Frank’s father in 1979
Having grown up in Goldsboro, I slept in the shadow of Three Mile Island for over twenty years. Everyday I had to gaze into the “clouds” of steam that bellowed into the atmosphere.
I was not alive in 1979, but the legacy of TMI is part of my existence and has shaped the way I perceive the world around me. There was, and still is, a perpetual angst about living less than a mile from the worst nuclear disaster in American history.
the thought of “just in case” is quite daunting
Being a kid swimming and fishing in the Susquehanna near TMI, we always thought it was where clouds were made. It wasn’t until I was a bit older when my dad always told me stories about the accident. It was then I understood the magnitude of living so close to the plant.
My dad was 19 during the partial meltdown, and he decided to stay in Middletown. He always remembered all the new kids “moving into town” when TMI was under construction as engineers and plant workers moved into the area.
we always wondered not if, but when, that siren would be real
An aerial view of Three Mile Island flying out of Harrisburg International Airport (Frank G)
As kids at Red Mill Elementary school in the 1990’s we had to take iodine tablets to protect our thyroids “just in case” another incident occurred. We didn’t truly understand why, but now the thought of “just in case” is quite daunting.
There had been an emergency siren over the hill from our house and every time they were being tested we always wondered not if, but when, that siren would be real.
After 9/11 there were armed National Guardsmen policing Goldsboro in fear that there could be an attack at TMI.
Always living with irrational fears, and always in the back of our minds that something would happen again. The stories, the sirens, and the omnipresence of the cooling towers in our backyard has become a part of who I am and how I develop my own story as a person.