Pearl Harbor Day tomorrow, December 7, 1941. Sixty-nine years ago. My, how the time does fly. I was eight back then and don’t remember much of anything about that day, infamy or famy. In fact, the only things I remember about the war are the savings stamps we used to buy at school, the government oranges and apples we would get at school, having to use the orange wrappers for toilet paper, the black silhouettes of enemy airplanes we had to be able to recognize in case there was an air-raid warning, the gas stamps when gas was rationed, the News of the Day stuff about the progress of the war at the local theatre before the movie came on, and finally, the sound of the sirens marking the end of the war in 1945. I remember at first wondering why all the sirens in town were screaming and then I realized what it meant, the end of the war. I was then twelve and still relatively stupid about the state of affairs in the world. I guess I still am.
I've always collected errors in diction, things people mis-hear, like "windshield factor" and "the next store neighbors." Years ago, one of my students wrote an essay in which she described the world as being harsh and cruel, "a doggy-dog world." I've since come to think she may have been more astute and accurate than those who describe it in the usual way. My Stories - Mobridge Memories -
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