Being born in World War II, I am considered part of the Silent Generation instead of a Baby Boomer, those born between 1946 and 1964. The reality is that World War II babies are much more a part of the Baby Boomer Generation than the Silent Generation. (At least, I’ve never been accused of being silent.)  It was the events of the 50s and 60s—particularly of the 60s— not the Great Depression and World War II that laid the foundation of who I would become. Four events that took place while I was at Sierra College expanded my world view and moved me from my conservative to a more liberal perspective.

In my last post, I gained a new perspective on what a minority meant, and learned that progress had negative as well as positive impacts. Today, I will look at the impact on my thinking caused by the Cuban Missile Crisis and the so called ‘Holy Wars’ down through the ages.

On Facing Nuclear Oblivion…

All of our young lives we had been raised under the threat of a nuclear cloud. We were constantly treated to photographs and television coverage of massive, doomsday explosions and their tale-tale clouds. They were more than an ut-oh, they were possibly the final UT-OH!

Atom bombs, which could destroy whole cities and kill millions of people, weren’t massive enough, however. We needed bigger bombs and we needed more. We needed hydrogen bombs. We ended up with enough nuclear weapons to kill everyone in the world and blast ourselves and the rest of life into times that would make the so-called Dark Ages seem like a Sunday picnic in the park. The logic was that it would serve as a deterrent to war, that it would bring peace. And to a degree, there was an element of truth in this. At least we haven’t used nuclear weapons— yet. But wars continue to rage.

The closest America came to the nuclear holocaust (that we know of) took place during two terrifying weeks in late October 1962.  I, along with most of the student body and faculty at Sierra College, sat tethered to the radio in the Campus Center as our nation teetered on the edge of nuclear abyss. It all came about because a cigar chomping, right-wing dictator we liked had been replaced by a cigar chomping, left-wing dictator we didn’t. It was known as the Cuban Missile Crisis and has its own headlines in the history books as being a highlight of the Cold War. 

Castro and his revolution provided a toehold for Communism in the Western Hemisphere. President Jack Kennedy responded by waging a crusade to get rid of him that had started with alleged assassination attempts using Mafia hit men and ended in the fiasco known as the Bay of Pigs. Castro had then called on Uncle Khrushchev to loan him something that might make the USA back off. Russia had responded by offering nuclear missiles. 

The thought of having nuclear missiles capable of reaching the areas shown on the diagram above made the folks in Washington rightfully nervous. So Kennedy set up a blockade of Cuba. Fortunately, aided by promises that the US wouldn’t invade Cuba and that we would remove our missiles from Turkey, Khrushchev blinked. 

My rock that was Peter relocates itself on an active fault zone…

My father’s greatest concern had little to do with the first three changes in my world view. It was the fourth that gave him sleepless nights. His family’s deep faith dated all the way back to the beginning of Presbyterianism in Scotland. Much to his delight, I had become seriously religious in high school. I was the senior acolyte, a junior lay reader, carried the cross, and even sang solos with the choir at the Episcopal Church in Placerville. I was a believer. There was even talk of my becoming a minister. 

That changed when I went to college. In 1961 I picked up a Barnes and Noble-published book at the Sierra College bookstore on comparative religions and learned about Mithraism and Zoroastrianism. I caught a glimpse of how much of our great monotheistic religions were based on earlier belief systems or mythologies. The strong religious convictions of my teenage years began to crack. 

Studying history had a much greater impact. In reading about the Roman Empire, I learned that the nature of Christ’s divinity was determined by vote at the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE in a bare knuckled political battle, not the most holy of environments. Even more disturbing, I was also learning about Crusades, Jihads, Inquisitions, and various other ‘Holy Wars.’ Doing unto others in the name of God, Allah, Jehovah, Christ, etc. seemed close to a commandment. 

For all of the good religion has done down through the ages, and there is a great deal, it has also been a factor in much of the world’s violence and intolerance. I came to the conclusion that there was a fly in the ointment, a fatal flaw in religion that may yet bring about the Armageddon that so many fundamentalists believe in. Belief that a particular religion is the only true faith is one thing. Believing that adherents have an obligation to impose it on others— regardless of cost— is something else. It doesn’t leave much room for ‘Peace on Earth Goodwill toward Men.’ 

So here I was in mid-1963, a budding peacenik with international leanings, something of an agnostic, environmentally concerned, and committed to civil and human rights. I had definitely become more liberal in my perspective. I had made a left turn from the right lane. I figured I was ready for Berkeley. (Not)