Every Saturday at noon, Memphis tests its early warning system. These days Memphians call the Saturday siren a tornado warning. During my youth, it had a different meaning. I grew up during the Cold War when every aspect of our lives was colored by the specter of nuclear annihilation. The siren would be the last thing I heard before I was vaporized by a Soviet missile.
That fear was reinforced everywhere I went as a child. At school teachers shamelessly taught us to “Duck & Cover” to survive a nuclear attack. At home the nightly news warned us that missiles in Cuba could reach us in a few minutes. At my neighborhood movie theatre giant ants, lizards, and octopi created by nuclear radiation were the featured films. At the Mid-South Fair, the most popular exhibit was a do-it-yourself fallout shelter for the home. In 1964 three major films dealt with a nuclear apocalypse, Dr Strangelove, Fail Safe, and Seven days in May.
However, another event in 1964 managed to distract me and my contemporaries, the Beatles’ tour of the US. By high school I was anti-war and a believer in peace, love, and rock & roll. I once told my boss that I thought there were causes worth dying for, but none worth killing for. He said, “Wait until you’re a father.” Well, I am a father and a grandfather now and I find myself trying to justify the killing of innocents while fighting “The War on Terror”. We are now faced with the very real possibility that mad men who run Iran may soon have a nuclear weapon. It comes down to this, will you kill their women and children to protect our women and children? Yeah, now you know how Harry Truman felt.
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