I know it's good, but.....

   Whenever I hear the voice, Peter Coyote's, narrating "The Roosevelts,"  I get a gnawing pang in the pit of my stomach.  I know it is a well thought out and vividly presented production, as Ken Burns' programs are, but it brings back too many memories of my childhood angst.  I used to feel physically sick when I was little and heard the news presented by Gabriel Heatter. Even though he would say, "There's good news tonight," I always thought he meant the opposite.  My father would be glued to the radio; all conversation stopped.  I never spoke of my fears; children didn't back then, at least none we knew.  I knew there was a war; unlike modern times, everyone then was conscious of it, even with  only newspapers as media coverage, along with the evening  news on the  radio.  
     I used to lie in bed at night, and if I heard the sound of an airplane, I would be sure we were going to be bombed.  We never talked about it, but there were the blackouts and the sirens, and ration stamps, and a scarcity of sugar and butter, and my father driving his old car with cardboard blocking the glow of the headlights as he carried out his duties as marshal. 
     The voices emanating from our old radio conveyed doom and gloom.  You could tell bad things were in store just by the tone of the voices.  That is where the narration of "The Roosevelts" carries me---to a place of dread and sadness.  When the death of FDR was announced, my father cried.  I had never known him to cry and I was completely dismayed, as if the world were to end.  I know there are 14 hours of the Roosevelt saga, and they will be viewed in our house.  Valid and valuable historical airings as they are, I will need to find something else to do before I plunge into complete depression or develop an ulcer.  As I write, I can hear someone playing "Taps."  It might be too late.