Looking Back

Every year on December 7th, my Grandpa Brackin would refuse to allow us to turn on the TV. If someone turned it on when he was out of the living room, when he returned he would turn it off right away. He even unplugged the TV and kept the remote in his pocket one year.

I knew it was because he couldn't stand to watch all the old coverage from the attack on Pearl Harbor, but it was so long ago and he wasn't even there when it happened. It didn't make sense to me why he would be bothered by it so much. It was a tragedy, sure, but not one that affected him directly. He had lived a very eventful life and was not the kind of person to back down from anything or ever act weak. It baffled me that he couldn't handle to watch the grainy old footage from that day, and was so opposed to it that we couldn't even turn the TV on.

My grandpa was an orthopedic surgeon who joined the Navy around the time WWII broke out and even though he was not stationed at Pearl Harbor, he was greatly affected by the attack. That day was very real to him and was more than just old black and white clips of burning ships. It was a searing memory of something that shocked the entire country and deeply affected everyone in the Navy, especially him. He didn't have to be on one of those ships to feel the horror and the loss that had been inflicted that day. It left a lasting impression on him and one that apparently didn't fade with time.

After the September 11 attacks in 2001, I began to realize how he felt. In the 21st century we are a little more jaded and cynical than most folks in 1941, but that was still a big shock to all of us. It didn't seem real and watching those buildings burn and then the second plane hit... the world wasn't working like it was supposed to. It was completely wrong. So horrible to watch. Then I understood how he must have felt.

Now when September 11th rolls around each year I can't wait for the day to end. I don't want to look online or watch TV. I don't want to see the footage of the planes, the burning buildings, the people jumping, everything crashing down... none of it. I'm not calloused and I am not trying to forget, but I don't want to see it over and over every year. It's too hard to watch and the more I see it, the more it affects me as I wonder what the victims went through in those last moments. I wonder about the families who had to deal with it then and still have to deal with it each year.

My grandpa wasn't a sissy and neither am I. He just understood that some things had to be turned off and now I understand that, too.