Wednesday, January 28, 2009
I can hardly believe that it was so long ago although like Laura I can vividly see myself and what happened just after 11:40 a.m. e.s.t., 23 years ago today. I was waiting for the water to boil in the sunny kitchen of my law firm, preparing tea for my boss and myself, sitting at the white round table under the windows and leafing through a magazine. Suddenly my usually sanguine and cheerily upbeat boss (one of the partners) burst into the kitchen saying "no, no" and looking ashen - you don't often see people look as they describe them in novels so I was struck by his color. He more or less lunged for the radio on top of the refrigerator but all we heard was static. It was a small, family-esque place so we left the radio off most of the time in order not to annoy each other, having congenially concluded that silence was preferable to causing discomfort with musical choices we might not all enjoy (and, no, we weren't always that considerate of each other). He fiddled with the tuner and the antenna (how long is it since radios had tuners and antennas?) looking for a station without static. Finally one came in clearly and everything froze and nothing was the same for a long time. We listened to the commentator detail what had happened and I can still see that awful expression on his face while he stared out the window and looked at the bright blue sky that most of the eastern seaboard was enjoying that day.
It had been such an exciting morning. NASA was reclaiming our interest because of Christa McAuliffe's participation, and then it all became so ghastly. I suppose there's an event every decade or two that stuns and scars us and also somehow unites us. I wish we learned closeness, compassion and humanity by less violent and sad means, don't you?
23 years ago
posted at 2:20 PM |
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I can hardly believe that it was so long ago although like Laura I can vividly see myself and what happened just after 11:40 a.m. e.s.t., 23 years ago today. I was waiting for the water to boil in the sunny kitchen of my law firm, preparing tea for my boss and myself, sitting at the white round table under the windows and leafing through a magazine. Suddenly my usually sanguine and cheerily upbeat boss (one of the partners) burst into the kitchen saying "no, no" and looking ashen - you don't often see people look as they describe them in novels so I was struck by his color. He more or less lunged for the radio on top of the refrigerator but all we heard was static. It was a small, family-esque place so we left the radio off most of the time in order not to annoy each other, having congenially concluded that silence was preferable to causing discomfort with musical choices we might not all enjoy (and, no, we weren't always that considerate of each other). He fiddled with the tuner and the antenna (how long is it since radios had tuners and antennas?) looking for a station without static. Finally one came in clearly and everything froze and nothing was the same for a long time. We listened to the commentator detail what had happened and I can still see that awful expression on his face while he stared out the window and looked at the bright blue sky that most of the eastern seaboard was enjoying that day.It had been such an exciting morning. NASA was reclaiming our interest because of Christa McAuliffe's participation, and then it all became so ghastly. I suppose there's an event every decade or two that stuns and scars us and also somehow unites us. I wish we learned closeness, compassion and humanity by less violent and sad means, don't you?
Labels: anniversaries, events
2 comments
Thanks so much for your note and letting me know about your post.
Best wishes,
Laura
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