Forever beyond their reach Sometimes it seems that the most terrible things that happen in the world happen to children. Wherever there is war, proverty, sickness or savagery it is children who pay the heaviest price. Around the world whole generations are growing up who have never known peace or security. They can talk knowledgeably about bombing raids and land mines, but they know nothing of books, games or pets. In his deeply moving book, "Children of War," Roger Rosenblatt tells of visiting a kibbutz in northern Israel in the company of a photography who tried to stage a picture pic-ture of children playing in the cab of an old truck. A 3-year-old selected to star in this photo sequence was told, "Play, play!" But the boy did not know how to play. The only game he knew was war. In the Middle East, in northern Ireland, Cambodia and Vietnam children are growing up in violence and hunger. In our own country there are millions of children who have never fallen asleep with a full stomach in a clean, safe bed. We live, to our shame, in an age that speaks of "throw-away children." One million young people under age 18 are reported missing every year. Some have been turned into the street by parents unable to cope with the stress of poverty, drugs and crime. Some are found murdered. Some simply vanish and the police, after a few years, mark their files "closed." "Home is the place where we create the future," anthropologist Margaret Mead once said. Consider today's home the place where tomorrow's statesmen and soldiers are now growing up and you will understand the cynics who say that with or without nuclear weapons, world peace will be forever beyond our reach. Writing about "Our Endangered Children," Vance Packard sees a bleak future. He believes that the last best hope of Earth lies with children who are growing up in neat suburban houses with front porches and backyards, with two parents in residence, with a disciplined school system and a home ethic that stresses honor and compassion. Packard recognizes, however, that this picture is valid for only a small minority of families. Half the children born today will grow up in single-parent households, his survey tells us. Only 5 percent will see their grandparents regularly. And one-third of the public schools these children attend will inflict in-flict permanent psychic damage. What can children do, trapped in a milieu that too often punishes when it should reward? How can we rear emotionally mature adults in a society that does not permit children to have a childhood? What children do, of course, is "adapt." It's the old law of the jungle brought down to the level of cottage and tenement. Adapt or perish. In the great cities of this land adaptation of ten means joining street gangs, escaping - with one's peers - into the twilight world of drugs and crime. Curiously, American youngsters too often lack the inner strength of the children Roger Rosenblatt encountered encoun-tered in countries that have been at war for years and years. In Cambodia the author met a 10-year-old boy who watched his mother slowly die of starvation. Neighbors carried her wasted form in their arms to a shallow grave. The boy went through the ritual of burning incense and imploring his dead parents to look after him. Would he now take revenge against the Kmer Rouge, the regime that had destroyed his parents? Yes, he said, but added, "To me, revenge means I must make the most of my life." Living among us today are perhaps 20 million children who can only be classed as poor and neglected. Odds are they will not make the most of their lives. Society must take responsibility for them. And why not? They live under un-der a government that expects to spend $1.77 trillion on armaments over the next four years, all at the expense of human decency. In the long view of history our priorities will be seen as not merely stupid, but obscene as well. What chance has a poor child in a world that cares so little for secure, loving homes and full stomachs? Copyright 1983 Harriet Van Home Distributed by Special Features Syndication Sales