The Sky Is Falling
Originally published at Durosia.com. You can comment here or there.
Twenty years ago, my generation experienced its second world-changing event.
The first had been when the space shuttle Challenger exploded shortly after it's launch. Turning into a vivid fireball in the blue Florida sky in a moment that is indelibly etched in the memories of thousands of grade school children like myself who were watching live at the time.
That terrible January day shook many of our dreams of going into space, but had little repercussion for us in our day to day lives other than introducing us to the cold world of the burgeoning 24-hour news cycle.
Little did we know then that not a decade later our world would once again be shaken. This time on a much more down to earth level. This time with much more lasting impressions.
It was 1991 and I was in my sophomore year of high school. My biggest problems were all internal worries--did that girl I like like me back, what could I do to fit in a little better with that group of people there, how am I going to decide where I'm going to go to college in a few years. Common worries of a truly privileged generation. I'd never known the hardships of my parents, or grandparents... neither had most of my classmates.
But on January 16, just as we were sitting down to dinner with our families, our world changed. For the first time, we saw our President come on television and tell us we were at war.
Over the next weeks, the news was awash with images of explosions--some caused by our bombing of Iraqi targets, others of retaliatory strikes in other nations we'd only recently learned about in our history classes. As January closed out and February began, talk of a ground war started.
For those of us who were in our mid to late teens at the time, the idea of a reinstated draft became a worry. We'd never before had to imagine the possibility of our innumerable future choices suddenly being reduced to two: fight or flight. We could, in another couple of years, if the war were to drag out, find ourselves ankle deep in sand and fire, not sure if we were going to live or die.
Dramatic? A bit. Desert Storm was over shortly after the ground war began. Saddam pulled back out of Kuwait and the fight was over, the mission accomplished.
And we went back to living our privileged lives. This time, though, with an acute awareness of just how thin a rope we could be walking.
The roughly two months from when the first bombs were dropped to when the first troops returned were stressful ones. Emotions ran high, fears rampant, and when it was over, we were a slightly changed generation. We'd gotten a taste of what our parents had seen--some first hand--and could now talk about war with a deeper understanding. (Though not as deep an understanding as we can now, sadly.)
Over the years, I've met a number of people who served in Desert Storm. Some of them have been good friends of mine. I have the utmost respect for all of them. As I do for all who choose a military career, especially now.
Twenty years is a long time. We've squeezed a lot of history into those two decades. And still, that January day when our dinner was prefaced by the coming of a new reality is one of the most pivotal moments of my life.
It made me aware of the interconnectedness of the world--how something going on thousands of miles away can change lives down the street. It also made me more aware of how fragile our lifestyles are and how quickly things can change.
Above all, it's the reason I'm so wary now. Back then, the sky was falling, but it was over quickly. Now, the war has stretched on far longer and has cost the world as a whole more than we could have even imagined in 1991.
Now we have a generation coming of age who've known nothing but a country in a state of war. Thankfully, that war is on foreign soil and not our own, so we're still a privileged nation by many standards.
Some days, I wonder if we'll ever make it back to something resembling how things were... even how things were in April of 1991. When the world seemed more chaotic, but at least we could look back and say, "At least it was over quickly. At least the sky stopped falling."