To be honest, I don’t usually think very much about Memorial Day. It was designated by the federal government as a national holiday to remember Americans killed while in the military service, but most of us, myself included, usually associate the holiday with lighter things: days off, BBQs, warm weather, white shoes.
This year, though, I’m thinking about the holiday a little differently. Last month, I went down to Florida to visit my 99-year-old grandmother, Ruth. Although age has drained her of much of her physical strength, mentally she is still very much herself: she can tell jokes, beat me at board games, and recount in great detail some of the major world events that she lived through. And, since she was born in November 1913, the number of things she’s seen firsthand is a pretty impressive list.
I’d known she lived through World War II, and that my grandfather, Pop Jerry, had fought in the army. But you know what? In the 26 years of my life, I’d never thought to ask her what it was like before. In school we analyze primary source materials over and over, but we so easily forget that our own family members, especially older generations, are often walking primary sources.
So I asked: what did it feel like to live through WWII? And the story I got was not what I expected.
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