Killer Bees and Nuclear War

Killer Bees and Nuclear War

What Childhood Dreams Are Made Of

When I was a kid, all I wanted out of life was to grow up. 

Old enough to drive.  Old enough to stay out late.  Old enough to not have to listen to my parents.  Old enough to have all of that fun that is clearly waiting for you on the other side of teenage-hood.  Boy.  Was I an idiot, or what?!

In my mind's eye, adulthood was a switch.  "One day you were a child, and *poof* - one day you were an adult".  There was no transitional period baked in to my thoughts.  "When I Grow Up" wasn't looked at as a sliding scale of ages or changes.  It was a definitive moment in time. Rock solid and palpable. Yes.  I was an idiot.

God.  I wish I was that idiot again sometimes.  Not that I'm not currently an idiot, but now I'm just an adult idiot.  Which is far, far worse.

I was chatting with a co-worker this week discussing some of the random things in life that make you squeamish and just icky as adults.  My thing is eyeballs.  It really should read EYEBALLS!!! Eyeballs make me wiggle in my seat and cause my stomach to turn.  If there's a close-up of eyes in a magazine or on TV, I turn the page or the channel.  The mere idea of contact lenses makes me want to toss my cookies.  The thought of corrective eye surgery is enough to make me jump from my 3rd floor apartment.  To put it plainly, if SpongeBob Square Pants bugs out his eyes, I must step away from Nickelodeon.  It's that bad.  Chicken on the bone is my second ick-inducing thing.

This conversation led to what made us scared as kids. 

Growing up in the 1980's I had two fears that stood out like street lights on a dark and desolate highway.  Two fears that kept me up at nights and sent me seeking reassurance from my questioning parents:  Killer Bees migrating from South America, and Nuclear War.  In no particular order, but if forced to choose - I'd say the Killer Bees outranked Nuclear War.

Killer Bees

In the early 1980's, at least in New Jersey, it seemed like' Africanized-Killer-Bees-migrating-from-South America" stories were everywhere.  It ran on the news.   There were '60 Minutes' specials on it.  It appeared an invasion was just a matter of time.

"Investigative Reports" showed how these bees would attack.  Men dressed in beekeeper gear would hang a swatch of red cloth from a tree limb, and then gingerly remove the KILLER BEES from their semi-frozen hive.  Upon waking and gathering their bee-wits about them, the bees would quickly swarm the red cloth.  The only thing visible would be hundreds of bees hanging on top of one another in a state of frenzy and mayhem.  In steps the beekeeper, dousing the bees with a quick-acting cooling agent.  The final shot would be of the tree limb. With nothing but a corner of the red cloth left.  The bees hated red THAT much.

The "Investigative Reporter" would then turn his perfectly tanned face to the camera and tell us (me) that these bees are beyond aggressive. They are LOOKING for a fight.  You have been warned, viewer.  They are migrating at an alarming rate from the depths of South America right up to Northern New Jersey.  Do not step outside.  Most importantly, do NOT wear red.

 

The incredible threat of Killer Bees was certainly heightened in my kiddie brain by watching a late 1970's era made-for-TV movie that re-aired during this trying time, entitled "The Savage Bees".  These bees weren't bees.  These bees were attacking machines.  They wanted you DEAD.  They needed to STING you.  Their sole purpose in life was to bring an end to yours.

My parents didn't (and still don't) have any sort of air conditioning in their home.  During summer nights I would sleep in my upstairs room, head under the comforter and sweating,  hoping that the bees couldn't get in through the window screen and attack me before I was a grown up.

I'm still here, so they obviously didn't.  I'll always be on the lookout though.  I know those Killer Bees are still migrating north and just waiting to attack me in my vibrant red T-shirt.

Nuclear War

To put it simply, I was terrified that we were going to be bombed with nuclear missiles launched from Russia during the 1980’s. 

As a kid, the news seemed to always show this impending doom of a threat.  Russia was the “enemy”.  Nuclear warfare was a “possibility”. It was Us versus Them.  Even as a kid I knew that no matter who “won”, everyone lost.

Once again with the made-for-TV-movies, “The Day After” was a critical life changing moment for me.  I was a kid and this movie was no Hollywood fakeness.  This was REAL.  The family bunkered down in their basement and left the dog upstairs as the nuclear attack started.  They left the dog upstairs.  How could they do that?  I was much less concerned with the kid who got blinded by the nuclear flash than the fact that THEY LEFT THE DOG UPSTAIRS.  This was devastating to me as a child. You don't just leave your pets to DIE!

 

 

The movie portrayed a mix of people in different situations reacting to the nuclear blast.  The horror of its impact.  The helplessness of the masses.  The realization that life would never, ever be the same.  I watched with eyes wide and considered this an almost certainty in my life. Based on everything shown on "legitimate" TV news, everything seen in newspapers – nuclear war was a very clear danger. 

Later in life I saw a British movie entitled “Threads”.  This movie made “The Day After” look like a Disney World vacation.

In the End

I remember going to bed each night and asking God to watch over my family.  Please prevent nuclear war.   Please don’t let the bees come to New Jersey. As a born negotiator, I also threw this in to the mix:  “If nuclear war does happen, God – please give me time to save my stuffed animals and the glass doorknobs from each room.” 

Since it was very obvious the glass door knobs were made of diamonds and would provide us money should we become homeless, nuclear bombing victims on the run from Killer Bees.

Come to think of it, maybe I don't want to be a kid again, after all....

With Love

Lady Butterfly

xoxo