Reflections on the 4th of July

On the 4th of July last month, I saw two clients in the morning, took a long walk with my husband on a beautiful sunny day, and ate Chinese at a local restaurant. There, we reflected on how my maternal grandmother survived directly watching Pearl Harbor get bombed on Dec. 7th, 1941. My grandfather had been shipped out with other Marines to Wake Island the day before. Machine gun bullets from enemy planes strafed her bungalow/apartment. (While on a cruise to Hawaii in 2008, my dear R. actually saw the area where she lived, albeit unbeknownst to him at the time. He and I met in 2009.)
She was later evacuated with her two young children (the younger, my birth mother, then aged 10 months) to the mainland, but not before the ship they were on evaded a Japanese sub’s sonar by traveling in circles for gods know how long out in the Pacific.
Grandpa Spike and Grandma Julia embodied true patriotism, ensuring the protection of America from fascist rule and the thriving of their two children, who would go on to have their own children. Those kids, myself included, would later find their own ways of giving back to the country, this beautiful U.S. of A. 

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