I was six years old, a first grader at St. Mark's school on Cortez and Rockwell in Sr. Marie Michael's class. The school was built in 1910, and was just as much a fire-trap as OLA. My class had 50 students, no sprinklers, no fire doors, wood floors, stairs and wrought iron and wood desks. The cloak room was an unlit nightmare. I had only been at St. Mark's for three months on 12/1/1958. We heard lots of sirens that day. Even now when I hear sirens I want to know where they're headed--a school? my home?? The scariest part of that tragedy is that it could have happened to any of us. In October of 1962 my parents had a stillborn son who was buried at Queen of Heaven cemetery in Hillside, close to the children from OLA. When visiting the cemetery my parents seemed as sad at the OLA memorial as they were at my brother's tiny grave, and we would say prayers in both places. In the 1980's I was a social worker at a psychiatric hospital. One of the patients had survived the OLA fire but continued to have many emotional scars from the experience. Both her teacher and best friend died that day. Sometimes even psychotherapy and medication wasn't enough to heal those wounds. For the last 14 years I've taught preschool, and have taken each fire drill with utmost seriousness. My very young charges are sometimes terrified by what they think is a "real" fire. While I reassure them, I also make sure they keep moving out the door to our gathering place. I too always scan public places for the exits, and always read the safety information cards on airplanes, just in case. My children have been frequently instructed to do the same. If anyone doubts that "we are all connected", let them read these accounts. I have been humbled by the extent of the effects of this tragedy on everyone who lived through it, and on everyone who has learned about it from their relatives, friends, teachers, this website, and ordinary people like me. May the Lord grant us all peace.
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