What This Day Means to Me

I was born in 1940, about seven months before Pearl. I remember my Mom doing a Victory Garden, making me save the aluminum wrapping from chewing gum, and rolling up string into big balls. We also had these little stamps for gas and things. I even remember the unforgettable rumble of B-17's leaving for England (we lived in Massachusetts) by way of Newfoundland and Greenland. It's hard to describe a sound 60+ years later but if you've ever heard a squeaky screen door you know what I mean.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to be part of the 1950's and to remember Mel's Drive-In, the skating waitresses, and yes, the '57 Thunderbird. The war in Korea had ended by the time I graduated from high school in 1958 and I blissfully went straight into college, got married, and had three kids with my then pony-tailed wife.

So I was exempt from Vietnam, too.

And now, all these free years later, I wonder how lucky I am that I was not watching flak over Germany or starving and freezing in Korea. I'm even feeling a little guilty that the numbers came up as they did. I'm an armchair WW II buff you see, and knowing now what nineteen year-olds went through so that I could go to college and marry and raise a family in a safe and comfortable country well, it makes me real respectful.

I'm not sure my own kids know what this is all about, either. They are all too old (oh, boy) or married, etc. to be called to Iraq so how can I tell them now neat it is what we've got?

So I'm going out Monday and plant a flag where a B-24 went down here so needlessly in a training accident just because.