I called my sister this morning to wish her a Happy Pearl Harbor Day. This day was always important when we were growing up. My father had lied about his age in order to join the Army Air Corp right after graduating from High School in 11th grade. He met my mother and was stationed at Spartan School of Aeronautics when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. He wasn’t in Tulsa for long after that. My mother was a girl…well they were both kids.
Every December 7th they would say something…tell us something about “the day that lives in Infamy”….it put us into WWII…launched us into the Pacific Theater and the European Theater. It changed so many lives, and changed our country.
My father was away for four years and wrote to my mother often; luckily we have those letters.
I don’t know that young people today really understand what an impact December 7th had on their lives. Growing up with parent’s that remembered…parent’s that made sure we went as a family to Pearl Harbor, out to the USS Arizona….taught us appreciation and respect.
We understood the sacrifices all of our family made during that time….the loss of a dear cousin, the rationing, the work ethic.
The boy on the right in the picture above is my father….on some Pacific Island. Look at him, he’s a kid….albeit a big kid. He’s there fighting…shaping his entire life. I wonder if any of us can look at one picture and say that.