I noticed the changing of
seasons then. Spring had come early that year. The crocuses broke through the
soil in early March, announcing the beginning of a new birth of season. We did
not have much land behind our aging brownstone home in
I was only eight years old; an age when the adult world seemed remote and daily life was
still a process of discovery. I believed then with a simple faith. I naturally
accepted people on their word. The world had been divided that year by a cold
war, the chill of which had yet to inflict our lives with undue tension. It was
the year of togetherness, fraternities and uninspired TV. It was also the year
that flying saucers were seen soaring over
What had begun for me as an
uneventful spring day in April became a journey into the world of fear brought
on by the power of imagination. I had left early for school. It was a brisk
spring morning. The clear sky, dotted with an occasional cloud and flight of a
sparrow seemed to suggest an inner peace of cosmic order. I waked unhurriedly
through the streets flanked by rows of familiar brownstone homes, and soon came
upon the schoolyard where little herds and clusters of animated children were
gathered.
“They said it landed during
the night.”
I immediately recognized the
voice of Bobby Baxter.
“My father said it was near
“They already killed hundreds
of people and are heading towards
What it was and who they were
remained unknown to me at first, except that I was triggered with alarm at the
intrusion of the unknown. As the day progressed I was gradually made aware of
the fact that during the previous night a reported flying saucer had landed
somewhere near Chicago and that a small army of horrible creatures was working
its way to New York spreading destruction in its path. This was no mere rumor
because Bobby Baxter told us that morning, and he should know because his
father worked for the Daily News.
Now, at eight years old I
believed all this. I believed what I was told. I believed, for example, that if
you ate too many pickles your blood would turn into pickle juice, or if you
didn’t drink three glasses of milk a day, your bones would blend into your
muscles and become mushy. I believed that all Communists hated God and beat up
little children who dared to pray. I believed because I took it for granted
that people would never want to deceive me.
During lunchtime I went up
to the teacher and asked her.
“Is
“What?” she answered.
“
“Well,” she replied, “It’s
not near. But you can fly to
“Oh, my God” I thought, “If
a plane can make it in a few hours then surely we will be invaded by
nightfall.”
After that I couldn’t concentrate on
afternoon classes. Everything seemed so out of proportion. The teacher’s words
were lost in the anxiety of the moment. Upon dismissal I hurried home by
passing a usual stop at the candy store, and quickly rushed through the house
and into the garden. There my mother was turning over the soil with a small
shovel breaking the top layer of winter frost and preparing the earth for the
flowers of spring. She had a way with soil that made it yield to her care. She
was of the earth and I felt suddenly secure in seeing her so calm.
“Home so soon?” she inquired.
“I came right home. I didn’t
stop anywhere.”
She seemed so calm. She was
always calm. I wanted to tell her of my fear, but I was equally fearful of
alarming her as well. I quickly ran back into the house and up to my room. I
felt it at first necessary to prepare myself for the oncoming invasion. The
more I thought the more futile it all seemed to me. One knows quite well that
you can’t mess with Martians and other creatures from outer space. They carry
around these ray guns that break down walls and disintegrate people. Their
lizard-like, bulletproof skin defies assault, and their superior intelligence
gave them an omniscience known only to God. Their rotating eye and beaklike
mouth made them a horror to behold.
I finally resigned myself to
my fate. I felt consoled by the fact that I shared this destiny with eight
million other New Yorkers, not counting all those who had already met their
destruction on the
That evening our family was
gathered at dinner table. I was very quiet throughout the meal. I wanted to ask
so many questions but was unable to do so. I wanted to ask them all if they
were aware of what had happened. My oldest sister spoke only of her poodle cut
and her boyfriend’s new Edsel. Mom wondered if there
would be enough rain this spring to take care of the flowers and pop was always
enveloped in a conspiracy of silence.
Later that evening, after the
dinner dishes had been put away, we sat don to television and watched the
evening news. No mention was ever made of any Martian landing or space
invasion, but I was convinced that our kind government did not wish to alarm a
doomed populace.
Finally the dreaded moment was
upon me.
“Time to go
to bed, now. You’ll have to get up early tomorrow for school.”
I pleaded for a ten minute
extension of time, but was firmly refused.
“Let’s hear none of that. Come
on now, up to bed.”
I ascended the stairs into the
darkness. My room in the afternoon did not seem as forbidding as it did now.
The darkness, like the primeval unknown, had a way of confirming my fear. The
objects in the room seemed to deride me. As I lay in bed I noticed that the
street lamp outside my window cast an eerie glow upon the wall of my room, and
in my imagination the clown figures on the wallpaper seemed to have come alive
in silent pantomime. The footsteps of
night people on the outside pavement beneath my window were magnified in my
mind as I identified them with the emissaries of doom. I fought against sleep
until sheer exhaustion finally claimed me into the world of dreams.
The Martians never came that
night nor any other night and today I feel somewhat
cheated. When one considers the atrocities and tortures Man has wrought upon
his fellow men, I think in retrospect that Martians would have been quite
congenial and humane. Needless to say I no longer believe that man will be
invaded from outer space. It is the constant invasion from Man himself that
needs to be feared.