Day of Infamy
This post will have nothing to do with cycling, and would not even have been posted had it not been for my friend Adam Housely sending an email about his latest FOX News story. Just a little while ago he sent a message to his friends, and I feel I must share it with you all. Adam is at Pearl Harbor for a remembrance of December 7, 1941.
Today marks the 65th anniversary of the Day of Infamy.
If you remember, Adam is who I visited this past summer and helped to bottle wine at his family's winery, Century Oak Winery. Adam has been a FOX News correspondent for several years, and you'll see him quite often on FOX reporting from the middle of a conflict or historic moment. His words below will paint an eloquent picture for you, and should encourage you to give thanks for our freedoms that all too often get taken for granted.
I searched around and found another interesting site that has a copy of FDR's "Day of Infamy" speech. It's the actual letter with revisions noted within, and you can listen to FDR's speech from that link as well.
From Adam Housley:
At the bottom of this e-mail is a link to the Fox story that includes my photos. Here is my blog from Pearl Harbors 65th...I will add more and also pics friday online at adamhousley.net
the fox news LINK to PICS:
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,234909,00.html
At attention they stood. The morning I am told was not much different than today. Puffy clouds provide dramatic breaks from the searing sun. The whites of the Navy faces, the tans and blues of the Marines, all saluting heroes who survived "A Day to Live in Infamy."
Every five years the surivors and their families make the pilgrimage. Events last nearly a week leading up to December 7th and on this morning the men who somehow survived the sinking of the Arizona have come to pay what is likely their last respects to these now tranquil and brilliant turquoise waters. As one survivor tells me, "I am getting too old, the trip from the mainland now physically too tough, I don't expect to come back."
There are 11 this time, members of a dying club.Glenn tells me the blast that destroyed the USS Arizona launched him into the water. He would surface for air in burning oil and then swim to the nearby Nevada which was trying to escape the Japanese attack.
Glenn would somehow get pulled on board, his arms and ears burned, he would man a fire hose and help keep the Nevada afloat. That battleship would later beach itself so as not to block the harbors entrance.
The stories are mesmerizing and I could stay here for days listening and imagining each and every one. As the men make their way around the memorial visitors center and prepare for the boat ride to the actual memorial itself, I walk into the little bookstore. Here a sight that would bring even the stonecold to tears.
A TV plays in a corner, a documentary of the attack and its pictures has drawn a vet and his daughter. As I catch a glimpse, I see the tears. They stream down his cheeks and his daughter pats his shoulder. I didn't have the heart to interrupt and I have no idea,no way to imagine his loss, his heartache 65 years after more than 2000 souls were lost here. Men, women,sailors, marines and civilians. Innocent all and forgotten none.
11:45 am Hawaii:
The first wave of survivors sit down in the theater for a short film recounting the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. As the film plays I can hear the quiet crying. Explosions rock the screen, black and white photos are at times a bit graphic and the film from both the American and Japanese reports at the time is remarkable.
Outside, people who have come to pay their respects treat the veterans like rock stars. The pose for pictures, ask for autograph's and in some cases stand atop planters to catch a glimpse of these men.
At one point I interview a veteran who corrects me ab it, he says this club founded on sorrow will not die.Children of survivors carry on the memories and a young girl chirps next to me, "So Will the grandchildren!"
12:10 pm Hawaii
We arrive at the memorial, built above the sunken USS Arizona. It has been 15 years since my parents brought me here and the images, the tingling I felt as a kid returns. We stand back and watch as the vets and their families peer over the rails, point to the places the escaped and the areas they were in some cases blown from. Tears are shed, stories told and through it all,those of us honored enough to stand back, are in awe.This is truly a historic moment, one that future generations will see in documentaries and read about in books.
12:24 pm Hawaii
The men and their families continue to reminisce, the wall of names has been read and names of friends still entombed in this ship have been pointed out. I glance back down the rectangular-shaped memorial and notice a woman.
She has stood from her wheelchair and the golden Hawaii sun shoots through the open roof, lighting her weathered, but welcoming face. Her gray hair appears a brilliant silver, it's as if her brother has shone alight from heaven on her face.
I can't ask her name. I can't spoil her moment. She holds a lei, slowly pulling each pink flower pedal and watching them gently land on the turquoise waters that provide a clear view of the rusted wreckage below.
I am told she has come here again to visit her brother. She has come to remember one of the more than1,000 that for 65 years have remained in a grave they never imagined. The sister finishes her tribute. The flower pedals sweeten the sight and she sits back in her chair to be wheeled back to the boat. I wonder if this will be her last trip here.
12:35 pm Hawaii
We are back on the boat head across the shallow harbor to the visitors center. Sons and daughters approach us and tell us the stories they've heard. One man says his father, now 87, didn't talk about Pearl Harbor, never spoke of the attack and the horror until he was 59 years old. Apparently one day he surprised them and opened up.
12:45pm Hawaii
We arrive back at the visitors center dock. Tourists have lined the path, digital camera's pointed and ready as we leave the boat. We say our goodbye's and look forward to seeing everyone at the 65th commemoration and as we walk ahead I look back to see heroes, in some cases defying age to walk up the ramp. Flashes bounce off the walls and light up faces. Waves are exchanged, people applaud and I feel lucky to be a witness.
Today marks the 65th anniversary of the Day of Infamy.
If you remember, Adam is who I visited this past summer and helped to bottle wine at his family's winery, Century Oak Winery. Adam has been a FOX News correspondent for several years, and you'll see him quite often on FOX reporting from the middle of a conflict or historic moment. His words below will paint an eloquent picture for you, and should encourage you to give thanks for our freedoms that all too often get taken for granted.
I searched around and found another interesting site that has a copy of FDR's "Day of Infamy" speech. It's the actual letter with revisions noted within, and you can listen to FDR's speech from that link as well.
From Adam Housley:
At the bottom of this e-mail is a link to the Fox story that includes my photos. Here is my blog from Pearl Harbors 65th...I will add more and also pics friday online at adamhousley.net
the fox news LINK to PICS:
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,234909,00.html
At attention they stood. The morning I am told was not much different than today. Puffy clouds provide dramatic breaks from the searing sun. The whites of the Navy faces, the tans and blues of the Marines, all saluting heroes who survived "A Day to Live in Infamy."
Every five years the surivors and their families make the pilgrimage. Events last nearly a week leading up to December 7th and on this morning the men who somehow survived the sinking of the Arizona have come to pay what is likely their last respects to these now tranquil and brilliant turquoise waters. As one survivor tells me, "I am getting too old, the trip from the mainland now physically too tough, I don't expect to come back."
There are 11 this time, members of a dying club.Glenn tells me the blast that destroyed the USS Arizona launched him into the water. He would surface for air in burning oil and then swim to the nearby Nevada which was trying to escape the Japanese attack.
Glenn would somehow get pulled on board, his arms and ears burned, he would man a fire hose and help keep the Nevada afloat. That battleship would later beach itself so as not to block the harbors entrance.
The stories are mesmerizing and I could stay here for days listening and imagining each and every one. As the men make their way around the memorial visitors center and prepare for the boat ride to the actual memorial itself, I walk into the little bookstore. Here a sight that would bring even the stonecold to tears.
A TV plays in a corner, a documentary of the attack and its pictures has drawn a vet and his daughter. As I catch a glimpse, I see the tears. They stream down his cheeks and his daughter pats his shoulder. I didn't have the heart to interrupt and I have no idea,no way to imagine his loss, his heartache 65 years after more than 2000 souls were lost here. Men, women,sailors, marines and civilians. Innocent all and forgotten none.
11:45 am Hawaii:
The first wave of survivors sit down in the theater for a short film recounting the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. As the film plays I can hear the quiet crying. Explosions rock the screen, black and white photos are at times a bit graphic and the film from both the American and Japanese reports at the time is remarkable.
Outside, people who have come to pay their respects treat the veterans like rock stars. The pose for pictures, ask for autograph's and in some cases stand atop planters to catch a glimpse of these men.
At one point I interview a veteran who corrects me ab it, he says this club founded on sorrow will not die.Children of survivors carry on the memories and a young girl chirps next to me, "So Will the grandchildren!"
12:10 pm Hawaii
We arrive at the memorial, built above the sunken USS Arizona. It has been 15 years since my parents brought me here and the images, the tingling I felt as a kid returns. We stand back and watch as the vets and their families peer over the rails, point to the places the escaped and the areas they were in some cases blown from. Tears are shed, stories told and through it all,those of us honored enough to stand back, are in awe.This is truly a historic moment, one that future generations will see in documentaries and read about in books.
12:24 pm Hawaii
The men and their families continue to reminisce, the wall of names has been read and names of friends still entombed in this ship have been pointed out. I glance back down the rectangular-shaped memorial and notice a woman.
She has stood from her wheelchair and the golden Hawaii sun shoots through the open roof, lighting her weathered, but welcoming face. Her gray hair appears a brilliant silver, it's as if her brother has shone alight from heaven on her face.
I can't ask her name. I can't spoil her moment. She holds a lei, slowly pulling each pink flower pedal and watching them gently land on the turquoise waters that provide a clear view of the rusted wreckage below.
I am told she has come here again to visit her brother. She has come to remember one of the more than1,000 that for 65 years have remained in a grave they never imagined. The sister finishes her tribute. The flower pedals sweeten the sight and she sits back in her chair to be wheeled back to the boat. I wonder if this will be her last trip here.
12:35 pm Hawaii
We are back on the boat head across the shallow harbor to the visitors center. Sons and daughters approach us and tell us the stories they've heard. One man says his father, now 87, didn't talk about Pearl Harbor, never spoke of the attack and the horror until he was 59 years old. Apparently one day he surprised them and opened up.
12:45pm Hawaii
We arrive back at the visitors center dock. Tourists have lined the path, digital camera's pointed and ready as we leave the boat. We say our goodbye's and look forward to seeing everyone at the 65th commemoration and as we walk ahead I look back to see heroes, in some cases defying age to walk up the ramp. Flashes bounce off the walls and light up faces. Waves are exchanged, people applaud and I feel lucky to be a witness.
posted by NashvilleCyclist.com at 12/07/2006 12:48:00 PM
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