October of 1962 was dark, cold and rainy in Hanover, New Hampshire. It was also the month when the world almost ended. The potential ending began about October 16 with a report from President Kennedy that the Russians were sending missiles to be housed on the island of Cuba. Every evening, we heard more about the possible threat that could launch a war backed by the Soviet Union through armaments, perhaps nuclear weapons, located only moments from our shores. Back then, news coverage was much more limited than the 24/7 reports from today’s television, computer sites and cellphones. News came mainly in the dark of early evening. In between broadcasts, we prayed.
St Bridget was the local Catholic parish for Hanover. The pastor was Fr. Pitts. He kept the Church open and available for private gatherings at all hours. For the days between October 16 and October 28 the pews were well-occupied. I, myself, prayed there on several evenings.
My memories of that fortnight of the October crisis have been greatly limited over the intervening years. Prayer and worried discussions between faculty and students. An inward directedness. I do not recall the details; the photographs of the missile sites on the island have become blurred in my mind’s eye. The announcement that Khrushchev finally agreed to turn the ships away from Cuba remained only in archives, not in my personal memory. Nothing seemed real. It was a fantasy, a terrible nightmare that was present while we were awake. It came and went; we were able to take deep breaths, once more.
October passed into November and then into the bright days of sunshine of December in New England. The snows once more covered the fields and hills around the town. It became more difficult to drive to the top of Moose Mountain where our friends, Ann and Elisha Huggins, lived. But one bright day in mid-December, Karen, Debbie and I were invited to make the sojourn. It was time to get a Christmas tree. What better way to set aside the darkness of October than by cutting down our own tree from a mountain top owned by friends.
The three of us piled into our microbus and with great effort made our way up the very narrow road to a modern log cabin overlooking a green and white valley. However, by the time we started to look at the trees Elisha showed us, dusk had rapidly fallen, and our search was compromised. We did find a pine tree, took a hack saw to it, and tied the tree to the top of our VW. It was not until the next morning, in the light of a new day, that we realized what we had really cut down.
The pine needles seen as deep green in the early evening were now brown and brittle – at least that’s how the remaining ones appeared. The tree was the worst example of any Christmas tree we had ever seen – except, perhaps, the one owned by Charlie Brown. There was no way our attempts at decoration would change its appearance. Karen decided she and our three-year-old daughter should return to the mountain. A call to Elisha and Ann said I would drop the two of them off at the base of the dirt road heading up the mountain. However, on his way to meet them, Elisha’s jeep did not complete one of the turns on the winding road and became stuck in the surrounding snow. Debbie and Karen, who was mid-term with our future son, Ken, climbed up the mountain with Elisha. They found a very acceptable tree; it awaited my arrival, later in the day, with our microbus. We never cut down another tree for Christmas.
However, we did make it back to the Huggins’ log house on Moose Mountain. In April 1963, I was scheduled to present a research paper at the annual meeting of biochemists held in Atlantic City. Karen’s “due date” was over a week away, according to her obstetrician. When I received a telephone message at my hotel on April 18, I was sure friends from Hanover were pulling a prank at my expense. When I finally spoke with Karen, I learned I was the father of a newborn son. I felt like turning cartwheels on the Boardwalk. Lucile had to deliver my research paper, as I drove rapidly back to Hanover. Karen was in Mary Hitchcock Hospital. Debbie was staying with the Huggins’ family on Moose Mountain. We were finally united and ready for the next set of surprises for our expanded family.