Lace Curtains and The Missile Crisis
The elderly lady sat in her sunny front porch behind white lace curtains rocking back and forth. She watched the children play and each time I passed I would wave and smile. Not only had she seen many changes in the neighbourhood but also in the world. In the early 1960's she was in her 70's, making her birth year before 1900.
The reason I remember he so well is that as a little girl I would climb the back stairs to her tiny cluttered kitchen and sit on a patterned plastic covered chair to enjoy my milk and cookies as she recounted many stories of the old days. There were many fascinating things about her, but two things stuck in my mind from the time I was a little girl. First was the mint she kept in her cheek while she slept. I wondered how she did not choke on it. She told me to try it as it kept her mouth moist. The second thing that piqued my interest was a routine visit in 1962 during the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Being so young, I had no idea what was going on in the world at the time, but I recall her showing me how she was preparing for the coming war. She had lived through the shortages of World War I and World War II and this time she was determined to be ready. One by one she pulled out kitchen drawers to show me the stockpiled coffee, sugar, flour, tea and rice. My eyes were big as saucers as I tried to imagine why anyone would line their drawers with paper and then pour pounds of goods straight in. She cautioned me tell my parents that they also must do the same so that we will have enough to eat when the time comes.
The autumn of 1962 was a serious time in history and many thought the world was on the brink of nuclear war. Back at Cornwall school the classes began holding drills. The bell would go off unexpectedly and we would have to scurry under our wooden desks and put our hands over our heads. We thought of it as fun and giggled throughout. Little did we know that had nuclear missiles landed in Port Arthur, the desk would not have saved us. The other part of the drill was to time how long it took us to run home from school. The actual citywide sirens would wail and off we would go. The school guard, a friendly and portly man was at the ready to help us all across to the other side of Algoma Street. When we arrived home it was our job to mark down how many minutes it took us to make it there and then report it back to the teacher upon our return from lunch. I depended on my older siblings to do the timing. The drill took place at lunch as it would have been uncommon to send children home without any warning.
The Cuban missile crisis came to an end in late October of 1962, 13 days after it started. Families, the school, the neighbourhood, the city of Port Arthur and the World collectively sighed in relief and returned to the job of everyday living.