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Life, death and politics in Hawaii: 125 years of colonial rule

I threw on clothes and told the kids to do the same. I told them why. I did not have the energy or forethought to lie. I did not have an emergency kit. I grabbed onto their hands and ran across the street to Safeway.

I thought it would have an enclosed, safe room. It didn’t. We went into the bathroom. One of my children was so brave. She stood close to me, silently. The other couldn’t stop crying because we were about to die. I held them both and told them to be positive, to think that everything would be alright. We waited.

Eventually, news of a false alert appeared on my phone, but I didn’t know what to believe. Someone knocked on the bathroom door. He confirmed the rumours of a false alert, but still there was no all-clear. It didn’t come until 10 minutes later. Then I could allow myself to feel again. But the feelings are too painful to hold for very long.

My mind understands that a state employee made an error, in the context of a flawed system, that created unnecessary panic. My heart stands ready for the next alert, when I may not be lucky enough to hold my kids in our last moments. It hurts now to let them out of my sight.

Some of my friends reacted completely differently. They had no desire to survive a nuclear blast. When the alert came, they went outside and looked to the west, where they would see the blast and die quickly and peacefully.

Source: Salon: in-depth news, politics, business, technology & culture > Politics

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