What Would You Do?

For nearly 40 minutes this past Saturday, more than one million Hawaiian residents and tourists thought they had good enough reason to believe they might die from an inbound ballistic missile, panic triggered by a false Emergency Alert broadcast communication.

Hawaii is a chain of islands wholly surrounded by vast ocean. Any major potential disaster – tsunami, volcano explosion, mudslide, war- is a reminder that there is nowhere to go.

I missed being a Baby Boomer by five years but know of the “duck and cover” training videos from the 1950’s. With the Cold War’s half-century run having terminated concurrently with the Reagan presidency, the visual image of fourth graders covering their heads and tucking under desks to shield against an atomic bomb had become something of an improbable if not humorous event to many of us.

Saturday, Hawaiians and their tourist guests found themselves fleeing imminent danger if not death. Some located and hunkered down in hotel basement bunkers, some huddled and crouched in stairwells of homes or stores, and some just ran through the streets or jumped into cars not sure where to go. Confusion, fear, and terror swept over our 50th State in the quick instant of a smartphone ding. Is the Cold War resurrected? We may be closer to a nuclear launch than we have been in decades.

Consider for a moment, if the alarm sounded. What would you do?

Yesterday’s news was filled with screenshots of text messages sent and received, transcripts of phone calls made and voicemails recorded Saturday morning in Hawaii. Compilations of panic, fear, confusion, curiosity, skepticism, worry, love for friends and family, hope for the best. A small reminder of 9/11 or perhaps Pearl Harbor for some. Two did happen, on Saturday one ultimately did not. For thirty-eight minutes, there may not have been a difference to those in the Aloha State.

Should a ballistic missile have launched presumably from North Korea, it would have struck in twenty minutes, not a lot of time to do more than phone a friend. That wait would probably feel like an eternity with thoughts of “what did I want to do with my life and what am I now going to miss out on” jostling with fear in one’s head.

Reminds me of cancer.

When I was diagnosed the November before last I felt like I didn’t have much recourse beyond “duck and cover” and telephoning my most dear family and friends to share my predicament. It was very scary, but like an incoming missile I didn’t have much choice beyond riding it out. What would the aftermath be, when would this be over? Would I experience death, maiming, disfigurement, or would I escape unscathed and unblemished? Like many other attacks and disasters, time would tell.

The MRI machine was the cramped bunker where my fate might be decided, my own duck and cover. All I could do was lie still, try to control my breathing, all while trying hard and failing to hold back fear and speculation. What might I miss out on once this was all over? If I am granted the gift of time, I had to ask myself these questions, much like the Hawaii folks must have been asking themselves.

Think about it for a moment. What would you do?