Fallout from the Sixties
by Eva Pasco
Author of "Underlying Notes"
As a child growing up in the Sixties, the Cold War was as palpable a dark cloud as the
mushroom blast over Hiroshima. StilI fresh in my mind are clips of Nikita Kruschev banging his
shoe on a lecturn while delivering the line, "We will bury you!" Then there was the Cuban Missile
Crisis in 1962 where President Kennedy proved Russia placed nuclear missiles in Cuba, and imposed a
naval quarantine around Cuba to force their removal. Scary stuff! Since the threat of
nuclear annihilation seemed imminent, one survival antidote was that of the nuclear
fallout shelter stocked with civil defense biscuits, canned goods, and booklets suggesting
exercises while confined.
While these fears lay dormant inside me throughout 1962, I was a sixth grader
at Lincoln Community School. Our school could not accomodate the town's growing population, so fifth
and sixth graders were relegated to the Maccoll Field barn on Breakneck Hill Rd. Every
Friday before school let out we had to empty our desks and stow away our books
and implements inside a pillowcase so the desks could be stored in a corner to clear the
floor for square dancing. Nevertheless, we country hicks were hip to the drill--the one
which prepared us for a nuclear holocaust. "Fallout shelters? We don't need
no stinkin' fallout shelters!" Our desks would protect us!
When Miss G gave the signal, we'd crouch beneath our desks despite the wobbly legs on
some. In that lowly position one could glimpse the topsy turvy world of loose crayons, books
teetering on the edge, points of scissors and no. 2 yellow lead pencils facing
outward, along with the occasional wad of gum strategically stuck underneath for a
rainy day. The crux of the situation is that we all bought into this line of safety,
confident our rickety desks would save us from heavy debris and radioactive particles in the air
until our parents could come get us. I hereby nominate the school desk to be added to
the memorabilia housed in any Cold.
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