December 7, 1941

December 7, 1941

I had ridden the bus on that shiny Sunday afternoon
to meet my friends for an evening of fun at the Baptist church
little knowing that after that day
the world as we had known it
safe, secure, predictable, with God in charge (or so we were told)
would never be the same.
Everyone was talking
in hushed, unbelieving murmurs
about the report on the radio
that couldn’t possibly be true
and yet
the next morning the principal called us out of our classes
to gather in the sunshine on the bleachers on the football field
to listen to our President over the loudspeaker
as he spoke of the “day that shall live in infamy”
and declared our country to be at war
and in a few more days some of our classmates left school
to go to fight in that war
and the next Sunday at church we were told that Jack O’Neal had died on the Arizona
and his young wife was suddenly a widow
and a while later Toshi, the Japanese boy
who lived at the end of our street on a thriving vegetable farm
disappeared, with his entire family, and the farm went to seed
and once, a submarine was reported seen off the beach where we sunned and played
so from that time on we had to hang dark curtains at our windows at night
and Air Raid Wardens patrolled the streets to be sure that no light showed outside
and whenever we heard an airplane overhead
we wondered if we should hide.

After that day
our world never felt as safe again
and in spite of what they told us at church
we often wondered
if God was really in charge.