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This is the 79th anniversary of Pearl Harbor Day, the day which will live in infamy, the day which propelled the United States into World War II.
I feel like crying thinking of that horrible attack. But then thinking of how America rallied and fought for right makes me proud to be an American.
Both my grandfathers fought in the war, and one grandmother was a WAC.
I heard stories growing up of how Grandpa Slack's mother made 6 eggs at a time for him when he came back.
She also had saved some pineapple for him, knowing how much he loved that treat. Well, guess where he was stationed? The Philippines. He was sick of pineapple by the time he got back to his mother.
The only time I ever saw my grandpa cry was when his mother died. I was about 12 years old at the time, and all I could do was sit in silence with him at the funeral home and let him have a cry.
At that point, Grandpa had some difficulties that made communication challenging. I remember so many times just sitting with him, listening to his stories, learning from him how some mechanical thingy worked, hearing his ideas for things to make or build, sometimes having to fill in the words that he was trying to say and couldn't.
He had a smile that carried on through to my dad. The same lines, the same chin, the same eyes.
Grandpa had the first computer I'd ever used. Mid 1980s. We printed out Happy Birthday banners on his printer--you remember the type that printed one skinny little strip at a time, then backed up, advanced a bit, and printed another skinny little strip. It took awhile to get an entire banner printed, but it was a piece of art to us.
Grandpa and Grandma took me to a HAM Fest when I was too naïve to realize it meant radios and not anything to do with ham and bacon. Anyone that loves ham and bacon can just imagine my disappointment.
Grandpa Slack died just a couple weeks after my 15th birthday. The moment I heard the news is forever etched in my memory.
His death was the first in my life that affected me personally. I cried for weeks, months even, after that, and I get teary-eyed whenever I think of him now--or my other grandparents who have died.
I'm empty of words. I've sat here for awhile just thinking of Grandpa, reminiscing, staring at our Christmas tree. I will just enjoy my own quiet thoughts of him now.
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