I am not terribly emotional by nature, and a fairly practical minded person all in all. A few years ago I went to Hawaii early in December (but unfortunately just after the 7th) and made it a point to visit the Arizona memorial. As a history buff and with a father who served in WWII in B-29's (yea, we're getting them in AH!), I anticipated I would have a significantly informative and intellectual event more than anything else.
However, as soon as I stepped off the shore boat onto the memorial, from then on it became completely different. I stood in front of all the names carved into the memorial and tried to grasp the magnatude of what had happened on that day, and those many desparate days and years that followed. It was simply not possible to truly comprehend, but only to try to emotionally understand.
I can't remember ever having cried in public as an adult, but I did so that day, standing over the railing, I looking down upon the submerged turret shafts of the Arizona, watching her bunker oil, the blood of 1177 American sailors, gently seep up from the depths of their place of rest, to stain the surface of the harbor waters even to this day.
Feeling conspicuous and self-conscious over my tears, I saw that others around me were paying no attention, while shedding tears of their own. I can safely say I have never had a more emotional or saddening moment like that before or since. And yet, in retrospect, it was also strangely uplifting as well. I guess it's the thought that there were such men willing to serve our country in such full measure in her time of gravest need. And that today, we still have those same kind of men, and now women, serving their country so selflessly, so honorably.
I feel those tears again today.
