Hot Summer… Cold War Pt. IV
With the pungent whiff of sizzling meat in the sixties summer air these cowboy cold warriors got into a heated discussion about the threat of Thermonuclear War and President Kennedy’s cry of a Missile Gap.
In 1961, the nation was on edge over the terrifying thought of nuclear confrontation between the Americans and the Soviets and everyone had their opinion.
It wasn’t long before my suburban backyard was littered with lawn chair strategists, their lubricated states adding fuel to the fire.
With the crisis in Berlin heating up and the threat of a possible nuclear attack breathing down our neck’s, some of the men loudly argued that we needed to build up our arsenal of missiles, mach schnell !
Short and pudgy, Nikita Khrushchev wasn’t coy about his ample arsenal of missiles, and relished brandishing his bombs at every opportunity.
The blustering Soviet Premier may have boasted that he could turn out long-range missiles “like sausages in an assembly line,” but, Dad joked scooping the blistering dogs off the grill tucking them into doughy enriched buns, he could brandish his beef bayonets against anyone’s!
Since my grandfather had bestowed us with cases of hot dogs Dad winked, he could go wiener to wiener with Chairman Khrushchev anytime!
Breathing deeply of the burning scorched beef, the men were fully confident that John Kennedy was pure protein.
Loaded with vigor and brimming with good health a can-do John Kennedy erupted , with energy like uranium atoms in fission -thanks to the daily cocktail of B-12 shots he received from Dr Feel-Good.
He would flex his muscles and build up our anemic arsenal of Missiles, along with beefing up our armies combat- ready- units to einmarsch right into Berlin.
“There would be no shrinkage on his watch,” said Cousin Jerry a bouncy, beefy man with a ready chuckle.
To those still concerned that our cool president was a little too tepid, the mere mention of JFK’s newly anointed Air Force Chief of Staff would dispel any lingering doubts.
For pure, unadulterated protein power, Jerry stated hungrily ravaging his right of the grill burger “no one offered up more pep per serving than cigar-chompin-bomb-droppin’ abrasive General “Bomb em’ back to the stone age-Curtis Le May.
As Jerry bit deeply into the nearly raw meat, I watched in fascination as the rivulets of bloody juices dribbled down the precipice of his double chins leaving an oil slick in their wake.
The missile rattling grew loud and they were off to the races.
Copyright (©) 20012 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved -Excerpt From Defrosting The Cold War:Fallout From My Nuclear Family
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