The very first time that I realized I was part of a world that was bigger than my little town in Western Pennsylvania was when the Three Mile Island Accident happened outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. We lived only a few hours from this national event, and while so many other events of the 70’s seemed so far away, this accident, born out of a type of power that was supposed to be good for our country, was right in my own backyard.
So I remember penny candy and trying to wear my hair like Princess Leia did in the first Star Wars movie. And I remember Disco steps, or at least trying to do Disco steps. And I remember my parents being tense and worried, much like other parents were during this time period when the Rust Belt was born.
But most of all, I remember Walter Cronkite, calm and cool and reflective and almost grandfatherly-like on our little black and white television. It was as if everything would be okay, no matter what, if he was on the screen.
RIP Walter Cronkite
The Scrapper Poet 