A Day that will live in Infamy...

Every year, when we remember the attack on Pearl Harbor, I get teary eyed thinking of the boys in 1941 seeing enemy planes attacking their boats. I wonder about their fear and the worry their families must have been facing.

I think, "how lucky am I to know someone who contributed to the freedom I have today!?!" My grandfather was a bomber pilot in the Pacific. I don't know how many missions he flew, I don't know what he saw. I know that he didn't talk much about war. But I saw it all come back as he looked through my textbook for my WW2 History class.

Most years, when I hear news reports about the Greatest Generation and their memories of the war, I long for the genuine care and concern they had for their fellow humans. My chin raises as I think how proud I am of my grandfather.

This year, as tears quietly fall, I simply miss my grandpa. Not grandpa the bomber pilot. Not Grandpa the Eagle Scout, not even grandpa the fisherman. I just miss Grandpa. I think I thought he was invincible. I took my time with him for granted. I just figued he'd always be there. Tonight, the harsh reality is that one of my heroes isn't here to say thank you to.

And far too often, we drive past a cemetary with a color guard and don't think about it as yet another family says goodbye to another of the Greatest Generation.

Maybe you'd like to visit the website of my grandfather's squadron: www.vmb-613.com and remember that the last phrase of the Marine hymn is this:
If the Army and the Navy ever look on Heaven's scenes
They'll find the streets are guarded by United States Marines.

Semper Fidelis