December 7th!

As I recall it was a sunny Sunday afternoon in Salt Lake City.  We lived close to downtown and my sister and I were downtown doing something (don’t remember what).  At some point we became aware that bad things were happening and we ran home to tell our parents.

They had already heard about the ‘Japs’ attacking Pearl Harbor and were huddled around the radio (where we would stay for the rest of the day) listening for news.  At 8 years old I was old enough to know that our lives would be different from this day forward and young enough not to fully realize the implications for every American.

My father was angry about what had happened.  My mother was frightened.  I was excited and thrilled to be in the middle of an historic event.  My desire for more details was insatiable – and would remain so for the next four years.  I wondered what there would be to talk about when the war was finally over. 

I would learn that there is always plenty to talk about – unfortunately not all good.  But that “date that would live in infamy” as Roosevelt told us the next day, is a lasting childhood memory that has never faded.  Remember Pearl Harbor!