These are interesting
times. I've lived through interesting times before. I'm old enough to
remember the Cold War, and experienced those times from a child's
point of view. During the Cuban Missile Crisis we each had emergency
rations at school and an evacuation plan to board a freight train to
take us to (of all places) the Castillo de San Marcos in St.
Augustine for refuge. My dad had a bomb shelter built in our yard
with four foot thick steel reinforced walls. Mom said she could never
see the point ... if the world is blown up why would you want to be
alive anymore anyway. We used it only once, and that had nothing to
do with bombs, rather a hurricane that caused a tree to fall right
through the living room. We evacuated to the bomb shelter and spent
the night. Ran through the orange grove and down into the shelter
during the eye of the storm.
Those were tense times.
Even though I was only young, I remember dinner table conversation
about the missiles being aimed straight at Florida, the Cape, or
maybe Jacksonville because of its military presence. We were in
Jacksonville. And the fall out would contaminate everything, infect
the food supply, if the blast didn't kill you.
The Vietnam era was yet
another interesting time I remember. My parents had split by then,
and I was a teenager. Dad had rejoined the military as a high ranking
officer. Navy Captain. Psychiatrist. Stationed in Japan. I went to
live with him and my stepmother there. We lived on base in officer's
housing. Dad was second in command of the base. On one trip overseas,
flying military space available, we stopped in Saigon. It was some
time in 1970. I remember the tension in the airport, the personnel
coming and going, the uniformed officers talking in tight groups, the
smoke filled waiting room, my dad ordering me and my sister to stand
right by his side and don't move, the tension that you could inhale.
Over the next year or so
the U.S. was in the process of pulling the troops out of Vietnam. A
lot of them came through our base, as it was a hospital base.
Anti-war protests were going strong back in the states. A fact I knew
only on the periphery. The Japanese protested against Americans. They
held protests right outside the main gate. They were polite about it,
always sharing their protest schedule. Easy to avoid. My dad was
involved in signing discharge papers for the enlisted that served in
Vietnam, doing their psychological exams before release from duty.
He'd talk about it. I think he had many enlisted dishonorably
discharged due to drug use or addiction during their service in
Vietnam. Dad had a particular and personal hatred of anyone who used
illegal drugs. I felt sorry for the men he dishonorably discharged
for drugs, or maybe court martialed. After all, most were drafted,
thrown into a war they didn't support. And drugs were plentiful.
Maybe not an excuse or reason, but my dad didn't have to go out of
his way to ruin lives. I know that he did.
We came back to the
states to Southern California. The Nixon administration was full bore
crash and burn. The Pentagon Papers. G. Gordon Liddy et al.
Watergate. I feel we are in a time machine. Back again to the early
days of the women's movement. Back again to a politicized populace
and people marching in the street. Back again to turmoil. Interesting
times.