I'm surprised that I remember that day every year. Never forget, and wut wut! It's most likely just the strong association of that event and the other eruption of graduating high school in a small Montana town. Maybe it's the lingering trauma of the horrible experience.
No. I found the whole thing fascinating, from beginning to end. It was horrible in it's own way, but even that got filtered through a 17 year old male reality. 'Wow, a mountain blew up. This planet is AmAzing, and dangerous. I hope no one was hurt.'
Other things have consumed my thoughts and deep feelings much more than a volcano that blew 32 years ago. I've documented most of it elsewhere, to where even I don't care to look for it. I don't remember most of those dates. I have a hard time remembering what year the great Yellowstone fires happened in. Yet, I remember May 18th every year. That's the day a mountain blew up, and spread ash as far as Minneapolis.
Maybe I remember it because I live on the edge of the world's largest Super volcano. Could be ...