On Wednesday, December 7, 2011, the seventieth anniversary of the day that naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan attacked the American naval base at Pearl Harbor and other nearby facilities of the U.S. army and army air force, was marked with solemn ceremonies in Hawaii and across the nation. The day after this occasion it was also announced that the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association was disbanding. How shall we remember, when those alive at the time of any event, even an exceedingly momentous one such as this, are gone? It is done by a kind of alchemy that makes history a living entity though the subject is by definition, the study of things gone by, defunct, in the past, ended. This is challenging, but of vital importance, as mine (like those of most Americans, and one day soon: all Americans), is really only a memory of a memory of the "day that will live in infamy."
The date was remembered. The intention was to attend ceremonies that day at the National cemetery where my father and uncles, all veterans of World War II, are buried. Life intervened. Major renovations on our house, somewhat delayed, were rescheduled on that day at our contractor's convenience and frankly, at mine. Still, I could have noted the anniversary on its day ten days ago, as has been my wont in other cases, on this blog. I've a twinge of personal guilt in this regard. The above title is a lyric from the "Song of the Seabees." The Seabees are the U.S. Navy's Construction Battalion, and their nickname is a delightful and witty homophone of their official name's initials.
A promise is something that I was taught ought not be broken except for reasons of a grave nature. My late uncle and godfather Damiano was a member of the 30th Seabees from 1942-1945. For him, the song and the event had extra dimensions of meaning and were part of a visceral patriotism that was communicated to us (his seven nephews and niece) when we were still very small children and the memories then, again for him, were especially fresh. Once more, the subject of memory and its value in our lives is foremost in my mind. Several years ago I viewed "The Fighting Seabees", a film starring John Wayne and I vaguely recalled the song. Yesterday, I researched its lyrics and the wording did not make complete sense. Two different sources indicated the words as follows: "And we promise that we remember the 'Seventh of December'." That's like telling one's teacher that you promise that you know the answers to the homework questions of yesterday even though the written assignment is due today and you do not have it available for submission. Such a student needs to perform his "promise" then and there to be credible. A promise is, instead, a kind of covenant whereby future behavior is pledged to one who or something which we respect and honor. This line that I read was not so much a typographical error as it was a telling reflection of an unthinking transcription by someone who didn't care and/or couldn't think clearly enough to appreciate the precision that language demands and the respect and simple but intelligent message it can transmit. I decided to seek primary sources, short of a copy of the original sheet music. Two YouTube selections brought relief and satisfaction: one was of an authentic Navy chorus, Seabees members perhaps, and the other was a wartime clip of the great Judy Garland saluting these particular sailors with her rendition. The above title/quote is, in both cases, their exact words, as I heard them, and makes sense while telling with sweet simplicity, the meaning and value of a promise and a remembrance.
Why remember that day? Well, may as well ask, why remember September 11, 2001? Forgiveness is not the subject of this blog entry, nor is hatred or revenge the matter at hand. However, knowing, understanding and retaining the knowledge and fully comprehending, in all its facets, what evil did and can do in the future to what and to whom one loves and holds dear, is well worth, many times over, the effort required to never forget.
About a half century ago, there was a priest in the parish where I lived. His name was Fr. Duffy and he once gave a homily that, for some reason I have never forgotten. He asked us, his congregants, "what does it mean when we say we are 'sorry'?" A long pause was followed by his startlingly sharp answer to his own question: "it means you're not going to do it again!!" Similarly, faithfully saluting the fallen is, though not the avoidance of a sin of commission, a kind of "virtue of commission" and shares the goal of Fr. Duffy's implied strong suggestion of yore: that of "doing good", a much maligned practice in recent decades, as in "do gooder" or "he's a 'goody-goody'." In both cases what is required is a devotion to the practice, yes, the art of remembering. Consciousness and Conscience as Philosopher King and Queen of something called Civilization: too grandiose a concept? Not "cool" enough a world view for the cognoscenti of this planet? Well, Christendom and the wise of all faiths still seek these paths. The anniversary of the birthday of a special child will be celebrated in a few days. It's another event "deep in December" that's more than "nice to remember" and we promise to, because of His promise.
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