Monday, December 7

December 7th 1941, that day, as President Roosevelt said, "...will live in infamy..." Goodness, I was 8 years old and was playing outside and I remember the snow was falling and the radio was always playing at 109 Liberty Street, and every house up the street always had theirs own, and I got cold and was coming in to stand before the fireplace to warm my butt and hands when the news broke and I remember Uncle Matt and Aunt Laura went outside on our big surround porch and sounded the news, doors opened and the neighbors shared this time in December. Some shouted, some cried, some made their children come in from playing in the snow. I suppose to keep us safe. Anyhow, I can remember Roosevelt's strong voice and his words as if it were yesterday. I was only 8 but I knew something dreadful had happened. Later that evening, Uncle Matt (who had taught school in his younger days) sat me in his lap in a big chair by our warm fire and gave me an easy geography lesson on where Pearl Harbor was and what, in his words, he thought had happened. As the fire began to die out that night, I lay beside Granny in her big feather bed and instead of stories of sugar plum fairies, Granny told me about what being in War meant. From that day on, I had a new word in my vocabulary, "WAR" and it has never ceased to be an active word to this day, 2009, some 68 years ago.

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