I grew up at a wonderful time in mankind's development. I transitioned from using a hole in the ground outside my house to using a very comfortable porcelain seat with a plumbing system that takes my deposits quickly out of sight. I went from drawing water from a well to turning on a spigot and getting fresh water to paying $1.75 for a bottle of water. I went from sleeping with the windows open on a summer night to reposing under quilts on a July night cooled by an electric heat pump. I went from an education system that taught liberal and scientific arts and real-world skills to one that socialized and equalized without increasing one's knowledge at all after 6th grade. And I lived throughout the entire Cold War.
It is this Cold War of which I am thinking tonight.
I remember on a few occasions practicing in school what we would do if "the Russians attacked." We would crawl under our desks, cover our heads and pee in our pants. Our teachers must have chuckled at such ridiculous rehearsals. After all, what protection could ¾ of an inch of laminated wood offer against a 20 megaton bomb? But we practiced anyway.
I even remember when the Reds stationed short-range surface-to-surface missiles 90 miles off the coast of Florida and President Kennedy's reaction to them. Many people I knew built quite elaborate bomb shelters. My family didn't. We couldn't afford to, and anyway Daddy feared the Republicans more than the Russians.
Tonight I watched a 1964 movie that has been on my DVR for several weeks. I'm sure you all remember it: Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb – a somewhat whimsical subtitle that has nothing to do with the movie as best I can tell. The only people who seemed to learn to love the bomb were General Jack Ripper and Major "King" Kong (Sterling Hayden and Slim Pickens). It is probably one of my top 10 favorite movies of all time (imdb.com ranks it 28th).
If you have not seen it recently, or at all, I strongly recommend you set aside an hour and a half and watch it. George C. Scott is at his absolute best and, of course, Peter Sellers even exceeds his Inspector Jacques Clouseau, one of the funniest and Frenchiest cops of all times!
Go watch it. You'll thank me for it. And as the closing song says, "We'll meet again / Don’t know where / Don't know when."
The Boys and Me
