"When We Were Little" Wednesday

I'm a lucky and fortunate 58-year-old who has both parents still alive and fairly well. I've been with them in Columbus for the last few days. But that's not where the memory begins.

We moved to Columbus in about 1962 when I was in the 6th grade. My brother was in the 5th. The stability of the world was a big question. We had returned to the United States after my dad's military assignment in Germany. He was then stationed at Fort Benning.

John F. Kennedy was president. Cuba and the United States were on bad terms and I'm embarrassed to say the details have left me. At 11-years-old I don't know how much I ever really knew about the situation, but it was bad enough that our parents felt it best for me and my brother to not be in Georgia. We went to stay with Grandparents in St. Louis. That put us further away from Cuba and the Missile Crisis.

In school, even as far north as Missouri, we had air raid drills. We knew where we were to meet our grandparents at the school, in the basement in case of any attack. Our PaPaw and MaMaw had a full basement in their home and it was kept stocked with emergency supplies. We would be safe and protected there. Now that I think back on it, I have to wonder just how safe we would have been.

Those were scarey times. I don't remember how long it was before the situation stabilized but we made it back to Columbus with our parents by Christmas.

My folks still live in that same house. There's still one neighbor that's been there all this time.

I do worry about how things are changing in the world.  I don't know how secure and safe we really are.  I do know, though, that I don't want my children or grandchildren to know the fear that we all felt some forty years ago.  I wish I could make them that promise.