Children of the Cloud
We shrugged off the grim joke of Duck and Cover.
That some adults believed the drill would save
us from the blast of fusioned hydrogen
amused us as we quietly curled along
the corridors, the girls on one side, boys
the other. Urgent bells elicited
collective, silent chuckles, broke the dull
routines of long division, sentences
diagrammed in chalk; or brought reprieves
to those unskilled in dodge-ball, rhythm blocks.
We knew mortality early, knew the term
“Ground Zero” well from grainy black-and-whites
of what had been Hiroshima. For us,
the Cuban stand-off was a farcical
morality play we laughed at up our sleeves.
Annihilation seemed inevitable
as greasers with switchblades rumbling in the dark.
Our summers were bright. We knew the worst, and played.
That some adults believed the drill would save
us from the blast of fusioned hydrogen
amused us as we quietly curled along
the corridors, the girls on one side, boys
the other. Urgent bells elicited
collective, silent chuckles, broke the dull
routines of long division, sentences
diagrammed in chalk; or brought reprieves
to those unskilled in dodge-ball, rhythm blocks.
We knew mortality early, knew the term
“Ground Zero” well from grainy black-and-whites
of what had been Hiroshima. For us,
the Cuban stand-off was a farcical
morality play we laughed at up our sleeves.
Annihilation seemed inevitable
as greasers with switchblades rumbling in the dark.
Our summers were bright. We knew the worst, and played.
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Author's Note
This appeared in Blue Fifth Review.
Other stories by Gary Hardaway
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God, I absolutely remember those days.
I was sure we'd be bombed before I was 20. And rhythm-blocks... great touch. I'm sure lots of folks don't know about them. I use to have H-Bomb dreams; I'd wake up just as everything went white.
This piece evokes all that terror... and reminds me of how much I loved the rhythm-blocks.
Rhythm blocks were great. Also, learning about composers. Thanks very much, Steve.
It was just like that.I think this is one of my favourite poems of yours.
Nice form, Gary. Well-written piece.
"We knew mortality early, knew the term
“Ground Zero” well from grainy black-and-whites
of what had been Hiroshima."
*
For once I'm too young to remember something. But I feel the quiet hope beneath its surface.
What's a rhythm-block'?
Can you imagine being a teacher, an adult, and "conducting" that, looking at those children lying down in the halls, huddled under their desks, and then going back to long division and the like?
Pitiful...
Thank you, Carol. I am happy that you enjoyed it.
Thank you, Sam.
Sally, rhythm blocks, as I knew them, were wooden cylinders, about 10 inches long and an inch and a half in diameter, painted in primary or secondary colors, with eased edges at each end. Each student had two and held one stationary and struck it in rhythm with the other, held at the mid point to make a down stroke followed by an up stroke easy. They made a lovely sound, percussive but resonant.
Thanks for reading, MG.
Man, this took me back. First thing I read this morning and dead on. Maybe it wasn't sex, drugs, and rock and roll that made the boomers who we are, maybe it was this.*
I used to hold my breath whenever I heard a loud noise thinking if it was a nuclear bomb I'd have a few more seconds to live. The adults seemed so stupid by unquestioning about duck and cover. No wonder we became the Question Authority generation.
Oh, and fave*.
Thank you, Gary. I wonder if anyone ever studied the effects of MAD on all of us? Of course, sex drugs and rock and roll are more glamorous...
Thank you, Gloria.