I Wasn’t There
By Christopher Munroe
I’m thirty-six years old.
Which means that, when the Berlin Wall fell, I was twelve.
Do you get that? I was twelve. The idea of the cold war, and all it entailed, all the fear, hate, dread and paranoia, are things that I’ve only ever viewed through the prism of a twelve-year-old boy’s perspective.
I’m reasonably intelligent, good with history, but let’s face it, at twelve I wasn’t able to properly interpret the level of geopolitical relpolitik the fall of the wall required.
I wasn’t there yet, intellectually speaking.
And now, it’s too late.
That moment in history has passed…