Where were you?
Nick, the Chevron Nigeria Marine Advisor, asked several of us a question that, at first, appeared to be difficult to answer. When did you first fly (as a passenger) and what type of aircraft? The answer for me was easy because, for one, my father was a pilot, and secondly my mother retains the memory of the occasion with a picture of me in the cockpit. I was one year old and we were flying in a Norseman up to Norway House in Canada.
Nick, of course remembered, but surprisingly the other two guys at the lunch table remembered as well although they flew much later in life. They even remembered the type of aircraft they were passengers on including a Comet and a B707.
This memory jogging exercise reminded me of the other thought provoking question. Where were you the day President Kennedy was assassinated? That again was easy for me. I was 8 years old in a Grade 3 classroom in Lac du Bonnet. The spillover class, a result of the post baby-boomer bulge in the demographics that followed us through grade school, was held in the cold and drafty Anglican church next to the old school. Our teacher, Mr. Ketchur, was a young upstart with somewhat cavalier and wholly unorthodox methods of discipline such as nailing Billy Casper’s socks to the wooden floor to prevent him from “kicking” Lori Arseniuk sitting in front of him, throwing bits of chaulk at John Enright’s head to wake him up, and making me sit on the toilet with the closet door locked for long periods of time for bleeding (nose bleeds) in class.
I remember John Enright running in late for class and out of breath. He was often late, but usually excused, because his dad ran the local hotel and pub and often kept John working until the last minute after lunch. This time John burst in to announce that the American President had just been shot. Ketchur found a radio and we crowded around the live broadcast in the drafty church to hear the awful news. I have to admit that I don’t remember if I even knew who President Kennedy was at the time, but I certainly knew after that infamous day Nov 22 1963 in Dallas Texas.
BBC
Since then almost every aspect of the assassination has been disputed - it is not even clear how many shots were fired - but there is one thing most people are certain of; where they were when they heard the President was dead
We’ve had many such moment in our lives:
The day Cassius Clay defeated Sonny Liston. Feb 25, 1964. Again crowded around the radio, this time with my dad in my parents bedroom. There were no chairs so we sat on the cold floor. My dad was thrilled that Cassius Clay had beaten the bear Sonny Liston but was upset when a week later Cassius Clay changed his name to Mohammad Ali.
The day Martin Luther was assassinated. April 4, 1968. In the confusion of the ’60s I loosely associated his death with the Black Panther movement, communists, and religious zealots. I was coming in from recess at our new Centennial School when a fellow student made the announcement to our homeroom teacher Mrs. Hunchuck.
The day man landed on the moon. July 20, 1969. The summer of ’69. I was at home watching the event on our black and white TV. Dad bought us a color TV later that year but I will always remember the moon landing as being a “black and white” event. I was surprised to later see the National Geographic Magazine pictures in color.
The day John Lennon was murdered. Dec 8, 1980. Sorry, but I don’t remember where I was except Holly strongly remembers it happened one day before her birthday.
The day Ronald Reagan bombed Libya. April 15, 1986. I was in Port Harcourt Nigeria and the local university students demonstrated against the bombing of their “African Brothers” by the American tyrants. The students marched down the road to our camp all dressed in black and hanging an effigy of Ronald Reagan by the neck. Later they burnt him. I was “trapped” and hiding in a dusty run down book store where the Nigerian owner took the opportunity to let me know “If I wasn’t buying any books he would have to ask me to leave.” Needless to say I kept buying books, actually Shakespeare’s King Lear and The Tempest, until the crowd disbursed and I could escape back to the fenced-in protection of our compound.
The day the Berlin Wall came down. Nov 1989. I was back in Nigeria after the birth of my son in April, but I don’t remember any particular day. I guess because it came down piece by piece I remember it as an event rather than a moment.
The day Nelson Mandela was freed from Robben Island. Feb 11, 1990. Again, I was in Port Harcourt Nigeria. The university students demonstrated against the “white” American company I worked for not understanding that most American’s had opposed Apartheid. Ironically, we were locked into the camp like prisoners and spent the day in the bar commiserating our lack of freedom.
The day hijacked airplanes crashed into the World Trade Center. I think this day of infamy is only second to the President Kennedy assassination. Sept 11 , 2001. I was in my hotel bedroom in Bali Indonesia. I was on a term contract training Indonesian pilots in the country with the world’s largest Muslim population. Although many of the Indonesians gloated over the attack the local Balinese sympathized with the victims. That was befitting as they too later became the victims. Holly was booked to come and join me in Bali and ended up flying out of Vancouver just days after the FAA flying ban was lifted. At the time of the attack I was watching a NBC business channel, as this hotel did not have CNN or BBC, when one of their reporters, in a building just across from the Twin Towers, reported an unusual explosion. The live feed showed the first building burning and I watched live as the second aircraft slammed into the tower. I phone Holly to see if she was watching and she then turned the TV on. We knew this moment was historic and horrific as the same time.
The day of the Bali Bombings. Oct 12th, 2002. Only a day and a month and a year after the Sept 11th attack on the World Trade Center. That fact I will always remember. Holly, Logan and I were at home in Seminyak Bali watching TV when we heard a huge explosion that shook our house, blew open a window, and rattled our main door. Holly had lived through the 12 curb and car bombings of Lagos Nigeria 1996-1997 bombing campaign as the militants had fought over political control of Nigeria and she knew by the sound of this blast that this was definitely a bomb. But, we had moved to one of the most peaceful areas of the entire world. We must have been mistaken. It must have been a gas depot explosion. The night air filled with sirens and the sky lit up with the glow of a raging fire. We decided to stay home and early the next morning I was called out to evacuate Americans from the island. I flew all day evacuating scared and confused expats to “safe” havens.
The day Barack Obama got elected President of the United States of America. Nov 4, 2008.
And now today. The day Barack Obama is to be inaugurated as President of the United States of America. In fact, only five minutes from now.
Today should go down in history, but hopefully for the right reasons. I can only say that the odds are against him as the march of destiny is filled with memories of the disturbing and painful. Let this particular memory-for-life be a good one.
