The 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens: 30 years gone

Sometime in junior high, I watched a science class documentary about the eruption of Mount St. Helens. Among the aftermath footage were scenes from Yakima or Spokane: cars covered in volcanic ash and people covering their noses and mouths as they crossed streets in a thick particulate fog. Complimenting the images was a comedy bit from a radio station that said, “Thinking about a trip to Washington this summer? Don’t bother, because Washington’s coming to you!”

Everyone in class laughed.

A post over at Churchill’s Cigar reminded me that today is the 30th anniversary of the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens.

For some reason, I’ve always had a strange historical affinity with the Mount St. Helens eruption. It is one of the most iconic moments in the last years before I was born, and is emblematic of the era. The Iran hostage crisis, Three Mile Island, Thatcher, Reagan, the Olympic boycott, Solidarity, the Happy Meal. The turn of the decade was a tumultuous time, and overshadowing it all was the 80,000-foot eruption column from Mount St. Helens. Whenever I see The Blues Brothers or hear Lipps, Inc.’s one-hit-wonder “Funkytown” (both released in 1980), I think of the distant aerial footage from the science class documentary: dark skies and the billowing tower of a mountain that just blew its top.

The eruption happened days before my parents’ wedding, so it is loosely intertwined with my family. Just as certain movies and songs remind me of the eruption, the eruption makes me think of my parents’ wedding reception pictures. Everyone is dressed in their “fashion-wise, it’s still the ‘70s” attire, and certain relatives I’ve always known as old have smooth skin and dark curly hair. They all look a little wasted, including the reserved, coffee klatch Lutherans on my mom’s side. Imperceptibly, each was inhaling and ingesting miniscule amounts of what had once been Mount St. Helens.