At 8:32 Sunday morning, May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens erupted.

I was living in Missoula, Montana on that day.  I was 13 years old.  I can remember when it happened and how it affected us like it was yesterday.

While we were on the other side of Washington (barely over the state line), we were still covered in a few inches of volcanic ash.  We were warned not to go outdoors because the ash was so fine and it could damage our lungs.

We were kids, though, and while our parents were at work, we went outside to play.  I can remember playing basketball at a friend’s house in the ash.  It would billow up around us with every dribble.

We missed school because the ash caused problems with cars, with transportation, and with general business.  We had to go to school on Saturdays that year to make up for the lost days.

Everyone collected the ash.  It was a collector’s item.  I still have a small container of it, labeled with the date.

It was a huge event in my life.  Something I will never forget.  I can still remember writing the date in my 13-year-old penmanship in my homemade journal.

May 18, 1980.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day.