So Many Dishes

Not that long ago, a doctor I saw said that she refused to believe I was as old as my chart said. While I was flattered, and most days I don’t feel “old,” the truth is that I’ve been around for a while. So I’m going to list three major historical events and what I remember about them. You can draw your own conclusion as to whether that makes me old.

Probably the first “big event” I remember was the launch of Sputnik. I was six at the time, and I remember going outside after dark with my parents, because you supposedly could see it. I don’t know if my parents identified it, but I certainly didn’t. But that seemed like all anyone talked about for weeks. Of course, I remember the space race that came after it: US satellites, the USSR manned orbital flight, Alan Shepherd and John Glenn, and all the rest. But Sputnik started it.

I was in sixth grade at the time of the Cuban missile crisis, and I recall it causing a panic at school. TV news was dominated by coverage, and we all stared at images like the one above. There was a lot of speculation about how far the missiles could travel, potential targets, etc. It was exactly the sort of thing to set off the nerves of a group of adolescent girls, and there were lots of tears, much to the consternation of the principal. Thinking back on it, his reaction reminds me now of Kermit the Frog on The Muppet Show, when he’s waving his arms and yelling at everyone “break it up!”

It seems to me that everyone who lived through it remembers where they were when they heard that President Kennedy had been assassinated. For me, it was at the end of a seventh grade school day. Clearly, the word had filtered through the school faculty, because my unflappable home room teacher was clearly shaken, but I’m not sure if I heard the news from her or from a fellow student. I do know that, when I got home, my mother was crying and the television was on, which never happened in the afternoon. We spent the next few days glued to the tv, although I do remember one other thing we did. My mother had gotten tickets for a Saturday matinee performance by a visiting symphony; although many events were canceled, that was not, and she and I attended. The conductor acknowledged what had happened by changing the program, and the orchestra played Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3, the Eroica, a solemn and appropriate choice.

So those are my memories of major historical events. Whether the fact that I remember them makes me old is for you to determine.