Remembering A Day Long Before My Time

Things happen in our lifetimes that we tend to remember.

Other things, however, happen perhaps long before we have, that have a ripple effect well into our lifetimes, if not beyond.

My parents were kids when an Earth-shaking event took place on a Pacific Island destined to become our 50th state.

The day was December 7.  The year was 1941.

When it was over, a nation divided over war and peace, isolation and engagement on the world stage, found itself united and committed.

Indeed, a sleeping giant was awakened and filled with a terrible resolve.

Four years of savagery followed. It was not pleasant or pretty on either side.

Before it was done, millions of soldiers, airmen, sailors and Marines on both sides died.

Millions more civilians too, as war no longer spared the innocent on the home front.

A war that began on a pleasant Sunday morning in Hawaii that turned savage, ended even more savagely with the advent of the atomic age.

In the years since, two seemingly irreconcilable enemies learned to be allies.  Places once devastated are rebuilt and thriving.

But we remember. It is best that we do.  For in remembering, perhaps we can avoid repeating the mistakes that brought on that savage, no-quarter conflict. 

For if a next time does come to pass -- as in a third fully global conflict -- with the weapons of today, there may be no more tomorrows.  Words of warning from General Douglas MacArthur could become prophetic when he stated in September 1945, "We've had our last chance."

So I remember here and now, December 7, 1941. And I remember the veterans, living and dead, who met the challenge in multiple theaters of war, and triumphed.  God bless 'em.

It's fitting that Taps end this post.