Fittingly, it was a cloudy, foggy day when I visited Pearl Harbor with my cousin’s family, December 9, 2010. I’m sharing a few pix, including pix of the USS Missouri (Mighty Mo) the ship that hosted the signing of Japan’s unconditional surrender. It is appropriately on display in this hallowed harbor. That trip was also solace in my own journey, coming less than a year from my own personal day of infamy, losing my wife Dana to cancer that previous December.
My visit that year came just two days after December 7. Wreaths were still in place from memorial ceremonies, creating a sense of recent proximity to that tragic day. Those wreaths also pointed out an interesting juxtaposition with other wreaths we saw as we drove to Pearl Harbor: wreaths of green pine needles and red velvet bows hanging on doors to celebrate Christmas. (As a side note, I had intentionally planned a December visit to help burn through the Christmas season in a tropical climate. You just can’t take Christmas seriously with 80-degree weather and palm trees. It certainly lessened the nostalgic pain.) But today I think of the nearly 3,000 families that December in 1941 who were decorating their Christmas trees, stringing their lights, hanging their wreaths, when they received a call, or a telegram, or a visit by military personnel. The month of December would never be the same.
Because Christmas is full of special memories and deep nostalgia, it can also be a season of hurt for those who’ve recently suffered loss. Maybe today as you remember our national tragedy of December 7, you might also breathe a prayer for those in your circles of friends and family who’ve experienced personal loss.
By way of update and to complete the circle, I am now married to wonderful Jessica and we are enjoying the Christmas season through the eyes of our 2-year-old Reade and 1-year-old Rachel. We are, you might say, creating special memories that will add to deep nostalgia.