The Wives of Los Alamos by Tarashea Nesbit Page B
Authors: Tarashea Nesbit
Tags: Historical
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Shirley in the mail and she read aloud to us: There’s no substitute for a daily bath as the groundwork of glamour! And we all longed for a bath we could not take, and Esther said aloud what we all thought: Oh, be quiet. And she shut the magazine.
O UR ATTIRE TOOK on the drab camouflage of the surroundings; the beige and muted tones of the desert became our wardrobe—and we could see how this attire appeared to an outsider, to the newly arrived. There was the sunlight’s skill at color and though we were subtle, though we often blended into the background, we left our red lips on one another’s coffee cups and highball glasses.
D ORIS LED THE charge of wearing broomstick skirts and Indian jewelry, perhaps thinking it would endear us to the Spanish Americans and Indians. We agreed that if you were in the soup it was best to swim.
S EPTEMBER CAME, AND inside our duplexes and apartments we heard the sounds of other families: thuds, bedsprings, a pattern of toy trucks being thumped on the floor, the rhythm of brooms, of vacuums, of steps, of typewriter keys. We heard timers, shower curtains, radios, faucets, the scrubbing of floors, our neighbors singing along. We heard the especially painful wails of children who were not our own.
O N OUR NEIGHBORS’ radios, which wafted into our living rooms, inescapable, we heard the weather interrupted to report, instead, that U.S. forces had landed in the Philippines. These were routine interruptions, almost as regular as Bob Hope ending every show with Bye-bye, and buy bonds .
I F WE JOINED the square dance group we made squaw costumes and wore heavy Indian jewelry. The colors of our husband’s badges were forgotten then, and we said it was the most inclusive place on the Hill, our square dance group, and we did not think about how those of us in this group were all Catholic. And no trailer mothers wanted or found time to lead the Cub Scouts, and so their boys were discouraged by some of us from joining the Cub Scouts. Nevertheless, Carol arranged for a sandbox and swing set to get their children out of the streets and a Quonset hut with a Ping-Pong table and a Victrola for the teenagers. We led the City Council and won the battle to keep our spare-room apartments as well as the fight not to expand the firing range.
P ERHAPS THE WACs thought we were prima donnas. Cecilia said they resented being told they were going to an island but had to come here instead. When we asked for carpet in the bedroom they narrowed their eyes as if to say our lodging was already too luxurious. If you want it you’ll have to buy it and install it yourself .
W E DID NOT like taking orders from girls in khaki. We especially did not like WACs slamming their cash registers shut and shouting, You’ll have to get in another line. We were sure they did not want to be running the cash register at the commissary, but they had signed up for it, not us.
A ND WE THOUGHT the WACs who assigned our homes and our maids picked favorites, and we said we were snubbed by the WACs when, upon giving birth to a second child, we were placed in a home next door to a single scientist who practiced his trumpet each night.
S OME OF US had the rare ability to project nonchalance, and some of us had the talent of spontaneity, and many of us knew how to give meaningful compliments. Some of us were said to be judgmental, and some us were called cynical by our husbands when we speculated about how the war would end. A few of us had the curse of truthfulness, which gave us little power.
N O MATTER HOW alone we felt there were things we could never do as individuals. A woman cannot conspire with herself. Alone, we were not a pack, a choir, or a brigade. But together, we were a mob of women armed with baby bottles and canned goods, demanding a larger commissary, and we got it. We were more than I , we were Us . We were Us despite our desire for singularity. We were the Us that organized the
O UR ATTIRE TOOK on the drab camouflage of the surroundings; the beige and muted tones of the desert became our wardrobe—and we could see how this attire appeared to an outsider, to the newly arrived. There was the sunlight’s skill at color and though we were subtle, though we often blended into the background, we left our red lips on one another’s coffee cups and highball glasses.
D ORIS LED THE charge of wearing broomstick skirts and Indian jewelry, perhaps thinking it would endear us to the Spanish Americans and Indians. We agreed that if you were in the soup it was best to swim.
S EPTEMBER CAME, AND inside our duplexes and apartments we heard the sounds of other families: thuds, bedsprings, a pattern of toy trucks being thumped on the floor, the rhythm of brooms, of vacuums, of steps, of typewriter keys. We heard timers, shower curtains, radios, faucets, the scrubbing of floors, our neighbors singing along. We heard the especially painful wails of children who were not our own.
O N OUR NEIGHBORS’ radios, which wafted into our living rooms, inescapable, we heard the weather interrupted to report, instead, that U.S. forces had landed in the Philippines. These were routine interruptions, almost as regular as Bob Hope ending every show with Bye-bye, and buy bonds .
I F WE JOINED the square dance group we made squaw costumes and wore heavy Indian jewelry. The colors of our husband’s badges were forgotten then, and we said it was the most inclusive place on the Hill, our square dance group, and we did not think about how those of us in this group were all Catholic. And no trailer mothers wanted or found time to lead the Cub Scouts, and so their boys were discouraged by some of us from joining the Cub Scouts. Nevertheless, Carol arranged for a sandbox and swing set to get their children out of the streets and a Quonset hut with a Ping-Pong table and a Victrola for the teenagers. We led the City Council and won the battle to keep our spare-room apartments as well as the fight not to expand the firing range.
P ERHAPS THE WACs thought we were prima donnas. Cecilia said they resented being told they were going to an island but had to come here instead. When we asked for carpet in the bedroom they narrowed their eyes as if to say our lodging was already too luxurious. If you want it you’ll have to buy it and install it yourself .
W E DID NOT like taking orders from girls in khaki. We especially did not like WACs slamming their cash registers shut and shouting, You’ll have to get in another line. We were sure they did not want to be running the cash register at the commissary, but they had signed up for it, not us.
A ND WE THOUGHT the WACs who assigned our homes and our maids picked favorites, and we said we were snubbed by the WACs when, upon giving birth to a second child, we were placed in a home next door to a single scientist who practiced his trumpet each night.
S OME OF US had the rare ability to project nonchalance, and some of us had the talent of spontaneity, and many of us knew how to give meaningful compliments. Some of us were said to be judgmental, and some us were called cynical by our husbands when we speculated about how the war would end. A few of us had the curse of truthfulness, which gave us little power.
N O MATTER HOW alone we felt there were things we could never do as individuals. A woman cannot conspire with herself. Alone, we were not a pack, a choir, or a brigade. But together, we were a mob of women armed with baby bottles and canned goods, demanding a larger commissary, and we got it. We were more than I , we were Us . We were Us despite our desire for singularity. We were the Us that organized the
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