehicle safety officer. He developed programs, supervised inspections and worked with highway patrol divisions as well as private trucking operations.

Rick, 46, was a conscientious government employee. Signs of waste rankled him. His arrival at the federal building at 6:45 a.m. gave him 15 minutes to start the coffee pot; he was the only coffee drinker in his office, so he believed he shouldn't brew on "government time."

Rick and his wife, Tina, were rarely able to talk on the phone when he was out of town, so they made the most of the instrument when he was office-bound. Tina, who worked in a photo processing lab at Glamour Shots, called him when she took a break precisely at 9 a.m.

This morning, he looked forward to the call.

•

Dr. Charles Hurlburt retired six years ago from the University of Oklahoma College of Dentistry, where he taught radiology to freshmen students for the previous 16 years.

Jean Hurlburt retired as a registered nurse at Deaconess Hospital but worked as many hours as Social Security would allow, saving her money for the travels they were learning to enjoy.

Charles was raised by missionary parents in the Belgian Congo. At age 24, he came back to the United States to study dentistry at Wheaton College in Illinois. There he met Jean, a nursing student.

Jean loved nursing, and she was the image of a classic, nurturing nurse. The staff at Deaconess was well aware that she checked out, then frequently sneaked back into the hospital in the evening to sit with troubled patients.

In contrast to his wife's energy, Charles was a quiet, humble man. He had a pacemaker, but he drove people to medical appointments and visited hospital shut-ins, and he didn't talk about what he did.

She learned to paint china plates, advancing from flowers to houses and scenery. He took care of the pool; together they gardened, creating a garden for their grandchildren.

They took senior citizen bus tours. Jean loved them and spent hours before the trips putting little verses, puzzles and cartoons in envelopes to entertain strangers on the bus. They flew to Israel and cruised to the Caribbean.

Their next trip was to be to San Antonio on April 21.

•

Sharon and Jaci Coyne went downtown together every day. Sharon worked in the Federal Court Clerk's office and Jaci stayed in the day-care center in the Murrah Building. With Sharon's sister employed by the U.S. Marshals Service and many family friends throughout the government offices, they joked about "the federal family" and Jaci's future as a U.S. attorney.

Jaci had her own small rituals. She liked to throw her bottle out the car door as soon as Sharon opened it; sometimes Sharon crawled on the garage floor in her office clothes to retrieve it.

Pete DeMaster planned for a career in the Air Force, but he was stationed with an AWACS unit at Tinker when he was divorced. More than the Air Force, he wanted custody of his daughter, Kristin, then 9 years old. He left the military as a captain and joined the Defense Department as an investigator.

Fatherly activities took him one day to a neighborhood swim party, and there he met Karen, who lived two houses away from him. She was raising a son, Brian, a year younger than Kristin.

They married 13 years ago.

A new stepson delighted Pete for several reasons, one of which was that it gave him access to the Boy Scouts again. His father had been a leader, Pete became an Eagle Scout, and the kind of kids scouting attracted were kids Pete liked.

But even after Brian announced he wasn't interested in scouting, Pete stayed, an avid Scout leader.

And, his friends teased him, a "perpetual Eagle Scout."

His emotions were let loose for only two causes - hockey games which he attended faithfully, and Karen, who he loved.

They would celebrate their 13th wedding anniversary April 24. Their tradition was dinner out and a dozen red roses.

•

Pam Argo, 36, still had family in Stigler, population 2,500 in eastern Oklahoma. She left there the day after high school graduation, but the close family ties held.

Pam's dad traveled frequently to Oklahoma City to work on Pam's 60-year-old brick house. The new fence was almost finished.

She and her husband, Tomy, had separated four years ago. They hadn't divorced because he was ill, and she continued to carry him on her insurance policy; sometimes she helped nurse him. Tomy died in March, and Pam took a much-needed vacation in Puerto Vallarta.

Her favorite color was black. From 200 hats, she picked one to wear to work each day in windy Oklahoma where hats are not a fashion staple. Her free spirit, in fact, was kept in control by a rigid sense of order.

The huge weekly calendar that sat on her desk listed her activities in detail.

The square for April 19 showed that her car insurance was due, that a friend needed a ride from the airport at 3 p.m. and that she had to complete paperwork for Tomy's burial benefits. For that last chore, she had made an appointment at the Social Security office at 9 a.m.

Just before 9 a.m., Pete DeMaster called another DOD agent in Lawton for some information. The agent promised to call him back in 10 minutes.

Pam Argo complained to her co-workers about having to go to the Social Security office; she had hoped to be able to conduct the business by phone or mail. She took a taxi the mile from the hospital.

"I'll be back in 10 minutes," she announced.

Just after 9 a.m., a Social Security employee stepped into the waiting area and called Pam's name. Another worker looked out the first floor window and noted aloud that a woman dressed in flashy black clothes - readily recognizable as Pam - had left a cab and was walking up the steps.

Sharon Coyne dropped the diaper bag in its place and handed Jaci over to the day-care teacher. "Mama's got to go to work," she told her.

She kissed her goodbye and said, "I love you."

Jaci smiled her answer.

The Hurlburts felt fortunate. They found a parking spot for their Toyota van right at the corner of the federal building at NW 5 and Harvey. At 9 a.m., they were standing in line in the Social Security office.

When she took her 9 o'clock break, Tina Tomlin immediately called her husband. She wanted him to know she had made it to the photo lab safely. Rick confided his concern about the work that had piled up during his days off.

Over the phone, Tina heard a loud noise. The line went dead.

It was 9:02.

An Excerpt by Heather Taylor

My adrenaline was the only thing that was keeping me going, because I hadn't slept for twenty-four hours and I didn't realize how serious the situation was. I heard some people screaming and ran over to this man who looked just like my grandfather. The man had severe lacerations on his scalp and neck, from falling glass. He was still breathing and was awake. He was shaking, a sign of shock. Dr. Spengler checked his lung sounds and yelled real loud, "Take a deep breath."

I left Dr. Spengler to see about a police officer who had fallen. He was lying on the ground, screaming that his back was burning. EMSA trucks began to arrive, but I was the only trained rescue worker there. I grabbed a C collar. I was yelling at the cop to hold still, since he probably had a cervical-spinal injury. I placed the collar on him. Someone got a long spine board and we strapped him to it and an ambulance took him away.

I realized that I didn't have any personal equipment on, and the scene was not safe and secure. We are taught that paramedics are not useful if they are dead paramedics. So I grabbed some gloves and gave some to the doctor. While I was putting them on, I looked up and saw a man walking on what was left of the third floor. I told Dr. Spengler that we needed to get him down because he was missing his right arm.

The south side of the building was the worst. Dr. Spengler decided we needed to set up the triage (an area where victims are given priority according to their condition), since no one else was doing it. More and more people started to arrive with the equipment we needed. The was the moment when I got scared. Dr. Spengler gave me triage tags and told me to follow him around and tag the people minor, moderate, critical or dead.

On the curb outside the building, the wounded were lined up. If they were talking, I tagged them minor; if they were bleeding severely, I tagged them moderate; if they were unconscious, I tagged them critical; and if they were not breathing, I tagged them dead.

As the firemen were bringing out the wounded, I tagged the first child dead. I heard someone tell me there was once a day care on the second floor. After that, I found myself making a temporary morgue - some call it "the church." A priest had arrived, and he followed right behind me, praying for the lost ones. The fireman were bringing out so many dead. As soon as I would take one child, another child was laid next to it. I remember one man, a bystander who was helping me, said, "Why all of the children, why?" I just watched him cry.

About six more dead children were brought out. I said a little prayer for them as I tagged them.

I will never forget my experience with this horrible tragedy. As I start my career in emergency medicine, nothing I will do will ever compare.

Blast's Emotional Wounds Deep, Painful

Late afternoons are the most poignant for Judy Kidwell.

That's when Kidwell, who works in the basement of the federal courthouse in Oklahoma City, often walks down the hall to the snack bar for a quiet cup of coffee.

Sitting there, Kidwell finds herself looking for friends in adjacent booths.

The young woman who brings a book to read. The two guys who always have the best jokes. The woman she compares notes with about kids.

Then the sadness comes. Kidwell knows she won't be seeing those faces ever again. All died in the April 19 bombing.

Kidwell was injured in the blast. At 9 a.m., she had walked across the street to the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building and was just inside the double doors on the first floor when the explosion occurred. Kidwell suffered a broken elbow and ankle, and some hearing loss.

She returned to work eight days later.

The emotional effects, Kidwell said, have been the biggest problem she's had to deal with.

"It's hard to explain to anyone not there how it felt. All your emotional security blankets were pulled away - that fast! " she said, snapping her fingers. "I don't know why I'm alive, and somebody 10 feet away from me died."

Marsha Kight has asked those "why" questions herself.

Frankie Ann Merrell, Kight's 23-year-old daughter, died in the bombing. A worker in the Federal Employees Credit Union, which was located in the Murrah Building, Merrell is survived by her husband, Charles, and 2-year-old daughter, Morgan, whom Kight now is helping to raise.

"Having my daughter die in a terrorist bombing is harder to accept than if she had been killed in an auto accident," Kight said. "My daughter's husband and I have good days and bad days, but weekends are the worst."

Mark and Joni Alderton initially did not question their good fortune after the bombing. Daughter Katie, then 20 months old, had been in the YMCA day-care center and received only minor cuts in the blast.

For the Aldertons, April 19 initially had started out lucky. Joni, who was pregnant, had given birth at 4 a.m. to a son. The baby was five weeks premature but appeared fine, doctors at Norman Regional Hospital assured the parents.

Mark, who was with his wife in Norman, had arranged for Katie and her sister, Sarah, 4, to be dropped off at their respective schools in Oklahoma City. He heard about the bombing in the hospital coffee shop.

On the television in Joni's room, the couple was horrified to see Katie's teacher being carried away with a big bloody gash in her head.

"We panicked," Joni Alderton said. "And it didn't help that a lot of TV coverage confused the Y day-care kids with the kids in the federal building day-care center."

When Norman officials told the distraught parents that all roads into the city were clogged, they started trying to get news about Katie by telephone. It did not help that neither parent knew what clothes their daughter had been wearing.

After nearly eight frantic hours of repeated phone calls to every hospital in Oklahoma City, the Red Cross and a host of other emergency agencies, the couple learned their little girl's whereabouts.

"Katie had quite a lot of blood on her clothes and in her hair, but most of the blood was not hers," said Mark. "She had this little smile frozen on her face. When we got to our house, she kissed the door, kissed the stairs, kissed the refrigerator and kissed her high chair. Then she cried all night."

Katie's OK, the Aldertons recalled thinking. They believed the worst part of their bombing ordeal was over.

But Katie's crying continued in the weeks afterward. She also had endless nightmares, wide mood swings and daymares.

"We called them little nervous breakdowns," Joni Alderton said. "She'd curl up in a fetal position and cover her head in the middle of the floor. She'd cry and cry, 'People hurt! Help!'"

During a family vacation in July, Katie began re-enacting the trauma, performing CPR on her teddy bear.

"If she heard a siren or saw a fire truck, she'd freak out," Joni Alderton said. "She was absolutely terrified."

Meanwhile, older sister Sarah had begun expressing qualms of her own. "Why did you put Katie in a school that blowed up?" she scolded her parents, over and over. She also had lurid nightmares and became fixated about death.

Joni and Mark Alderton began to doubt their parenting abilities. Each also had stored up guilt over not being there to protect Katie during the bombing.

"We had this perception that all the Y children were OK. The media and everybody said so," Joni Alderton said. "But we knew our kids were not OK, and we were not OK. So we must be these bad parents."

During a birthday party for another Y day-care center child in August, Joni Alderton learned other parents were having similar experiences.

That's when she called Project Heartland to arrange for her family to get counseling.

"It's been a safe haven, where we found out that what we were going through was normal for the situation," Joni Alderton said.

Soon afterward, at the Aldertons' urging, Project Heartland set up a support group for parents who had children in the YMCA Day Care Center.

But Joni Alderton still grapples with feelings of loss.

"A while back, when we took Katie over to the (bombing) site and the Y day care center, she said, 'Bye, bye, happy school,'" Alderton said. "It breaks my heart. Katie was the epitome of innocence, and we lost that that day."

Marsha Kight has been counting her losses too lately, and it makes her angry.

When she turned to Project Heartland as a refuge for her grief, she also found a focus for action. Kight has become an outspoken advocate for additional funds to pay for long-term counseling for bombing victims and their families.

Just before the Murrah Building implosion May 23, Judy Kidwell's emotional roller coaster hit bottom.

Although Kidwell had had nightmares and difficulty sleeping right from the beginning, she initially believed she was handling the stress. But her sleeping problems persisted, and she constantly felt exhausted. The grandmother of two also had bouts of uncontrolled crying and horrible flashbacks.

"I'd hear a loud noise or somebody yell, and there'd be an instant adrenaline rush, and then I wouldn't be able to stop crying," she said. "My family would say, 'You're OK.' But I thought I was going insane."

In despair, Kidwell called the American Red Cross. A counselor there put her in touch with Project Heartland Center.

"Sometimes, my mind would go down into this dark hole and brood a while," she said. "If it were not for Project Heartland and a crisis counselor at the Red Cross, I'd probably be a blithering idiot by now.

Judy Kidwell admits having occasional bouts of anger too.

"I feel that everyone of us who lived is a slap in the face to the guys who did it - those folks who wanted us all to die. I'm glad I lived so I can say, 'Take that!'" she said, punctuating her point with a swat on the tabletop.

Stress Counseling Helping Water Board Workers Heal

A traumatic event such as the Oklahoma City bombing is so shocking and life-altering that it often can overwhelm a person's coping mechanism.

Ed Eckenstein, a geologist with the Oklahoma Water Resources Board, was one who understood early on the event's potential for emotional damage among his co-workers.

Eckenstein's sister-in-law had been a survivor of the 1986 Edmond post office massacre, so he soon developed concerns about the emotional toll the bombing might have on co-workers. He knew that unresolved stress also can lead to high worker turnover and destructive work patterns.

The state agency that employed Eckenstein was located across the street from the Murrah Building, which was destroyed in the bombing. All told, some 296 state employees had offices either in the Water Resources Building, across the street from the Murrah Building or in the nearby Journal Record Building.

Both buildings sustained significant damage during the April 19 blast. Two water resources board workers - Bob Chipman and Trudy Rigney - died, and many other state employees were injured, some seriously.

"I felt our agency would need to find someone to help our people deal with the trauma they faced in the workplace," Eckenstein said. "In order to heal, people need a sensitive environment where they know that management and their co-workers care about them."

The head of the state agency endorsed Eckenstein's proposal and promised to find money for the effort.

Eckenstein and a committee of co-workers conducted a national search to find an expert or company that could provide debriefing and other services.

The search led them to Crisis Management International of Atlanta, which conducted group debriefings at the agency for two days. The firm also provided a week of individual counseling for some workers.

All but four of the agency's 70 workers participated.

Afterward, the water resources group arranged with Project Heartland Center to provide additional crisis counseling and to set up a support group for its workers.

Eckenstein believes all these efforts have benefited his agency.

"Talking about a traumatic experience helps people process the pain."

"It also helped that our management listened to us and was not afraid to take employee feedback," he said.

1996 Dart Award Final Judges

Steve Begnoche
News Editor, Ludington Daily News, Ludington, Michigan

Elizabeth Brett
President-elect, International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies (ISTSS)

Ed Chen
Washington D.C. correspondent, Los Angeles Times

Linda Harkness
Director, Michigan Victim Alliance

Susan Watson
Columnist, Detroit Free Press