My Grampa would always solemnly intone "A day that will live in infamy..." whenever we mentioned Pearl Harbor. When I was quite small, it seemed he was making up something wonderful for the occasion. After I had seen the clip of Roosevelt's speech, I "knew" the truth. Grampa never claimed the phrase. He was quoting the President, or even mimicking him. He was remembering. In the whirlwind of the ensuing war years, my father, and maybe even his entire generation, simply accepted the phrase as history, a part of the whole mess and glory that was World War II.
Grampa gave me something else. The shock and horror of the magnitude of the tragedy was made crystalline to me on September 11, 2001. Grampa had already gone to two wars, WWII was not to be his fight, except on the homefront. I was never even fit for the Peace Corps, but I adopted its philosophy on the homefront. And this also was through my Grampa's example. That's a whole other posting someday.
Funny how the anniversary of the Attack on Pearl Harbor makes me remember and appreciate anew my Grampa's contribution to the war effort. Because that contribution surely lives on in all his children and grandchildren. Those left behind do contribute: it is up to each to decide if that contribution is positive or negative. Even if we only welcome our returning soldiers and congratulate and thank them for their sacrifice.
pb
Little Pond
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