Here is a section of a journal that was later incorporated into a play Rachel, Chloƫ, and I performed together in a few forms detailing our trip along Route 66. We left on September 11, 2001. This piece was based on an entry from September 13.
We have encountered many other people who are trying to go about their daily lives despite the aftermath of the bombings. People are quick to voice an opinion and often have very specific stories of where they were when it happened… and everyone seems stunned and somewhat unaware of the full extent of what is to come.
Now... the first time we read through this, Rachel noted that I used the word “bombings” to describe the attacks. Which I did… at that time in my journal, I was writing about them in that way. I think that some of that had to do with the fact that everyone else was using that word… that terminology.
I also think some of it is related to a conversation we had with a woman in Oklahoma City at a place called the Country Dove. We didn’t know that’s what it was called. We were looking for [motions to Rachel to supply the incorrect name we found in the guidebook] because it was supposed to have really good French Silk Pie, which is my all-time favorite.
So we found this little bookstore with a small restaurant attached that was filled with all sorts of Jesus paraphernalia (strange), and the woman there was talking about the bombings. The Oklahoma City bombings. And it was clear that the whole city felt as if they’d been through this before. She was talking about how the whole city felt like they could offer the citizens of New York help, advice, empathy… because they’d already been through it. They understood. I remember she sounded incredibly sad, but she didn’t cry.
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