My family moved from Luxemburg, Wisconsin, population less than 500, to Milwaukee during the summer of 1961. From a grade school with eight grades spread over six classrooms, my brother and I were enrolled in a Catholic elementary school with 150 kids in every grade. We had never seen so many kids.
The first year was rough on my mother who no longer had a part-time job, a bowling league, or knew the names of everyone in the parish. She didn’t even know the names of women on our block. By the summer of 1962 life could be testy in our household. My great-grandmother moved back to Luxemburg and took me with her at the start of summer.
Our second school year began with more confidence and my mother found a seasonal job. She was happier. Until October 16 when the beginning of the Cuban Missile Crisis moved the world toward danger. People were deeply afraid that Cold War was morphing into actual war with Russia, including missiles falling on the United States. Adults knew about the horror of war. Kids were directed in useless duck and cover drills, crawling under our desks with our hands over our heads.
My mother wanted to be in our Luxemburg home with its dug-out basement, food cellar and indoor pump. Our Milwaukee ten-year-old ranch offered no place to hide. It was too late to build a bomb shelter. She emptied the clothes closet in a spare room, brought in blankets and pillows, water jugs, crackers, peanut butter and other food plus towels, tissue and a bucket. She listened to the radio constantly. We went to bed fully dressed. October 28, she woke us with orders to get into the closet. Blankets had been placed over window curtains, a rug rolled at the bottom of the door. We listened to news coverage throughout the night. The crisis was averted. Nerves remained raw for years.
We’re back to practicing some odd form of duck and cover. And it is just as useless. The stakes are high for every citizen and much of the world.
One response to “Another Crisis”
I was a junior in high school then. We were old enough to face the crisis with our friends, leaving our parents to do what they could to consider what might happen. That felt very real. The chaos in DC feels like MAGA theater, designed to distract. But in neither case do we have any control over what is happening, which requires us to ask: What will I do if the dreaded [events] actually occur? What kind of person do I want to be if the crisis becomes real?
Karen Seashore (Louis) she/her/hers 612 385 4947 (cell) //karenlouis.academia.edu http://www.cehd.umn.edu/olpd/people/klouis/ @karenseashore https://karensdescant.com
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