Today is my dad’s 60th birthday. For as long as I can remember, he has loved to travel. He’s not the kind of passive traveler who has one destination in mind and spends all his time in one spot. My dad actually spends months preparing for his trip by making various hotel and park reservations and scheduling every minute from the time he pulls out of his driveway to the time he pulls back in.
His favorite places to visit are all out west. The Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Yellowstone, Craters of the Moon, Crater Lake, Zion. Almost every year he goes back and as soon as he gets home he starts planning for his next trip out there. My mother has stopped traveling with him because, as she puts it, “I’ve seen every rock between here and California and don’t need to see them again.” Mom, on the other hand, could visit every shopping outlet in the country and never tire of bargain hunting. They’re a match made in heaven, those two.
My dad takes a camcorder with him on every trip and always comes back home with extensive footage of said rocks. He used to hold us hostage in the living room while my mom and I rolled our eyes and yawned. We had seen it all before, not just on other tapes but in person and we preferred to be left to our own memories than sit on the couch while my dad narrated over his own taped narration of the trip.
For his birthday I’ve been converting some of his old VHS trip footage to DVD. It’s a process that takes a lot of time and eats up a lot of my hard drive, but it’s been a labor of love. So far I’ve converted his trips from 1994 and 1995, and since his birthday dinner is tonight that’s all I’ll be able to give him right now. It’s just as well since my mom wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to smuggle the tapes out to me before he found out. I’ve had 1995 on my desk for a few weeks now and he’s been none the wiser.
I was finishing up the last DVD of 1995 last night and found myself actually taking an interest in the footage. That year he visited many places he’d taken me as a kid, but the last leg of his trip involved visiting places I’d never been to before. One was Dealy Plaza in Dallas where JFK was assassinated and on his way home he visited Oklahoma City. There he shot footage of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building just five days before its scheduled demolition.
Unlike September 11, 2001, I can’t remember where I was the day that building was bombed. I remember the aftermath and the chaos as rescue teams pulled out survivors and the horrible stories that emerged of children being killed in the building’s daycare center. I particularly remember this picture and how it became a symbol of the carnage of that day. Yesterday was the first time in a long time I viewed that picture. It looks a whole lot different when you’re looking at it as a parent.
It’s very hard not to think of your own child when you look at that picture. That girl, Baylee Almon, had just celebrated her first birthday the day before. They had a big party for her and her mother was probably still cleaning things up that morning before she drove Baylee to the daycare center.
I sat at my desk and looked at that picture. I couldn’t take my eyes off her little white socks. Socks her mother put on her that morning. Socks her mother probably thought nothing of as she slipped shoes on over them. Nathan noticed as my eyes started to mist over and asked if I was okay. I closed the window and nodded but couldn’t help but think of one thing. What the hell have we done?
Before I had Autumn I was scared to become a parent. I was never a risk-taker. I preferred the safe life and having a child seemed anything but safe. I didn’t want to lose sleep, gain more weight and be tired all the time. I was afraid that having a child would keep me from achieving certain goals and was afraid I’d be the worst parent in the world. It turns out I was scared of the wrong things becuase never once did I think how becoming a parent would make me vulnerable to the worst pain imaginable.
I sometimes wonder how I would handle losing Autumn. I talk about her as though I’ll have her forever, but sometimes the evil little thoughts creep in and I imagine a life without her, not the life I had before but the life I’d have if I ever lost her. I try not to think of it much because just thinking of it is too painful. I don’t know how parents get through that loss without losing the will to live themselves.
Near the end of my dad’s tape was CNN’s coverage of the Murrah building demolition. Only 34 days after the tragedy the building was razed. Correspondents interviewed people at the scene, in particular mothers who had lost their children in the blast. They seemed composed and calm, their grief contained where the cameras couldn’t see it. But I know it was there.
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Autumn At Oak Hollow 
