The War Years And Adolescence
THE WAR YEARS AND ADOLESCENCE
I
was four years old when World War II broke out and 10 years old when it ended. Despite my young age, this event is possibly the greatest driver of my memory. The dominance of the war permeated the fabric of our fears, our food, our possessions, our everything. Here are some recollections of a little girl from Providence, Rhode Island. Each week, following the siren announcing air raid drills, we went to the basement, drew the shades to blacken the room, and waited for my Uncle Jack, the warden and neighbor, to declare we were safe and could end the drill. (He was beloved by my dad, and also responsible for my middle name, Alice.) Back then, magazines were to us what television is today. “Look,” “The Saturday Evening Post,” and “Life” were our CNN. They displayed large, terrifying red and black photos of Adolph Hitler and the goose steppers. I read every word weekly for many years. When walking to Hope Street, twenty minutes from our house, (which I did often alone – no fear of kidnapping then), I was looking for Nazis behind every tree. Shopping in stores on Hope Street gave me some relief from boredom, but candy bars were scarce, and chewing gum was wrapped in plain paper because aluminum foil was used for weaponry.
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