Edited by Kristen Iversen, with E.
Warren Perry and Shannon Perry
Expected publishing date Fall of
2020
Reviewed by Ginny Short
Warning: don’t pick up this book
unless you are prepared to be shocked.
But frankly, if you happen to live
in the Atomic Age – which, unless you have been sleeping you know that time is
now – you should read this book. I remember learning to duck and cover.
I remember being terrified that we would go up in nuclear smoke. I was born
just upwind of Rocky Flats. I remember. I grew up about 100 miles from the
Trinity Site in New Mexico. I remember. I have spent most of my adult life
within 100 miles of a nuclear plant. I remember. This book jogs my own recollection,
and reminds me that the nuclear reactor that I have lived close to for nearly 40
years, and the atomic skies I grew up under are still a threat, still something
to fear. They are not something to hide, lock up and throw away the key. We have a radioactive history.
This book is intense. Some of the
essays are dense with science (I’m still struggling with the concepts of
picocuries and curies), and some of them appeal to the broader public. But each
and every essay sketches a story around the theme of radioactive contamination
and secrecy and the promise of the American Dream. Imagine you are a couple with
a new family. Imagine you have saved and saved and finally have enough for a
down payment on a house. Imagine you buy it. I have neighbors who bought houses
downwind of a series of sand dunes. To them the dunes are demonic: they coat
their streets and yards and golf courses with fine, white sand. There is an odd,
unwritten contract in the buying of a home: unless it is expressly encoded by law, you won’t find in
the fine print the problems the house may have. Like dust. Like radioactive
dust. My neighbors can see the dust and they howl like coyotes. This is
annoying dust. Imagine if you can’t see the dust. Imagine then what it can do
to you, to your family, your friends. But no one has any obligation to warn you
about the dust. Would you howl if you knew your new home was contaminated with
radioactivity that will outlast you for 959 generations to come?
This is the story, the
complication, the audacity of Rocky Flats, one of many cold-war sites producing
parts for the nuclear weapons that initiated the Atomic Age. This is a story
that all those who live in our Atomic Neighborhood should read. And make no
mistake, we are all in the Neighborhood as Linda Pentz Gunter’s essay The
Nuclear Power-Nuclear Weapons Connection really makes clear. We are in the
neighborhood, and you may find as you ponder these essays surprising
connections in your own life. I was born 9 miles away from Rocky Flats (and
upwind), just 4 years after it opened. I wonder if my parents knew about
it? They never mentioned it. My Dad worked at White Sands Missile Range – another site of cold war military
expertise - for most of his adult life. He was never allowed to speak about his
work.
I would caution you: some of the
essays are difficult to read. Some because they are dense with scientific
jargon. Keep going: you can get through these.
(Just remember that a picocurie is one measurement of the rate of decay of uranium:
in one minute it will exhibit 2 decays or disintegrations. Each “decay”
releases radioactive energy called alpha, beta or gamma rays. Each time it releases
energy it bombards surrounding tissue and can damage it. If you inhale a single
particle containing one picocurie of energy, and it lodges in your lungs it
will bombard the surrounding cells twice every minute for the remainder of your
life. If you live 40 more years you will receive radiation exposure 31,540,000,000
times over the course of your life in those cells. So, a soil sample with 50 picocuries contained
therein will decay at 100 times per day. So, if a particle of radioactive
material containing 50 picocuries of energy lodges in – say your lung, it will
continually bombard your lung tissue 100 times a day for the remainder of your
life. Remember that that particle will outlast you.) Needless to say, that is a
lot of radiation focused in a very small area. This is how I digested the information
contained in these essays
Read through these. And be
encouraged, many of the other essays will summarize what the geeky scientists
like to read and write. Read through. But be advised, they are all difficult to
read because of the allegations made, and the jumble of facts, and suppositions.
They are difficult to read because of the allegations of cover ups, the disquieting
stories of heroism, patriotism, loss and sacrifice. They are also encouraging:
what better use of art than to illustrate this important
part of our history?
Read on. The final essay is a
wonderful tome on the responsibility we have towards ourselves and future
generations. We don’t want to hide the fact of our nuclear history. This book
is not about blame but about responsibility. This has been part of the problem.
The author of the final essay (Kathleen Sullivan) makes a compelling case for
us to own our nuclear history, claim it, explore it and save it for future
generations. We can’t do that if we don’t know it exists. We already have a
legacy of contaminated land and illness among our people. If we do not own that
history, if we do not think about it, it will continue to silently contaminate our
legacy for 24,000 years...if we survive that long.
