Some of you may be too young to remember.
Others will remember exactly where you were.
Do you remember where you were when the Challenger shuttle exploded in 1986?
I was alone in my apartment in Japan, practicing picking up popcorn with chopsticks. I remember concentrating so hard on not dropping it, while the television played in the background. It was all in Japanese, so I wasn’t fully following it.
Then I saw it.
An explosion on the screen.
I didn’t understand the words, but I understood something terrible had happened. I dropped everything and ran to my agent’s house.
“Gloria, what happened? What is going on?” I kept asking.
Soon the other models arrived, and we all gathered around the television together — confused, quiet, and heartbroken.
In the video I created, I placed a friend beside me. But the truth is, I was alone at first. That’s how memory works sometimes — we recreate it, soften it, make it survivable.
History marks the world in big ways.
But memoir remembers the small details — popcorn, chopsticks, a language you don’t understand, and the feeling in your chest when everything shifts.
If you remember that day, where were you?