It's almost exactly to the minute now as I finish up this post that the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Although it seems so far away both in space and in time, Pearl Harbor will always mean something more to me because it has been made real, even more so given that it's Sunday morning just before 8AM, and if I'd been there that day, this is when I would have seen the world forever changed.
My family has had much cause to cross paths with the strips of sand and soil on which this battle was protracted. We met my father there when he finished his tour of duty in Korea. I stayed in the bellows barracks, not far from where the submarines surfaced just prior to the attack. We saw the gun emplacements. My grandfather served a mission there at the end of the war. I've been at the memorial and looked down onto that massive rusting hulk that was once the USS Arizona and wondered about the men whose bodies may still be trapped inside.
People, like Lincoln said at Gettysburg, little note or long remember things like this. I thank God that he gave me parents who made this type of experience real for me- who took me to Gettysburg and Williamsburg, Yellowstone and Hanauma Bay, The Golden Spike and Hoover Dam. History has been made real to me.
My best friend paid me interesting tribute as regards my opinion of Americana. When I asked him if he thought it was weird that I bedeck my room with patriotic symbols and the like, especially since they made such a big deal about the fact that Obama veritably refused to, he flatly denied it. With me, he said, he knew it was real. I really love my country. When I hear fighter jets course overhead from Nellis AFB, others complain that they suddenly can't hear each other speak. For me, it's the sound of freedom. On election day, I met a man who was 18 and stormed Omaha beach in the 3rd wave on June 4th, 1944. When I thanked him for his service and sacrifice, he cried. So did I.
Whatever else you may think of America, remember that she is comprised of people- good and bad- whose decisions amalgamate into her personae. I know a few bad Americans, but by and large, they are people who honestly act in ways they truly think will better their lives and the lives of their posterity. Before you launch an attack of your own on her, look into your own soul and ask if there's a hero waiting inside of you. Each of the men at Pearl Harbor that morning had to ask that. Hundreds died valiantly trying to fight back at an unexpected and unprovoked attack. None of them had ever done anything to the Japanese, and fewer still even knew where exactly Japan was.
On this historic and infamous Sunday, I thank God to be an American. I have lived overseas for four years of my life. I thought it ironic that when I returned from Europe I flew on Austrian Airlines to Chicago and then on American Airlines from there home. It was so good to be home.
My family has had much cause to cross paths with the strips of sand and soil on which this battle was protracted. We met my father there when he finished his tour of duty in Korea. I stayed in the bellows barracks, not far from where the submarines surfaced just prior to the attack. We saw the gun emplacements. My grandfather served a mission there at the end of the war. I've been at the memorial and looked down onto that massive rusting hulk that was once the USS Arizona and wondered about the men whose bodies may still be trapped inside.
People, like Lincoln said at Gettysburg, little note or long remember things like this. I thank God that he gave me parents who made this type of experience real for me- who took me to Gettysburg and Williamsburg, Yellowstone and Hanauma Bay, The Golden Spike and Hoover Dam. History has been made real to me.
My best friend paid me interesting tribute as regards my opinion of Americana. When I asked him if he thought it was weird that I bedeck my room with patriotic symbols and the like, especially since they made such a big deal about the fact that Obama veritably refused to, he flatly denied it. With me, he said, he knew it was real. I really love my country. When I hear fighter jets course overhead from Nellis AFB, others complain that they suddenly can't hear each other speak. For me, it's the sound of freedom. On election day, I met a man who was 18 and stormed Omaha beach in the 3rd wave on June 4th, 1944. When I thanked him for his service and sacrifice, he cried. So did I.
Whatever else you may think of America, remember that she is comprised of people- good and bad- whose decisions amalgamate into her personae. I know a few bad Americans, but by and large, they are people who honestly act in ways they truly think will better their lives and the lives of their posterity. Before you launch an attack of your own on her, look into your own soul and ask if there's a hero waiting inside of you. Each of the men at Pearl Harbor that morning had to ask that. Hundreds died valiantly trying to fight back at an unexpected and unprovoked attack. None of them had ever done anything to the Japanese, and fewer still even knew where exactly Japan was.
Thus I consent sir, because I know no better and because I am not sure that it is not the best. --Benjamin Franklin
On this historic and infamous Sunday, I thank God to be an American. I have lived overseas for four years of my life. I thought it ironic that when I returned from Europe I flew on Austrian Airlines to Chicago and then on American Airlines from there home. It was so good to be home.
2 comments:
Where all have you lived overseas and how long in each place?
I spent two years in Great Britain when my father was stationed there with the USAF. I went to British school, which was a rather interesting experience and provided me with a unique accent and voice.
After high school, I spent 21 months living in Austria. Although I visited some surrounding countries and had an unrestricted EU travel Visa, I never actually lived in any of her neighbors.
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