William Marvel: Transformations

Pearl Harbor was always “just yesterday” for my father. He might rise from the grave to chastise me if I were to let the 80th anniversary pass unmentioned, for that was a watershed day in his life and in his country’s history. His plan of returning to a quiet civilian life in South Conway after eight years at sea began dissolving into a naval career on Dec. 7, 1941, and he never really felt like a civilian again. The United States, which went to sleep on December 6 as a young and brawny but stubbornly reclusive power on the world stage, emerged from the consequences of that Sunday as the dominant military and economic force on the planet, with all the burdensome responsibility such a role entailed.

It really was just yesterday, too, even for those of us born a few years after the planes descended on Battleship Row. In my early childhood, the prepositional phrase I heard most frequently amid the conversation of adults was probably “during the war.” I remember at least one conversation between my mother and one of her friends about where they were on the “day of infamy” that launched the war.