Nuked at Age Six -- Yeehah!

I was born during the Cold War and raised in the Nuclear Republic -- er, I mean the United States -- of America. My generation was the first one raised from infancy knowing scientifically the world could end within the hour.

By 1957, even a first grader could think to ask, newly made aware of the horrific possibilities, "But ... why is there war?"

My father's shocking reply, after an incredulous glance at my mother (tell me again where we got this kid) was, "Damned if I know."

Sputnik had just gone into space in 1957. My father's comment, as closely as I remember, was: "Oh, great. Now they can put the bomb on a rocket and get it here in 15 minutes."

I grew up in New Mexico, where the atomic weapon was developed. I've always been spooked by that. Even a six year old understands what goes around, comes around.

I never looked at my deep blue Land of Enchantment sky the same again. It was full of nuclear missiles.

Wherever my views confuse a reader, or need a context, these are facts that help. My two life questions, formed at ages six and nine, are: first, why is there war (and why is there not no war); and second, if people know an action is wrong, why would they do it anyway?

Eventually these fascinations made me a philosopher. Damn.