Dad used to talk about one of the days that seared itself into his memory. The Empire of Japan struck the naval base at Pearl Harbor on the 7th of December 1941, killing about 2,000 sailors and Marines, and throwing an enormous curve at the men and women who would have to live through 1942 and all the years after.

As I recall his recounting, Dad was on a train back to Jersey after a Giants game- he never was a Yankee guy and felt betrayed when they pulled out for the Left Coast. There are many disappointments in life, but that, in addition to the Empire of th Sun, is one that stuck with him all his remaining days..

I don’t know how the word passed on the train- a look out the window at the crawling visual display outside the buildings on Times Square? but what is certain is that everyone knew, immediate and live, that the world had shifted on its axis and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

I always envied the certainty of his recollection. Dad fought like hell to become a Navy pilot, a notion that would have been inconceivable in the fifth inning of a baseball game just an hour or so before.

The announcement of John Kennedy’s murder on the middle-school public address system was a shocker, though perhaps not as momentous as the attack on Pearl. But that killing led to others- Dr. King, RFK and George Wallace- that were profound, but not clarion calls to anything except opposing political murder. I am up for that most mornings.

Not like that morning eighteen years ago. I have described it before and will spare you the moment-by-moment reconstructions playing out in my brain and on the media this morning. That morning, long ago, I sent the contractors home with the first word of the second attack on the Trade Center with the admonition to take care of their people. Then I went to war.

Maybe the highlight was figuring it out on the fly, and some fifteen hours later, I poured a stiff vodka at the Fort McNair visiting officers quarters and watched the Army kids running around at the Fort, and the flames burning orange at the Pentagon across the river. Weird.

I have only done the war-thing a few times, but they are all memorable in their way. Life goes on, as the renowned poet said. And like her, I am getting to the age that I forget just why.

Enjoy this nice day. In The Swamp? Having a wonderful time. Wonderful morning in the country, just like it was 18 years ago. Wish you were here.

Copyright 2019 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com