The Good Old Days: How to Reckon Them

I've got a fresh perspective for the worn cliche about "the good old days."

It's not prompted by pleasant recurring memories of my childhood.

Those, I don't have. At least, I haven't had any lately.

Besides, the good old days I'm talking about predate my fascination of the horse-drawn ice cream wagons by many years.

I'm
going back to the days when Indian war parties would come hell-bent out
of the hills and loose volleys of poison arrows into wagon trains of
settlers pushing west.

And, the era when epidemics of disease would flare and spread unchecked, leaving whole communities numb in mourning.

And,
the time when women afflicted with twitch were dragged from their
colonial bungalows by superstitious neighbors and hanged as witches.

Those days held a lot of grief and fear and fatalistic resignation.

But I question whether the dangers, real and fancied, were a fraction of what they are at this moment.

On
my desk I have a copy of a private memorandum which was circulated to a
select group of individuals in our town on Friday, May 22, of this year.

It was written by an intelligent, respected man in our society: Dr. Stafford L. Warren, dean, School of Medicine, UCLA.

These are its contents:

"MEMORANDUM TO THE FACULTY OF THE SCHOOL OF MEDICINE:

"While
it may sound foolish and the chances of anything happening are
fantastically small, it might be well to keep in mind the fact of Mr.
Khrushchev's deadline of the end of this month, and not forget that the
next two week ends and the days in between are days of some risk of
sudden attack.

"I am stimulated to send this reminder because of
the sudden change in Mr. Khrushchev's attitude about the fine outcomes
which he predicts for the Geneva talks.

"This is not unlike the psychological situation just prior to Pearl Harbor.

"I
suggest no action other than that each of you should think a bit about
what you would do if such were to happen, and what your
responsibilities to the Medical Center and Civil Defense Medical Plan
might be and should be."

I don't know what your initial reaction to Dr. Warren's memorandum is, but I know what mine was.

I
was sorry that the doctor had taken the time to dictate it. I smelled
an unreal fear — the kind of fear which, reproduced on a mass basis,
could only lead to trouble.

Jumping at shadows can be dangerous.
You can only become so afraid — so jumpy — before you reach the point
where you've got to do something.

On second consideration,
however, I wondered whether the doctor wasn't being a little more
logical about the situation than I was.

Ostriches, not people, stick their heads in the sand at signs of possible danger.

He Sure Had Me Scared

I
guess Dr. Warren was taking the same clinical approach that a city
health officer would use if he discovered a case of typhoid in his area
of jurisdiction. He would prepare for the worst by taking the best
preventive measures within his power.

But the question in any
matter where mass panic could develop is just to what extent the public
should be informed of the potential dangers.

There's a thin line between keeping your associates informed and creating unnecessary hysteria.

I realize now that the doctor didn't cross it.

But, for a minute there, he sure had me scared.