Is it September 11th already?

From the TV you would think that it was the 10th anniversary, but I counted on my fingers and it's the 9th.

I have already blogged about my 9-11 experience, so I don't think that I'll do that again.

In case you were wondering where I was last week, we went to Oklahoma City. Oklahoma City is not that far away, and over the years we have been there many times. But I was watching the series Saving Grace, and I realized that I'd never been to the memorial, where the Murrah Federal Building had been. My husband had been outside it, but never to the museum inside, and I had never been there at all.

My husband was scheduled to work in Oklahoma City for a couple of weeks, and then another week, and then another. But during this time I had to be home because of the termites or because of the kitchen wall being fixed, or maybe just that I didn't want to leave the plants that long without water. I said that if he went back again I wanted to go, and I wanted to go to the museum.

I got to do a few other things. We went to a couple of restaurants that we like, and it was nice to have access to a pool for a while, and we had other things that we would have liked to do if we had stayed a day later (which we didn't do when we found out about this trip), but the main thing I had planned was going to the memorial.

There's a room with pictures of all the victims. And there's a space for the family to put an item that might tell you something about the person in the picture. A golf ball, a baseball, another picture, a poem, a figurine, a Christmas ornament, a service pin, etc.... Two of the victims were Trekkies, cause they had little Starfleet ships next to their pictures. A few pictures had really odd things, like one girl had a credit card, and another girl had hairspray. And a few pictures didn't have anything with them, but most of those were adults, and I thought maybe they just didn't have family, or that they were not close with their family anymore, and so there was either no one to pick what should go with the picture, or no one knew what should go there.

But one lone picture was of a baby. Surely the baby had a family. Surely someone cared about the baby. How else did the baby get to the daycare (or elsewhere in the building) if he didn't have someone? But no one left a teddy bear, or a figurine, or a poem, just the picture.

There's a calender with the birthdays of all the victims. There were 168 victims, so that takes up about half of the dates.

There were many newspaper articles, some about people suspected of being responsible. I knew when it happened that it wasn't them, that it was one of us. I didn't get the whole Waco connection, I just thought it was someone who didn't like paying taxes. I was really surprised when 9-11 turned out to be foreigners, but as my husband pointed out, our nut jobs mainly like to kill other people, but their nut jobs will also commit to killing themselves.

The outside is pretty, sort of like the reflecting pool in Washington DC. And there are things that look like chairs, one for each victim, each with a name. And then there's a big tree that survived the bomb.

You could spend all day in there reading stuff and watching videos, but my husband had to work, and we only paid for two hours of parking.

Enough of that. I'm going back to knitting and watching cable TV.