Handling fears of nuke threat (article)

The source is unknown.  Possibly Bloomington's Daily Pantagraph.

The Countdown

It is 11:59 on New Year's Eve, 1984.  The countdown begins:  10, 9, 8. . .  3, 2, -- in one second, we begin celebration of the new year.  But this time, there will be more than idle laughter and resolutions.  Many people will celebrate our continued existence for another year.  It isn't a pleasant thought, but not everything is.  And the threat of nuclear war rests heavily in the minds of the people of the world.  It is no longer just the burden of the adults or those who've made an effort to be aware.  This is a topic of everyday life.  Young children have gone beyond inquiries of Santa or the Tooth Fairy.  Today, they must ask, "What is nuclear war?"  The people my age are quite aware of the nuclear threat in the world.  Unfortunately, they feel there is no answer.

On the weekend, I find myself over at a friend's house, and we bring up the issue of war and Nicaragua.  "I'd go to war," says one of them, as he toys with a model machine gun.  "If I were president, I'd nuke 'em," says the other.  Is this the mentality of the people my age?  I ask them why they'd kill so quickly.  "I hate the Russians.  I always have."  This IS the mentality of the people my age...

(unfinished)

- Dec. 31, 1984, A.D.

Thoughts on Hiroshima

I don't know much about the wars of our nation, and I wasn't there to experience them.  I've seen all of the documentaries, the articles and the film clips.  I've seen the interviews with victims and the books they've written.  But I wasn't there.

Hiroshima.  When I think of the name of that city, I get a feeling so dark and solemn.  It's a cold feeling, like I could cry for each of the victims, and an inward hatred towards the coldness of heart that our government had when they dropped the bomb.  Like children who find gadgets in their parents' closet - a gun, perhaps.  The child knows just enough about the gun that you don't point it at yourself, but not enough about life and humanity and danger to put it back.

But what of the country that is staring down the barrel - a barrel far more dangerous than that of a gun?  Once dead, you can't negotiate.

I feel sickened by it all, and I can never know how bad it was.  That is, hopefully.  Nowadays, it isn't crazy to ask yourself questions, like whether there is any love in the world, or whether there is any compassion for others.  Perhaps we ought to have politicians who know how to live first, before determining who is going to die - or who could at least tell us that they know anything at all about this bomb they are dropping.  Because I'm not sure they do or did or will ever completely know.  The worst question is, whether or not they care.  It wasn't like killing any of their personal friends, was it?  Of course not.  If that were the case, they'd think again.  If they were thinking to begin with.

What they crated was a plague that's happening yet today, and there is no way we can ever be forgiven.  But I had no part in it.  I wash my hands of it all.  However, it doesn't escape my conscience.  I still feel so guilty, so enraged and so empty, because I know that the gun is still there.  But now, every country that is pointing the gun is also looking down another barrel.

And the very cold feeling comes back as I wonder if the next Hiroshima, the next Nagasaki is just around the corner.

(Aug. '82)

(presented at a remembrance gathering on the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima)