Today, as I was heading accomplish a bustling agenda of tasks, I walked past the television and caught glimpse of the movie blaring throughout the living room. My feet came to a momentary pause. Dad was sitting intently in his claimed recliner, and after hearing roughly 30 seconds of the score, I immediately knew what movie it was.
Pearl Harbor.
I ran to our plaid-smitten couch and took a permanent evening seat.
...I've seen this movie like, a bajillion times. It's definitely always been one of my sacred favorites. But somehow, it just hit me differently tonight. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm a little older these days. Or maybe my attention span has miraculously lengthened.
Either way. Man. That movie is heavy. And I know a lot of people might be turned away from it because of the cheesy, fictional love story that it beholds. But I mean, honestly? If anything, that just beefs up the emotion ten times more. Plus, I'm a sap. I'm biased to these types of things.
The story of these heroes is nothing short of commendable. Heartwrenching. Heroic. Brave.
After soaking up all I could from the meticulously re-enacted attack scenes, I stepped away a different-hearted person. I somehow felt the agony of war. Connected truly with the stories of these unsung heroes.
I watched the bonus features. Saw the making of the film itself, which is incredible to watch. Michael Bay went all out to pursue reality. Almost every, if not every, story in the movie is a glimpse of factual history. Dory Miller. The two best friends. The love story. Doolittle and his top-secret gang. All of it. Real.
My dad has an old book of my grandfather's called "Day of Infamy." I started it tonight and hope to finish it in a matter of days. I'm intrigued beyond reason. War is something that just wraps itself around my mind and lingers for hours. Oh, the things we can learn from history. From victory. From defeat.
These men went through things you and I would never upon any circumstance wish upon ourselves. They were tested in a moment of terrifying panic and sudden combat. And they prevailed victorious, no matter what the history textbooks may say. They fought unto the death. They discarded numbers and pursued victory when favor wasn't their friend.
Over a thousand of these men still lie entombed under the tossing waves of the Pacific Sea. Trapped and sentenced to their own death without choice, they drowned in the midst of their heroic action. They, like you and I, had families. Loved people. Loved prospects and spouses. Loved life. And last, but most certainly not least, loved their country.
This morning, at 1:22 A.M. in the morning, I write this simple blog entry to honor those of our past. Those who flew, fought, and finished the trying task at hand. Those who, in a time of no knowledge nor warning, gave their hearts to the cause of their country. I salute you. Really, I do.
It may be little. But I felt the need to document my emotional outpourings in some way or another.
Until next time, brothers and sisters.
Let us truly not forget.
