“Duck!”

I looked around, trying to locate the uniquely shaped creature I had seen in my picture books. Dad repeated, “Duck! Get down,” and threw me into the back seat of the car. I remember people running on the edge of the park near where the car was parked. I’m not sure if I remember the explosions. I was three; “Duck!” my first memory.

The details came over twenty years later, finding out what Dad remembered. By then I knew what had happened, generally speaking. Dad’s not normally the best at remembering details, but he remembered a great deal about April 10, 1988. Almost like how his parents remember November 22, 1963, and my generation remembers September 11, 2001.

More »