Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats

Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats

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by Kristen Iversen

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Full Body Burden is a haunting work of narrative nonfiction about a young woman, Kristen Iversen, growing up in a small Colorado town close to Rocky Flats, a secret nuclear weapons plant once designated "the most contaminated site in America." It's the story of a childhood and adolescence in the shadow of the Cold War, in a landscape at once startlingly

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Full Body Burden is a haunting work of narrative nonfiction about a young woman, Kristen Iversen, growing up in a small Colorado town close to Rocky Flats, a secret nuclear weapons plant once designated "the most contaminated site in America." It's the story of a childhood and adolescence in the shadow of the Cold War, in a landscape at once startlingly beautiful and--unknown to those who lived there--tainted with invisible yet deadly particles of plutonium.

It's also a book about the destructive power of secrets--both family and government. Her father's hidden liquor bottles, the strange cancers in children in the neighborhood, the truth about what was made at Rocky Flats (cleaning supplies, her mother guessed)--best not to inquire too deeply into any of it.

But as Iversen grew older, she began to ask questions. She learned about the infamous 1969 Mother's Day fire, in which a few scraps of plutonium spontaneously ignited and--despite the desperate efforts of firefighters--came perilously close to a "criticality," the deadly blue flash that signals a nuclear chain reaction. Intense heat and radiation almost melted the roof, which nearly resulted in an explosion that would have had devastating consequences for the entire Denver metro area. Yet the only mention of the fire was on page 28 of the Rocky Mountain News, underneath a photo of the Pet of the Week. In her early thirties, Iversen even worked at Rocky Flats for a time, typing up memos in which accidents were always called "incidents."

And as this memoir unfolds, it reveals itself as a brilliant work of investigative journalism--a detailed and shocking account of the government's sustained attempt to conceal the effects of the toxic and radioactive waste released by Rocky Flats, and of local residents' vain attempts to seek justice in court. Here, too, are vivid portraits of former Rocky Flats workers--from the healthy, who regard their work at the plant with pride and patriotism, to the ill or dying, who battle for compensation for cancers they got on the job.

Based on extensive interviews, FBI and EPA documents, and class-action testimony, this taut, beautifully written book promises to have a very long half-life.

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Editorial Reviews

The Rocky Flats nuclear weapons plant near Denver began production in 1953; within four years, the plutonium factory had its first major accident, the first of many. In fact, by the end of its forty-year run, the plant would gain notoriety as "the most contaminated site in America." Kristen Iversion, the author of this disarming memoir, grew up in the radioactive shadow of this secret facility and she witnessed at close quarters the disastrous effects of its activities. In Full Body Burden, she combines haunting personal experiences and talented investigative reporting to expose our government's betrayal of its responsibility to its citizens. A Discover Great New Writers selection.

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Mother’s Day


It’s 1963 and I’m five. I lie across the backseat of the family car, sleeping with my cheek pressed against the vinyl. My mother sits in the front with baby Karin and my father drives, carefully holding his cigarette just at the window’s edge. This is how I remember my mother and father: smoking in a cool, elegant way that makes me want to grow up quick so I can smoke, too. It’s evening and I’m tired and cranky. The spring day has been spent on a long drive through the Colorado mountains, a Sunday ritual.

We turn the corner to our home on Johnson Court, the square little house my parents bought when my father left his job as an attorney for an insurance company and set up his own law practice. The neighborhood is made up of winding rows of houses that all look like ours: a front door and a picture window facing the street, two windows on each side, and a sliding door in the back that opens to a postage-stamp backyard. We have a view of the mountains and one tree.

“Uh-oh,” my mother says.

“Jesus.” My dad stops the car. I scramble to my knees to look.

Our house is smoldering. One side is gone. A fire truck and a police car with streaking red lights stand in the driveway.

My dad jumps out and my mom reaches over and pulls up the parking brake. “Dick,” she says, “I’m taking Kris to the neighbor’s.” My mother is always good in a crisis.

Mrs. Hauschild is waiting at her door. She takes a pair of pajamas from her daughter’s room--we’re almost the same age--and she beds me down in the basement in a sleeping bag. “She’ll be fine here,” Mrs. Hauschild says. “She doesn’t need to see all that commotion.” She suggests they both have a drink and a cigarette. My mother nods.

“Someone must have left the lamp on in Kris’s bedroom,” my mother says as they walk up the stairs. “The drapes caught on fire.”

I repeat these words in my head until I come to believe I set the fire myself. I can still picture my bedside lamp, the brass switch, the round orange globe always warm to the touch.

Years later--decades, in fact--my father laughs when I tell him this story. “You didn’t cause that fire, Kris,” he says. “Your mother and I did. We had been sitting and talking in the living room, having a drink together, and we left a burning cigarette in the ashtray. Neither of us noticed. The drapes in the living room caught fire first.” The flames never reached my room.

This is how I want to remember my parents: still talking to each other, even when the world was tumbling down around their ears.

We rent a basement apartment for a month and then move back to our rebuilt house. Nothing is ever said about the fire. Nothing is ever said about dark or sad or upsetting events, and anything that involves liquor is definitely not discussed. My parents are elegant drinkers. My mother can make a Manhattan with just the right splash of whiskey and vermouth. My father takes his bourbon straight on ice. After dinner, once my mother has tucked us into bed, my parents make cocktails and play cribbage to determine who has to do the dishes. From my bedroom I can hear my mother’s soft laugh. Sometimes there’s a stack of unwashed plates in the sink when we leave for school in the morning.

Soon another baby is born: my sister Karma. This is not a hippie name, despite the fact that we live close to Boulder. My mother insists on naming her daughters after her Norwegian heritage: Kristen, Karin, Karma.

At the top of the hill behind our house stands the Arvada cemetery. The year 1863 is etched in a stone marker at the entrance. The cemetery works like a magnet. As soon as our mother puts us out into the yard for the afternoon--just like the kids and grandkids on the family farm back in Iowa, who were expected to fend for themselves for the day--Karin and I scramble over the fence and head for the hill. We are our own secret club, and Karma joins us as soon as she is old enough to toddle along. Sometimes the other neighbor girls--Paula, Susie, and Kathy--are allowed into the club as temporary members. We trek across the field behind the row of backyards and through the old apple orchard and get up to the creek, where we balance a flat plank across the shallow, sluggish water and tiptoe across. Water spiders dance across the surface and tiny minnows scatter when we push our toes into the muddy bottom.

At the crest of the hill stand row after row of headstones. Some are tall, others flat against the ground. Some have the names of children or images of their faces etched in the stone, and we stay away from those. We run up and down the rows, shrieking and gathering up the plastic flowers. We pile all our flowers in the middle and sit in a circle around them. We look down the hill to our house and imagine our mother, big and round, lying on her bed and waiting for the next baby, a boy at last, she’s sure of it. A little farther, we can see the Arvada Villa Pizza Parlor and the Arvada Beauty Academy. Between our neighborhood and the long dark line of mountains stands a single white water tower, all by itself. The Rocky Flats water tower. There is a hidden factory there.

That hidden factory is the Rocky Flats Nuclear Weapons Plant, a foundry that smelts plutonium, purifies it, and shapes it into plutonium “triggers” for nuclear bombs. The plant also recycles fissionable material from outmoded bombs. A largely blue-collar link in the U.S. government’s nuclear bomb network, Rocky Flats is the only plant in the country that produces these triggers--small, spherical explosives that provide an atomic bomb’s chain reaction. The triggers form the heart of every nuclear weapon made in America. From 1952 to 1989, Rocky Flats manufactures more than seventy thousand plutonium triggers, at a cost of nearly $4 million apiece. Each one contains enough breathable particles of plutonium to kill every person on earth.

Rocky Flats’ largest output, however, is radioactive and toxic waste. In all the decades of nuclear weapons production, the nuclear weapons industry produces waste with too little thought to the future or the environment. The creation of each gram of plutonium produces radioactive waste, virtually all of which remains with us to the present day.

But no one in our community knows what goes on at Rocky Flats. This is a secret operation, not subject to any laws of the state.

The wind blows, as it always does. I imagine the bones of pioneers and cowboys beneath our feet. The chill of evening begins to creep up the hill; the air turns cold when the sun dips.

“Let’s go!” Karin yells, and we jump to our feet and roll and tumble down the hill. We bounce across the plank and race across the field, full speed, before the sun sets and the ghosts come out.

In the beginning, Rocky Flats is called Project Apple. In 1951, years before I’m born, a group of men from the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) meet in an old hotel off the beaten track in Denver. No press, no publicity. Their job is to find a site to build a secret bomb factory that will carry out the work that first began with the Manhattan Project, the covert military endeavor that developed the first atomic bomb during World War II.

Until now, all nuclear bombs in the United States have been custom-built at the weapons research and design laboratory at Los Alamos, New Mexico, with materials supplied from the plutonium production facility at the Hanford site in eastern Washington State and the uranium enrichment facility at Oak Ridge, Tennessee. But with the heightening Cold War--a high state of military tension and political conflict with the Soviet Union and its allies that will continue for decades--the United States wants to mass-produce nuclear weapons. They need a roll-up-your-sleeves, get-down-to-business, high-production bomb factory. An assembly line.

AEC officials choose a site on a high, windy plateau not far from the growing cities of Arvada, Boulder, and Denver--cities that can provide workers and housing. Landowners are forced to sell their land to the government, and construction on Project Apple begins immediately.

A few months later, the Denver Post breaks the news of the new plant with the headline there is good news today: AEC to Build $45 Million A-plant Near Denver. Announcement of the plant catches everyone by surprise, including state and city officials, and the news breaks like a thunderbolt over the community. Though owned by the AEC, the plant will be operated by Dow Chemical, a private contractor that will be indemnified against any accident or mishap. The Rocky Flats Nuclear Weapons Plant will become the workhorse of an AEC complex of weapons facilities that eventually spans thirteen states, from Nevada to Kansas to South Carolina. Each AEC facility will be involved in its own particular aspect of the design, manufacture, testing, and maintenance of weapons for the U.S. nuclear arsenal.

Components and processes will be divided up around the country, but Rocky Flats will be the only site designed to produce the fissionable plutonium “pits” at the core of nuclear bombs. The whole system depends upon Rocky Flats.

Construction of the plant is rushed.

Few people know the deal is in the works. Not even the governor has an inkling. Colorado’s top elected officials are not informed that the plant will be built until after the decision is made and there’s no going back. But Denver welcomes the windfall. No one knows what the factory will produce. No one cares. It means jobs. It means housing. Contractors, the local power plant, and local businesses all look forward to the “juicy plum” to be known from now on as Rocky Flats.

It’s the Cold War. The bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 may have ended one war, but they started another. The perceived Soviet threat is an ever-present shadow in American life. The Atomic Energy Act of 1946 creates an impenetrable wall of secrecy around the U.S. nuclear establishment. All government decisions and activities related to the production of nuclear weapons will be completely hidden. Information about nuclear bombs, toxic and radioactive waste, environmental contamination, and known and unknown health risks to workers and local residents is all strictly classified.

And no one asks questions.

An editorial in the Denver Post predicts that Rocky Flats will be “a source of satisfaction to all residents who have an abiding faith in Colorado’s destiny and future greatness.” The newspaper reports that workers on the project will be safer than “downtown office workers who have to cross busy streets on their way to lunch.”

The announcement is made simultaneously in Denver, Los Alamos, and Washington, D.C. The plant site in Jefferson County has been chosen for “operational values,” including the fact that the land is nothing but an old rocky cow pasture, “virtual waste land.” Officials from the AEC emphasize that no atom bombs or weapons will be built at Rocky Flats, only some unspecified component parts. The plant will not give off “dangerous wastes” or use large quantities of water, gas, and electricity. When questioned further by reporters, AEC spokesman Dick Elliott states adamantly, “Atomic bombs will not be built at this plant.”

One small but devastating error escapes notice. The site criteria specifically state that the wind passing over the plant should not blow toward a major population center. But there is a mistake in the engineering report. Engineers base their analysis on wind patterns at Stapleton Airport, on the other side of Denver, where winds come from the south. Rocky Flats is well known for extreme weather conditions--rain, sleet, snow, and especially the prevailing winds, including chinooks that travel down the eastern slope of the Rockies from the west and northwest, directly over Rocky Flats and straight toward Arvada, Westminster, Broomfield, and Denver. Called “snow eaters,” chinook winds occur when the jet stream dips down and hits the fourteeners--the 14,000-foot mountains west of Denver--where they lose their moisture. The winds warm as they race down the lee side of the mountain range, and by the time they reach flat land, they’re hot and often exceed 100 miles per hour. Snow melts overnight. Sometimes chinooks snap telephone poles, blow out windshields, and overturn vehicles in the area around Rocky Flats.

One employee who notices the error is Jim Stone. An engineer hired to help design Rocky Flats before it opens, Stone is a careful and thorough man. Born during the Depression, he was sent to a Catholic orphanage when his parents couldn’t afford to raise him. His path to becoming an engineer has been hard won, and he brings years of experience to his job at Rocky Flats. He warns against the location of the plant “because Denver is downwind a few miles away.” He is ignored.

The name Rocky Flats is taken from the dry, rolling land dotted with sage and pine trees, a name chosen by early homesteaders who raised cattle and hay. Now it will no longer be ranchland. The money is in housing. Jefferson County and the entire Denver area are booming. Just over half a million in 1950, by 1969 the population of the Denver metro area has more than doubled. Jefferson and Boulder counties are two of the fastest-growing counties in the entire country. Thomas Mills, the mayor of Arvada, worries about housing. Rocky Flats plans to hire at least a thousand permanent workers immediately, and unlike in other nuclear towns, such as Los Alamos, workers will not be housed on-site. “The housing situation is rough here. We’ll receive the brunt of all that traffic to the plant because we’re on the only direct route to it,” Mills says. “The city is comprised mostly of small homes. There really is only one large apartment house. . . . It’s going to cause us lots of headaches.” By the first week of March 1951, extensive new home construction has begun.

The plant is surrounded by two tiers of barbed-wire fence stretching ten miles around the circumference of the core area. The first tier, three feet high, is to keep cattle out. The second tier, nine feet high, is electrified and patrolled by guards with guns, high-powered binoculars, and, eventually, tanks. With the exception of a two-story administration building, the plant’s buildings are built low to the ground, in ravines cut deep into the soil. The factory is almost completely invisible from the road. By early 1952, things are in full production. By 1957, nearly 1,600 people work at Rocky Flats. Radioactive and toxic waste have to be dealt with from the beginning. Effluence is run through a regular sewage disposal plant and empties into nearby Woman Creek. Solid and liquid waste is packed into fifty-five-gallon drums. Much of what remains is incinerated. What spews from the smokestacks of the production buildings is expected to disperse by the time it reaches the outer limits of the plant boundary.

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What People are saying about this

From the Publisher
"Full Body Burden is one of the most important stories of the nuclear era—as personal and powerful as "Silkwood," told with the suspense and narrative drive of The Hot Zone. With unflinching honesty, Kristen Iverson has written an intimate and deeply human memoir that shows why we should all be concerned about nuclear safety, and the dangers of ignoring science in the name of national security. Rocky Flats needs to be part of the same nuclear discussion as Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and Fukushima. So does Full Body Burden. It's an essential and unforgettable book that should be talked about in schools and book clubs, online and in the White House."
Rebecca Skloot, author of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
"What a surprise! You don't expect such (unobtrusively) beautiful writing in a book about nuclear weapons, nor such captivating storytelling. Plus the facts are solid and the science told in colloquial but never dumbed-down terms. If I could afford them, I'd want the movie rights. Having read scores of nuclear books, I venture a large claim: Kristin Iversen's Full Body Burden may be a classic of nuclear literature, filling a gap we didn't know existed among Hersey's Hiroshima, Burdick and Wheeler's Fail-Safe and Kohn's Who Killed Karen Silkwood?"
Mark Hertsgaard, author of Nuclear Inc. and HOT

"This terrifyingly brilliant book—as perfectly crafted and meticulously assembled as the nuclear bomb triggers that lie at its core—is a savage indictment of the American strategic weapons industry, both haunting in its power, and yet wonderfully, charmingly human as a memoir of growing up in the Atomic Age."
Simon Winchester, author of The Professor and the Madman and Atlantic

"Why didn't Poe or Hitchcock think of this? Full Body Burden has all the elements of a classic horror tale: the charming nuclear family cruising innocently above the undercurrents of nuclear nightmare. But it's true and all the more chilling. Kristen Iversen has lived this life and is an authority on the culture of secrecy that has prevented the nation from knowing the truth about radioactive contamination. This is a gripping and scary story."
Bobbie Ann Mason, author of Shiloh and Other Stories and In Country 

"Kristen Iversen has written a hauntingly beautiful memoir that is also a devastating investigation into the human costs of building and living with the atomic bomb. Poignant and gracefully written, Iversen shows us what it meant to come of age next door to Rocky Flats—America’s plutonium bomb factory. The story is at once terrifying and outrageous."
Kai Bird, co-author of American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer

"The fight over Rocky Flats was and is a paradigmatic American battle, of corporate and government power set against the bravery and anger of normal people. This is a powerful and beautiful account, of great use to all of us who will fight the battles that lie ahead."
Bill McKibben, author of The End of Nature and Eaarth

"Part memoir, part investigative journalism, Full Body Burden is a tale that will haunt your dreams. It's a story of secrecy, deceit, and betrayal set in the majestic high plains of Colorado. Kristen Iversen takes us behind her family's closed doors and beyond the security fences and the armed guards at Rocky Flats. She's as honest and restrained in her portrait of a family in crisis as she is in documenting the incomprehensible betrayal of citizens by their government, in exposing the harrowing disregard for public safety exhibited by the technocrats in charge of a top-secret nuclear weapons facility. For decades the question asked by residents living downwind of the plant was 'Would my government deliberately put my life and the lives of my children in danger?' The simple and irrefutable answer was 'Yes, it would . . . in a Colorado minute.'"
John Dufresne, author of Louisiana Power & Light and Love Warps the Mind a Little
“This is a subject as grippingly immediate as today's headlines: While there is alarm about the small rise in radioactivity in the food chain, one reads in these pages about how a whole region lived in the steady contaminating effects of nuclear radiation. Kristen Iversen's prose is clean and clear and lovely, and her story is deeply involving and full of insight and knowledge; it begins in innocence, and moves through catastrophes; it is unflinching and brave, an expose about ignorance and denial and the cost of government excess, and an intensely personal portrait of a family. It ought to be required reading for every single legislator in this country.”
Richard Bausch, author of Peace and Something Is Out There

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Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 20 reviews.
knittingnancy More than 1 year ago
The author, winding stands of her personal life with the shocking facts relating to the discovery of plutonium contamination of hundreds of acres of land surrounding a plant manufacturing triggers used in atomic bombs, manages to humanize and amplify the horror those citizens of Colorado affected by radiation exposure lived through. My sister-in-law lived a mere 125 miles away from this area and the more I read, the more convinced I am that her death at 42 of advanced melanoma was caused by contact with the contaminates blithley released into the atmosphere from this plant. She recounts the tales of many workers who were repeatedly exposed to deadly poisons in the workplace that were never informed of the risks. Many died horrible deaths from visible tumors, suffered from blood ailments, chromosone damage and cancer, and were left unprotected by the law in the name of National Security. The subject has even more weight today, given the politics of our economy...some people would like to destroy the EPA, eliminating restrictions protecting our air, water and soil that were won by hard battles against the interests of big business. The pressure exerted on the public to cave in to business practices that are basically against the best interest of the humans living on this planed only increase. The author's device of blending hard facts and genuine human tragedies as she tracks the protests, legal machinations and reactions of the community keep this true to life drama spellbinding. I great read!!!
Andrew_in_Maplewood More than 1 year ago
The gripping and outrageous history of the Rocky Flats plutonium bomb plant is intertwined with the author's personal narrative of growing-up in a beautiful landscape with deadly, but hidden contamination from the plant. I bought the book after hearing the author interviewed on NPR, thinking it would be a straight-on expose of Rocky Flats, the details of which had not been familiar to me. But this is not that kind of book. Personal-narrative elements dominate the first half of the book and set the stage and give way to an examination of the problems caused by the Rocky Flats facility, and include compelling descriptions of terrifying accidents at the plant. The problems at and around Rocky Flats are viewed through the eyes of people who worked in the plant and lived nearby, as well as their families. The author's loss of innocence, as she comes to understand the harm caused by her father's drinking problems, reflects a general loss of innocence as hard-working patriotic Colorado residents slowly come to realize the extent of the harm that has been imposed, and that the few scientists that had been willing to to tell the truth despite vociferous denials from government officials and industry shills. Overall: the book was a very enjoyable read and told a story so compelling that I had a hard time putting it down. Well done, Kristen Iversen!
MMMCT More than 1 year ago
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and liked the way Kristen Iversen presented her life coinciding with the development of Rocky Flats. I found myself so caught up in the lives of her family and friends, that I wanted to jump in and save everyone! I hope that we have learned important life, and survival lessons, time will tell. Thank you Kristen.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a frightening and compelling story for the millenial generation. A story of rural tranquilty and beauty, playing as children, playing in the invisible grains of "astronomical amounts" of weapons grade plutonium. It is a tale of innocence lost by by both the author and the people of colorado. I can and will atest, the government has downplayed the facility to the utmost. I grew up and reside a mere 2 miles from the author, only 9 miles or so SW of the now barren ghostscape of rocky flats. Everyone jokes about it here, but this story is a shocker to anyone and should be read by coloradans and all americans near such a disaster. I couldnt put it down, and now that I have I am furious with the negligence of those responsible. Hats off Kristen, you just made it hard to sleep at night, but sometimes the truth does that.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I finished this book in two days. It was impossible to put down. I lived in Denver for almost 25 years and wasn't fully aware of what all happened at Rocky Flats. This was an amazing work of personal narrative interspersed with brilliant investigative reporting. Well done, Kristen Iversen.
SharynR More than 1 year ago
A great read! Everyone needs to be informed about what is going on in this country.
pepedpu More than 1 year ago
Overall this book was good. The writer tried to frame her story with her personal history with Rocky Flats. Being from this area, I could remember some of the stories I had heard about the plant. In my opinion, the writer started rambling more about her personal life than the Rocky Flats facts. I would recommend this book for 3 stars.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very well written account of what everyone should know about a disturbing part of our nation's history.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I thought this book was very written.  I didn't think I would have this much interest in the subject ,,but it was written so well.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Outstanding read,  both engaging and factual.   Kudos on superb storytelling and documentation. 
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book really makes you wonder about what the government is really doing. Book is very hard to put down
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I was required to read this book. I am not a big into reading and this book did not help the issue in my opinion It was all over the place and confusing in my opinion. The underlying issue was very interesting and I would have  rather watched a documentary on this than read it.
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I also grew up near Rocky Flats. I think this is an important book. It maybe helps me understand why I've been so ill most of my life. I've been diagnosed with 4 different immune diseases. I really believe Rocky Flats is a contributing factor. I hope people who lived in the area will read this. It's an intresting read for anyone.
griss21 More than 1 year ago
Living in Arvada since the fall of 2000, I’ve never seen it as much more than a place to have a childhood. There has been a fair share of changes since I made my move here, lots of new houses and shopping centers. But one change I never paid much attention to was the fact that a road off Indiana has disappeared, and little did I know when I was little that the road that disappeared lead to the one and only Rocky Flats, being the abandoned factory that created plutonium triggers for nuclear bombs in the midst of the Cold War. Full Body Burden reveals not only the secrets of Rocky Flats but also the complications of family. Iversen goes back and forth throughout the book explaining what was happening throughout Rocky Flats as well as her personal family life. She reveals many secrets kept throughout the factories life including the fact that the highest plutonium deposits in soil were measured here in Arvada, and it was ahead of Nagasaki. Rocky Flats began as Iversen’ life was beginning too, and as the factory grew more complicated so did her life. Her father struggled with alcoholism and her mother with pills. While both situations are world apart, both are similar because everyone refused to discuss both situations. Full Body Burden hit a little close to home, literally. Two fires occurred while the factory was in use. The ashes from this fire spread all around the metro area which is the cause of the high plutonium deposits in the soil, and is also the reason you aren’t supposed to touch the bottom in Standley Lake. The Indiana traffic has since been replaced by Ralston Valley traffic and the area where the factory used to be is now being taken over by homes. This book was very informant about what we are truly living in. Iversen also makes good connections with the average teenager. Discovering the truth about family and learning to cope with these discoveries, also the cancer that occurred later on throughout the book. Many people in Arvada are affected by family issues and divorce; actually I’m not sure if anyone isn’t now. But many people in Arvada are affected by cancer as well, so Iversen is very relatable. While the book was very informant, it was also a good read. Iversen never had a dry moment, with the uncovering of government secrets modern and from the Cold War there was always something interesting. The book also draws connections to other cities across the country affected by the need to mass produce nuclear bombs during the Cold War. A very interesting read from a truly brave woman, much praise to Kristen Iversen and Full Body Burden.