I was born in the early 60s. I grew up in a school where we had scheduled “Bomb drills”. I grew up trained to react to the sirens. It was as much a part of learning as the ABCs. Images like these haunted my days and my dreams. I didn’t watch, so much as study movies like The Day After. As I aged, those experiences created a fear which spawned planning. I planned how we would survive after a nuclear explosion. Where we would go, what we would need, how we would get there. As a teenager I learned as many “old-fashioned” crafts as possible. Storing that information for use in a world where machines were destroyed. After I started having children, I dreamed about it. I mapped out the bomb shelters, knowing where each one was-closest to the grocery store, the preschool, my work. About how I would get to the kids if they weren’t with me and, once again, how we would survive. I never doubted that most of my family would survive because I was prepared. I realize now that what I had, and still have, is hope. It might not be logical, but it’s what I have.

Now 2/3s of my children are adults. I can share with them my plans for survival, in fact I can expand these plans now because they are old enough to help (I go directly to store…canned goods only….you go to Sporting Goods Store….fuel, guns, ammo….you go fetch horses and tack…then we all meet up and travel to Great Grama’s cabin in the mountains). They laugh at me. Not at my grandiose plans, but at the idea that there would be a chance to implement my plans. They have no hope. Not the slightest smidgen of a thought that we would survive. No plans, just boom and bye bye.

I find this tremendously sad. In a world as tenuous and frightening as today, why don’t they have hope? What has happened in the world to take that away from our children? They need hope, we all do.