As with many in our generation, we have been inundated with national tragedies that have shaped who we are becoming. Twelve years ago this week, I sat in my sixth grade classroom horrified by the news of the Oklahoma City bombings. The front page image of a fireman holding a tiny infant with a torn dress and scathed skin are forever ingrained in my mind. Eight years ago today, I sat in, yet another, classroom as we were informed of the Columbine shootings. The eerie similarities between the demographics of their town and students and ours sent fear throughout our school and the threats began almost instantly. Trench coats began to appear around each corner and lock downs became routine in the following weeks as bomb threats poured in. Fast-forward a few years and I'm sitting in another classroom, this time it's my first semester of college. I gather my things and rush out to the parking lot so that I could make it to my internship on time and panicked confusion is on each radio station as the students around me were frantically dialing numbers on their cell phones. I couldn't understand what the DJs were saying on my car radio. What's with these planes and New York? Another one? The pentagon? I'm confused. I rushed up to the top floor of our building in downtown Wichita where our firm was located. My heart was racing, everything seemed to be so disoriented ... the conference room was packed as everyone watched the big screen. I stepped inside and joined my team and witnessed the collapse of the first tower. Hysteria. Tears. Disbelief. The camera shaking and reporters screaming. People running in each direction. Smoke. Confusion. Fear. Then the second. Is this real? 1500 miles away from the scene and we're being evacuated and sent home. War. Fast-forward two years. I'm visiting a friend at work after getting out of class. My phone rang. I collapse on the parking lot concrete as I am told that a good friend from high school has been killed in Iraq. Fast-forward again. The serial killer BTK re-emerges in my home town creating a new wave of terror amongst young women. In my own neighborhood, he left messages of past murders for the media and city officials to find and I spent countless hours laying in bed, wide awake, contemplating how I would escape if he entered my apartment. Even after his capture, I keep my closet doors open and sleep with my phone by my pillow. Fast forward. Hurricane Katrina shocks our nation and leaves us devistated ... we're still recovering. We're becoming numb to these events and are now realizing that there are so many things that are out of control. Fast forward two years. I'm in India and and begin to understand that these pivotal moments of my memory are a harsh reality to those in other countries. I now sit in my office (at a university) and remember that just last week one of our student workers was on the phone speaking to his parents back home in Baghdad trying to find out if everyone was ok after a bomb obliterated a bridge near their home. This week, my email has been flooded with safety procedures from our university's president in case a similar events would occur here, such as the one at Virginia Tech on Monday. And it doesn't end ... nor will it. Driving to work yesterday, my roommate was diverted from the downtown area (just blocks from our house) because a man had set himself on fire in the courthouse and had left a bag next to him ... feared to be a bomb.

The question is ... will we push on? Will we defy the adversity and try just as hard to create memories for future generations that don't involve hate and destruction and fear? To TC and his friend ... thanks for being a voice of hope to all of us here in the LBC. We're proud of you and so very thankful that your ok.

(I was inspired by this excerpt my roommate Lindsey wrote about her brother, TC.)

"here's a picture from yahoo!news, taken at virginia tech's convocation yesterday. the guy in the middle, the super hunky one with the furrowed brow, is my baby brother TC Montague.

TC is a freshman engineering major, and lives about 100 yards from the now infamous norris hall. this is my chance to tell my friends how much i love him.

like most VT students, he spent the scariest 24 hours of his life giving articulate interviews to various news organizations. his sorrow over losing 4 friends was broadcast on tuesday over every major network in the world. if you watched the convocation on TV, you could see him hand over heart singing the star spangled banner.

when i was his age, we weren't at war, the stock market rose every single day, and i'd never really feared for my safety. he's 19 and grew up in the suburbs, but he's been on the front lines of too many frightening events. the beltway sniper, the DC area anthrax terrorism. september 11th hit his back yard. on his first day of college, on the way to his first class, a police sniper on a roof told him to "get down!" he later learned an escaped convict had gunned down two people and was on the loose within his campus. and on monday, he stepped out of his dorm into a war zone. after being ordered back into the building, he and his friends watched from their windows as bodies were being removed from classrooms and loaded into refrigerator trucks.

though his words are filled with resilience, resolve, and hokie pride, i know he and his friends are forever changed. my heart breaks when i hear it in his voice. their confusion ranges from "why?" to "what now?" to "what do we say at a job interview with virginia tech on our resumes?" no one knows what to do; he said professors were emailing students saying 'write back to let me know you're okay, and consider this your last assignment for the semester.'

unlike the rest of america, he didn't need to look at the list of victims; he knew who was missing by word of mouth and by looking around. TC said he spent five hours straight on the phone that day, never hanging up, just flashing to the next call. he's got stories, like the fortunate friend who showed up for class, reached for the door, and thought 'weird, why's it chained?' he told the washington post how strange it was to be living what everyone else is watching. i can't even imagine.

anyway, i'm 3,000 miles away so this is my hug to my very courageous, very ALIVE baby brother." Lindsey M.