Day of Remembrance

This morning I drove my school bus to pick up my elementary students. I pulled up in front of Kassie and Steven at their stop and as they climbed on the bus they both smiled and said, “Happy Nine Eleven.” Their little brother who was standing next to Mom blurted out, “Happy Birthday!”

I was born on December 9, 1948, seven years and two days following the attack on Pearl Harbor. My mother used to tell me that I was born two days after Pearl Harbor Day and I always looked at that as a great privilege, even though I didn't understand what Pearl Harbor Day was for several years. Along the way I gathered little bits of information about the attack and began to form a picture in my mind about what it really meant, but it wasn't until August of 2006 that the picture came with real clarity into my heart and mind. That August Candace and I went to Hawaii to photograph a wedding on the north end of Oahu. We took a few days to enjoy the island and to see the sights and the most profound experience that I had that August was our visit to the Pearl Harbor Memorial. We watched films of the attack in horror as the great American naval fleet was sunk by Japanese bombers on what had begun as a quiet Sunday morning in 1941.

Kassie and Steven aren't old enough to comprehend what was going on eight years ago when four jet airplanes were hijacked by murderers and used to target buildings, killing nearly 3,000 Americans who were quietly beginning their day. Kassie and Steven will gather bits and pieces of information over the next few years until they begin to understand what happened that morning. Until they come to that understanding, though, I'm grateful for their innocence and their youthful joy at a National Day of Remembrance. I have a hard time feeling their joy because, like most of my fellow Americans, I still remember where I was on that morning and what I was doing when Candace told me to come and look at the TV and what I felt as we both watched, still not yet fully comprehending, as the second airplane crashed into the World Trade Center. The realization crashed like a bolt of lightning that comes with the immediate explosion of thunder and we understood that the country had changed and that it would never be the same place again.

In February of 2002 I had an opportunity to talk with Senator Orin Hatch and I begged him, “Please tell the President that there's an old Marine who's ready to do what needs to be done.” Senator Hatch pooh-poohed my plea with, “War is a young man's game. Let's hope that you don't need to go.” Now, as a 60-year-old and having returned from Iraq and having served our country's real heroes for two years I just say to Senator Hatch, “You don't know what you're talking about. War is everyone's game and even old men can make a valuable contribution.”

The innocence of Kassie and Steven is different than the innocence that my generation had. They can't experience what we did because parents hold their children a little closer now in a world that seems just a little bit darker—a little bit more sinister. I still have hope, though, that we can get some of that old America back, but we'll all have to come together as Americans and take a hard look at just how much we've lost—and just how much we've gained.