65 Years

When I meet WWII veterans, I always say, "My father was at Pearl Harbor when it was bombed." When I was young, I didn't really understand the connotations of that. I knew it gave me a symbolance of commonality with someone around 50 years my senior. As I got older, and started to learn about the general brutality of the world around me, I thought I understood a little more. The heart wrenching fear of an unexpected attack. With life experiences, my knowledge grew. I learned about war, and death, and violence. On Sept 11, 2001, it was opened up to me how little I really understood, regardless how much I knew. 65 years ago this morning, My father awoke to an air-raid siren, and was shown how little he understood. My father spent his life trying to show his family what he learned, to prepare us for life. He never forgot what he learned that day. I'll try not to either.