Every year I share the following with as many people as will listen.

I am the son of two Pearl Harbor Survivors. My Dad and Mom both survived the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. In 1941, my Dad, who passed away on January 15, 2005, was a young sailor from Detroit and my mom, who now lives in Palm Springs, was a 17 year old local girl. They met in Hilo, Hawaii in January of 1941. They were married in June of 1941 in Honolulu by a Justice of the Peace and on December 7, 1941, they lived in Navy Housing Area Three (NHA 3, on Ninth Street) right outside of the Main Gate of Pearl Harbor (For those of you familiar with Pearl Harbor, you will know that close by the Main Gate of Pearl Harbor is also the Main Gate of Hickam Field, also destroyed that day).

My Mom and Dad's survival story of December 7 and the rest of the War is an amazing series of events. Not only did they survive that day, but shortly after December 7, my dad volunteered for Submarine Duty and they both traveled to New London, CT and Dad attended Sub School. They then headed back to Pearl Harbor where my Dad made several submarine war patrols in the South Pacific (those of you who are history buffs know that many of our subs in the Pacific were sunk with crews lost). I was raised surrounded by many who were Pearl Harbor Survivors and Submarine Veterans of WWII...all heroes to me, not only the men, but the wives who suffered those years of war and struggle as well. Each year there are fewer of them around...but I will always remember them.

Every year since the year I left home when I was 19 (1968), I call my Dad and Mom on December 7, no matter where I happen to be. We talk about Pearl Harbor and where they were that day, and what they were doing. "Happy Pearl Harbor Day" is the way I start each of those calls. I have known their story well, but I always call my parents to relive their Pearl Harbor experience with them. Last year was the first Pearl Harbor Day without Pop...I called my Mom and we shared stories about Pop...this year, I am driving to Palm Springs to spend the afternoon with my Mom. For many years my parents lived next door to me in San Diego. I was very lucky to have both of them so close for so much of my life.

The story of Pearl Harbor is part of my life and childhood memories. It was one of the defining moments in my parent's life, if not the defining moment and it had a major impact on my life. As a small boy in the early 1950s, my family lived in Navy Housing (NHA 1), right outside the Main Gate of Pearl Harbor. Our living room furniture was rattan, our carpets were lahala mats. In 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grades I attended Pearl Harbor Kai Elementary School. Our classrooms were Quonset huts and we had concrete bomb shelters in our back yard...constant reminders of Sunday, December 7, 1941. When I was a young boy living in Hawaii in 1950, WWII and the attack on Pearl Harbor were still recent history.

For a survivor's perspective of what happened on December 7, 1941 (Dictated in 1991 by my Dad to my wife Janie)...go to: