Historic times

As we live through these historic times, I think of the many seminal moments in US History that, some of us, depending on our age might remember. We always hear people say that they remember where they were when they first heard about Pearl Harbor, or when JFK was killed, or on September 11, 2001. The inescapable humor will be that when asked where we were during COVID-19, many of us will predictably answer, “stuck at home.”

I didn’t share the experiences of my parent’s generation, who lived through the Depression, the Dust Bowl, and the Second World War. I have heard the stories of the war, known the pains of those who were scarred by the depression, and pulled the shingles off an old house that was standing during the dust bowl. Those are my secondary experiences, but I wasn’t there. I am fortunate to say that I have not experienced those hardships.

In some limited ways, I can relate to a few other experiences. I was born into the Cuban missile crisis, but as a baby in arms living in West Germany, I was blissfully unaware of the situation. At the time, there were concerns that if the standoff in the Atlantic escalated, there would be troubles along the Berlin wall as well. Our bug-out plan was to drive to a port in France and head back to the states from there, but fortunately, that call never came.

I was also too young to remember when JFK was killed in 1963, but by the time that the tumult of 1968 rolled around, I was awake and aware of the assassinations and the riots. I didn’t learn until later in life that 1968 was an unusual year. I just learned, between the evening news and The Weekly Reader, that the world was a chaotic place.

But then there was the moon landing, the fall of Saigon, two gas crises and the Challenger disaster. I recall following the first Gulf War on CNN (a credible, respected network at the time) and having a hallway lined with maps of the middle east, following the Baghdad road, and inserting red push-pins where the scuds landed.

For the most part, those are all shared among us, but I have one distinct memory that is probably not as common for folks in this part of the country. In March of 1981, I was working at the Bender Building on Connecticut Avenue, directly across from the Mayflower Hotel in DC. On the afternoon of the 30th, I had a hair cut appointment scheduled at a place in Dupont Circle. As I began my walk up Connecticut Avenue toward the circle, the Presidential motorcade went by. Seeing the motorcade in that part of town is not necessarily a rarity, but it’s noteworthy, and always a bit exciting. It moves fairly fast for city traffic, is extremely loud, and they don’t stop at red lights. It’s not something that one fails to notice. What was interesting about that particular day, was that just a few minutes after it passed me going south, it came back in the other direction again. It seemed odd, but I was just pleased to see the spectacle twice on the same day.

When I arrived for my hair cut, a television was turned on and there was talk about a shooting at the Hilton Hotel in the Kalorama neighborhood. What we now know is that Ronald Reagan had indeed been shot with a small-caliber round, but in the chaos of the moment, the Secret Service didn’t initially notice his injury. They were headed for the White House when they noticed blood on the president, then did a U-turn and headed for Georgetown University Hospital in Foggy Bottom. What I saw that day was the motorcade passing in each direction. That’s historic. I was there. It’s tragic, but kind of exciting too.

You all know the rest of the story. John Hinkley shot Reagan because he wnted to impress an actress, and Reagan may or may not have suffered cognitive impairment due to trauma and blood loss from the attack. Historians are still arguing that point. A Secret Service agent and a DC Metro Police Officer were wounded in the shooting as well. Whitehouse Press Secretary James Brady was tragically, gravely injured, and as much as we appreciate his sacrifice, his foundation went on to advocate for the passage of laws that were equally senseless and tragic.

Having passively witnessed that little flash of history won’t make me smarter, put money in my checking account, or get my kids into a better school, but like the times we are living through now, it makes me feel connected to human history. Personally, I am looking forward to less interesting times. I look forward to the day when we can reflect on social distancing in the same way we look back at phone booth stuffing, pet rocks, and Hoola hoops.

What concerns me is that in the interim, there will almost certainly be a few Brady bills passed along the way. Times of crisis often lead to errors in judgment, and we will have to look back on those as well.

Last, I don’t know if I have ever gotten around to saying this. I have thought about it, but I can’t say it enough. I sincerely hope that you, and your family, and your friends are well. Be careful out there.