I remember April 4, 1977. It was a school day and I was in fifth grade. My mother worked at the school, so we were there after most of the children had left. My little brother wanted to go to the store all by himself. My mom sent me to secretly watch him and make sure that he didn't get into trouble. I stood at the school door so that he couldn't see me. Suddenly a telephone pole started falling. I just stood there too scared to move. My first thought was a tornado. Then, I saw the airplane. It was very close to the ground. I could read the numbers on the side of the plane. It flew past the school, over the line of trees and disapeared. Within seconds I heard the explosion and saw the ball of fire and smoke rise over the trees. I was most likely the first person to inform the faculty inside (the school) of the crash, but I'm told that I didn't make a lot of sense and that I kept repeating myself. If the trees had not blocked my view, I would have seen the crash. It was very close.

Our small town was devastated. And so were many families. It took a long time to feel normal again. I vowed that I would never get on an airplane. That fear hung over my life for a long time.

On September 20th 2004, I boarded an airplane for the first time in my life. I was thirty-eight years old. My husband and I and our children (6 and 12) flew to Puerto Rico, because of his(my husband)job. We have lived here for a year and I've flown many times, even without my husband. I know that God will protect me and my family. I also remember the people who died on the ground, and realize that if God calls me home, it doesn't matter where I am. By the way , my girls love to fly.

--Bethany