A closer look at the Oklahoma City Memorial Museum reveals moving stories of tragedy, courage and triumph.
By Karen Eakins

A recording of the Oklahoma Water Resources Board meeting that began across the street from the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building at 9 a.m. on April 19, 1995 began to play. Two minutes into the recording, the sound of a bomb blast exploded across the routine meeting, which then broke into pandemonium. The nation’s worst instance of terrorism to date had begun.

Above: The Oklahoma City National Memorial Museum contains stirring exhibits that use artifacts and video to tell stories of tragedy and courage. Below: Gates of Time and the Field of Empty Chairs are outdoor tributes to those killed in the Murrah’s bombing. These monuments are especially beautiful at dusk. Oklahoma City CVB photos

The tape stopped, double wooden doors to our right swung open and we were lured into a cacophony of chaos–what can only be a weak approximation of the moment when hell broke loose in Oklahoma City that peaceful spring morning.

We walked into see artifacts almost too painful to view–tiny children’s shoes, coffee mugs from people’s desks, a piece of ripped and ragged column. But the videos are the hardest to see and the screens are everywhere. Interviews with survivors and victim’s loved ones are interspersed with news footage of that horrible day; we stood with other visitors in stunned silence, watching, crying, witnessing the pain.

A timeline that weaves its way through the third floor begins at 6:30 a.m. and counts off events across the hours: 2:30, rain begins; 4 p.m., one survivor transported from the site; 10:40, the last known survivor transported to the hospital. A nearby video shows a meteorologist in tears issuing a severe thunderstorm warning at 8:30 p.m. Also chronicled is the death count, which steadily climbs from 36 on April 20 to a final count of 168 on May 29.

As visitors wind their way through the museum, arranged in 10 “chapters,” the noise level noticeably drops and calamity eases, and the artifacts give way to stories of tribute, selflessness and hope. The iconic, Pulitzer Prize-winning photo of firefighter Chris Fields cradling 1-year-old Baylee Almon is on display, along with the story that Fields and Baylee’s mother sued to gain control of the image. They lost.

The displays continue on the second floor. Here is the Gallery of Honor, where each victim’s image and a keepsake are displayed, and the children’s area, where kids are taught of the incident in a gentler environment. A penny path includes 27,000 pennies donated by schoolchildren nationwide–each student contributed 19 pennies, one for every child killed.

Finally, there are extensive displays on the search, evidence gathering and prosecution of the terrorists responsible.

While the museum recounts the story, the memorial expresses hope and survival with symbolism in every design element. The Gates of Time, two massive bronze walls, bookend a 318-foot black-granite reflecting pool; 9:01 is carved from one wall, 9:03 from the other. The time of the blast–9:02–is represented between. Loblolly pines are planted in the Murrah’s footprint, and when mature, they will replicate the height of the building. Nestled among the pines is the Field of Empty Chairs, nine rows of bronze-and-glass chairs–one for every victim (smaller chairs for children)–each chair etched with a name. The walking path is made from granite slabs recovered from the Murrah.

Standing nearby is the Survivor Tree. A 90-year-old American elm, once coveted as the only shady place to park on the lot, it was shown in newscasts with cars burning under it. But the tree survived that day and through ice- and thunderstorms since, it embodies survival.

It is peaceful here, even during the middle of a busy workday. But to appreciate the memorial and pay homage to those who died and those who survived, it is imperative to visit again at dusk. As the bases of the chairs light up and the gates shine forth, a special reverence is felt and a hush descends.

Karen Eakins is features/copy editor of Home & Away magazine.