Just when I had congratulated myself on avoiding dwelling on a certain anniversary...

This is in my inbox this morning:

Ceremony honors '91 victims

T. Anne Cleary, 1935-91. Dwight Nicholson, 1947-91. Christoph Goertz, 1944-91. Robert Smith, 1946-91. Chin Lin-hua, 1964-91.

On Nov. 1, 1991, the UI campus was rocked with a tragedy so inexplicable and horrendous that, 15 years later, many close to these victims still find it difficult to talk about the acts and their devastating consequences.

But friends and colleagues of those killed in a string of shootings in Van Allen Hall and Jessup Hall 15 years ago nonetheless spoke before a crowd of more than 50 Wednesday afternoon on the T. Anne Cleary Walkway.

They honored the lives and achievements of the three slain UI faculty members (Goertz, Nicholson, and Smith), a slain UI researcher (Chin), a slain UI administrator (Cleary), and one wounded student, Miya Rodolfo-Sioson, now paralyzed from the neck down, who were shot by Gang Lu, a disgruntled former graduate student, on that infamous November day.

On that Friday, I was sitting in the Physics Library, working behind the desk, and reading a textbook. I heard sharp metallic sounds, like someone hitting something metal with a hammer. I sat for a moment, and then went into the hall to see what was going on. A professor, Dr. Onel, was standing out in the hall, coffee cup forgotten, and spilling coffee on the ground. He told me there had been a shooting, and to get back in the library and lock the doors.

That was the moment my life changed.

I could go on about all of the little details of that late afternoon and evening. How we waited in the library, how we could see through the old entrance, the police, the room, how we huddled out in the sleet and snow later, waiting to hear who it was. How I had to leave all of my books on the desk, and grabbed only my purse, my coat and keys. How I cried when certain friends finally appeared out of the building. How I had to give a statement, how alone I felt.

But what I really want to do, is what I did yesterday: Think about it for a moment, then put it back in its box. Something terrible happened. But all of life is a series of good and terrible. I prefer to dwell on the good.