Back to the 'Hill'

Hey there!  It's almost ...

Imagine, if you will --

... your husband coming home one day to say, "Get ready. We're moving out west. But, you can't tell anyone where we're going or for how long."  He'd continue: "Don't worry, the government will take care of us."

(OK, I'll wait 'til everyone quits laughing.)

A few years ago some of you may recall I wrote a similar post. But! Given the 'new normal' behaviors we've endured for the last 4 months, I'm can't not make comparisons.

Road up to Los Alamos, aka the 'Hill'

Sometimes it seems the years I spent growing up on the 'Hill' happened to someone else.  Like Teflon, the significance of what went on there before I was born never really touched me.

Then a few years ago I happened on a little book, authored by a real LA housewife, Eleanor Jette.  Her opening remarks gave me goosebumps:

"In 1943 I lived in Croton-on-Hudson, New York with my husband Eric and my son Bill who was almost 10 years old. At that time I had no idea there was a Box 1663 in the Santa Fe post office, nor that I would disappear into it, lose my identity and emerge from it at the end of 1945 an entirely different person."

Omega bridge

One observer wrote, "Los Alamos, New Mexico was a bustling little city that officially didn't exist."

To ensure that this town was completely hidden from the rest of the world, incoming (censored) mail was addressed simply to P.O. Box 1663, Santa Fe, New Mexico.  Birth certificates of infants born there during the war even listed 'P.O. Box 1663' as their place of birth.

My heart ached for those who worked in grim secrecy... whose parents and extended family members had no idea where they were.  Astonished, too, at the harsh living conditions families had to endure ..... a far cry from what I was privy to in the 50's and 60's when the government practically threw money in our direction.

At the same time, there was humor.

Long-time resident, Marge Schreiber, remembered an afternoon in early August of 1945 when her husband witnessed an accident at the Lab and was thought to have been exposed to radiation.  She wrote:

"Harriet Hollaway was at the foot of the stairs and, after I told her, we just looked at each other. In times of crisis, we would take out the whiskey bottle. Harriet went and got her bottle. Every time I looked like I was going to faint, Harriet would give me another shot. I have no idea how much I drank during that time, but I am certain I completely depleted her supply. Consequently, I have no memory of that night, and that's how I got through it."

1947 newspaper clipping

My childhood apartment (left rear)

I'm not sure I'd be strong enough to endure the conditions in which they lived. But I'm feeling mighty indebted to those who did!

As Ms. Jette put it, "They did what they had to do to win the war."

(l-r) Me in my father's gear and weapon

Original tower at what once was the front security gate

Mother's identification badge

The back gate where my father spent many a lonely night.

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Until next time ...

Stay safe and keep smiling!

Hugs, Myra