In the Fall of ‘41

Often, I am eight. returning to that time of two awakenings. Franklin Roosevelt’s intonation came from the radio speaker. His voice was God’s voice and spoke of infamy at Pearl Harbor. The war rearranged faces. Emotions were suddenly made public. I felt the barrier dissolve between adults and myself. It was my portal into a world beyond my small one.

Two months before December 7^th I had another initiation which sounds frivolous. The World Series was the World Serious to me. The Dodgers were playing the Yankees as they are today. A Yankee player struck out to end the game, but the game did not end. Without going into details, what seemed like victory turned into defeat. Baseball is a lesson in failure but failing gracefully. There would disappointment but tomorrow's a new ballgame. I learned it that day and never forgot.

Memories are moments that cling, momentous or puny; it doesn’t matter. The declaration of war by Germany four days after that December Sunday prompted Churchill to dance the jig. He knew our entry into the European theater would save England. For me, it would set into motion a cluster of childhood tableaus.

There would be air raid drills and blackouts, rationing and war bonds. Refugees entered my class. The Four Freedom posters by Norman Rockwell appeared on our school room walls. I rejoiced with Allied victories and wept with Roosevelt’s death.

As for baseball, there were historic feats performed that summer of 1941 which will never be equaled. But I was too young to take note. It wasn’t until that day in October that I was ready to take on the world. The attack on Pearl Harbor was a tragic event but there would a reckoning.