One Small Voice: Maybe we’re all going there in a handbasket

In the height of the Cold War in the 1960s and 1970s, northern New Jersey, where I grew up, was peppered with 14 Nike missile sites, one of which was located in my hometown of Wayne, a mere three miles from my house.

The purpose of these sites was to protect New York and Philadelphia, should there be a nuclear attack on the US.

I have no recollection of this fact.  I must have been blissfully unaware of its existence in spite of knowing that, if a nuclear war ensued, we’d surely all die instantly in a Dr. Strangelove flash of light.

I remember as a child taking part in numerous fire drills in school, but I don’t have much memory of the infamous “duck and cover” drills.  Either we didn’t have many of them, or they were conducted with a sense of “la-di-da” apathy.  Perhaps the powers that be in the schools knew such a drill was ridiculous in light of our proximity to New York City.

It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I seriously considered and feared nuclear Armageddon.

The realization began with the Cuban Missile Crisis and followed me through high school and college until, as a young married couple, my husband and I began to think seriously about how one might actually prepare to survive global nuclear war.

In all these years since then we have gone through various scenarios about what living would be like the day after.  We watched post-nuclear holocaust films about the nuclear winter, the Mad Max quest for gasoline, the struggle to scavenge for left over canned food and medicines among the ruins.  I learned to put up foodstuffs and grow our own produce.  I taught myself all kinds of basic auto and home maintenance skills that might be necessary.  And we ultimately decided that all of that preparation was futile, that we should pray for the Dr. Strangelove immolation, should total mutual destruction become our destiny.

I hadn’t given serious consideration to nuclear attack in the last few decades.  I believed that the worldwide consensus was that use of nuclear weapons was simply not an option.

The Obama administration had negotiated an agreement with Iran to limit production of weapons grade fuel.  North Korean development of nuclear warheads and the systems to deliver them was just not a topic for everyday conversation.  And the thought that any nation in the Mideast would explode a nuclear device was just not plausible because of the lasting effects of radioactive fallout on the region.

I no longer have that peace of mind.

I feel as if too many of the world’s leaders have lost their ability to see beyond their tribal territorialism.

The UK is careening toward Brexit without an exit strategy.  The Trump administration is operating as if we, as a nation, can actually survive independent of the rest of the world.  North Korea continues its testing of long-range delivery systems for nuclear warheads, Iran is producing weapons grade nuclear fuel rather than fuel for reactors to generate power, and the Russians are resuming efforts to take over former members of the USSR.  This may only be my own perception, but it feels as if petty tyrants and lesser dictators are emboldened to re-exert themselves against their own people and the cultures they would like to eradicate altogether.  And a former giant in world domination has reinitiated its patient, long term strategy to “bury“ us under communist rule.

Now oil fields in Saudi Arabia have been attacked and set ablaze, and there are hints that the US may engage in military involvement or retaliation.

Mike Pompeo says one thing and the president says another, and I no longer believe anything that comes out of the White House.  Not one single thing.

I, for one, had not lost all trust in my government.  I certainly have held a healthy skepticism of government intent in general.  But since Trump took office and began his casual dalliance with truth and intelligent thinking, I have absolutely no sense that our central government in Washington has my best interests at heart.

And in light of the conflagration in Saudi Arabia, and Trump’s well-known love of the Prince, I do feel an anxiety as I get out of bed today.

On what impulse will Trump act in the coming days?  His cabinet is in shambles.  His foreign policy is non-existent.  Trump consults no one of any expertise in international affairs, and if he did he wouldn’t listen to them anyway.  He lacks impulse control, and the Republican congress is scared to confront him on any issue, no matter how large or small.  Our allies distrust us.  Our enemies delight in our having a leader who seems to suck up to dictators.  All is chaos.

I was a blissfully ignorant kid.

I am not an ignorant adult.

I believe that Donald Trump is the most dangerous president ever elected to office.  The pile of excrement that is clear evidence of his corruption and deviousness grows daily.   The suspicious evidence is overwhelming, yet a Republican congress continues to stuff all this foul-smelling poo into a too small sack.

One day this sack is going to explode, covering us all in a filth that will take eons to clean off.

That is, unless Trump involves us in yet another needless military conflict whose consequences make climate change look like a mere inconvenience.

Generally speaking, I have a positive outlook on life.  My first instinct in any situation is to find the good.  My glass is always more than half full.  In fact, my cup runneth over.

Today I feel like Charlie Brown who hung his head and so profoundly said, “we’re doomed.”

I pray that my attitude today is an aberration.