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I loved this poem as a child. My mom used to read it to me regularly. It helped shape my political consciousness at a very early age. It so captured my imagination, that on the evening of April 18th, 1975 (I was 11 then), I rode my Shetland pony through the streets of our town, crying, “The British are coming!” — perhaps I was the only reenactor on the 200th anniversary of the ride? The only one in California at any rate, I suspect.

It did have one negative effect on me though...

One fine Saturday morning, when I was very, very small, we were at the local public pool for swimming lessons. I and the other kids noticed a skywriter writing some huge words in smoke high above us and somewhat to the east. I remember distinctly that (a) I just barely knew my letters and couldn’t really read yet, and (b) the sun was in my eyes, which was the case for the other kids too, so it would have been tough to read in any case. However, the lifeguard squinted, shaded his eyes, and slowly read the words aloud for us, the terrifying words blazoned in the skies for the whole San Fernando Valley to see:

“THE....RUSSIANS....ARE...COMING”.

Pure terror! Especially having heard that Longfellow poem at mother’s knee! Mommy, Daddy, the Russians are coming!!!

I didn’t figure out til my 40’s, that the skywriter must have been hired by Hollywood to promote the comedy movie, “The Russians Are Coming” (released 5/25/1966). Which means that I was a few months shy of age 3 at the time. Who says early experiences don’t determine your politics? LOL