Khrushchev, Fall-Out Shelters and Magnolia Trees

One of my memories of growing up in Louisiana during the fifties is of the giant magnolia tree in the neighbor’s front yard, across the street. The days were always sunny, nights damp and cloying. You couldn’t take a deep breath without experiencing the heady perfume wafting from the tree’s fragrant blossoms. And they were so delicate. If you touched one, even with the back of your hand, they would shrivel and turn black.

The Magnolia develops seed pods that somewhat resemble hand grenades and the gang and I used them as such when we played war – something we did almost every day. There was only one really large magnolia tree but someone had planted many others along the extent of Vivian’s Spruce Street. They stood like silent sentinels, always present and somehow reassuring in an otherwise disturbing era dominated by fallout shelters, H-bombs and Khrushchev’s Cold War antics.

I know little to this day about the horticulture of magnolia trees. I only know that southerners are blessed with a climate that allows the continued growth of these gentle beauties. The Cold War has thawed but the magnolia trees across the street from my parent’s house are still there. For me they embody peace and strength, and the world is a grander place because of them. This makes me happy.

Louisiana Mystery Writer