Pearl Harbor is a U.S. naval base near Honolulu, Hawaii, that was the scene of a devastating surprise attack by Japanese forces on December 7, 1941.
http://www.history.com/topics/world-war-ii/pearl-harbor
The four of us boarded the shuttle boat heading to the Arizona Memorial. My daughter fidgeted on my lap, a fiercely independent five-year-old brimming with vitality and spirit. Frequently termed a “wild child,” her advanced intelligence was deceptive for her age, making it challenging to steer her behavior. Nevertheless, her father and I consistently directed her, trusting that eventually, our guidance would take hold. She was quite different from her older brother; he always adhered to the rules and became frustrated, even angry, when others did not—something his sister seldom did.
While waiting for the others to board, my thoughts drifted back to the start of the morning. We had departed from our hotel, bound for Pearl Harbor, a site I was eagerly anticipating to visit during our Hawaiian vacation. Aware of the need for flexibility with our family, we opted to rent a car for several days instead of relying on public transportation. It appeared that my mornings were consistently hectic, whether at home or elsewhere, as I collected everything needed for the day. Today was no exception; uncertain of our all that we needed, I contemplated every possibility. Nevertheless, we managed to depart only slightly behind our scheduled agreed time.
The drive was breathtaking, but we were unsure of the exact route. Despite my limited navigation skills, I was in charge of finding the way. Upon reaching the Naval base’s entrance, we were asked for our IDs, and of course, I couldn’t find mine. My husband’s displeasure was evident in his expression and terse words. To be fair, the thought of needing identification hadn’t occurred to me—I had no prior encounters with military procedures. Preoccupied with ensuring everyone else was prepared, I had completely overlooked my own ID.
Luckily, my husband had his ID, and it seemed I didn’t appear troublesome. We secured a parking spot, grabbed only the essentials for the coming hours, and headed towards the gift shops, uncertain of our next move. It became apparent that we had to buy tickets for the tour, which featured a concise 25-minute historical documentary on the USS Arizona. Immediately, I started coaching my daughter on appropriate behaviors and discouraged the ones to avoid. My son, who was also listening, wholeheartedly concurred with my guidance.
On 7 December 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, and Arizona was hit by several air-dropped armor-piercing bombs. One detonated an explosive-filled magazine, sinking the battleship and killing 1,177 of its officers and crewmen.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Arizona
We managed to get through the movie despite a few minor incidents. Once the movie concluded, we were all guided from the theater to a platform where a boat awaited. The boat had a capacity of about 30 people. I was uncertain of what to expect; My sole concern was that we might need to rescue my daughter from the water if she leaned over too far. Furthermore, her love for conversation and her endless array of questions were indeed excellent for learning; however, there were moments when it was necessary for her to learn the value of stillness and silence.
I sat with her on my lap, my arms securely wrapped around her, softly whispering in her ear. I pointed out the people, different parts of the boat, and the USS Arizona Monument, explaining all that I could so she would grasp the importance of following the rules, not running, or yelling. Inside, I was knotted with anxiety about how this would unfold.
The Arizona is commemorated by a concrete memorial that spans the wreckage. -from Britannica.com
At last, the boat started to glide through the water, following the captain’s safety briefing. I pulled her in close and questioned once more if she grasped the captain’s instructions. Her sharp mind was evident as she not only comprehended his words but also summarized them. This is the point where unpredictability might emerge; while she could mimic his words, her actions continued to baffle me, particularly when she seemed to think she could escape without following the rules.
She kept squirming, clearly preferring to be next to me or her dad rather than on my lap, where I was gently holding her. The boat ride to the memorial was supposed to take just ten minutes, but it felt like it could last an eternity, given the uncertainty of how my daughter would behave. After about five minutes, something unexpected occurred. My daughter became very quiet and still. She stopped trying to get out of my arms and simply began looking ahead to where we were heading. I did not ask her any questions about why she seemed to accept her situation, because the same thing happened to me. As we approached our destination, it felt like everyone on the boat shared a profound and silent understanding to just be still. It was a deeply moving experience. The USS Arizona Memorial holds such historical significance that the gravity of the place touched everyone on the boat, including my daughter. We all shared an understanding and respect for the moment. This atmosphere persisted as we docked, disembarked onto the memorial platform, and walked through the memorial itself.
As we stepped into the first area adorned with flags, we were all mesmerized. No one spoke, and my kids, along with all the adults, simply looked and watched in awe. We continued to the middle of the memorial, where there are “window-like” openings, but no windows, just open areas. Her dad and I exchanged glances, curious about how long our daughter would keep behaving. He took her hand, giving me the chance to take pictures. Yet, she, along with the rest of us, remained in that same “quiet hush.”
In the back of the memorial is a marble wall with the names of the 1,177 Sailors and Marines who died on the USS Arizona during the attack on Pearl Harbor. This room is called The Shrine Room, and it also honors the men who served on the USS Arizona and survived but have chosen to be interred along with their shipmates. -pearlharbor.org
As I wandered through the open-air area, snapping photos, I found myself at a loss for words to describe my feelings. It seemed like everyone shared the same state of mind. When I reached the far back room and approached the marble wall, the intensity of the atmosphere swelled within my heart and soul. The feeling of immense loss was weighty, and I could feel myself near tears. Part of me didn’t understand what was happening, but I was going with what I felt in the moment. Standing before the memorial wall, I gazed at name after name, each one stirring deeper emotion within me. I felt a gentle touch on my leg and looked down to find my daughter. I could see that she was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions but had no idea what was happening. Despite this, she continued to be very obedient.
After a short while, we were signaled to return to the platform, and I noticed another shuttle boat approaching. As we boarded, I ensured we had a clear view of the memorial on our way back. We were about halfway back, when my daughter began to lean out over the rail. Both her dad and I grabbed her and sat her down between us. It was then I realized the atmosphere was now back to normal. There was no feeling of sorrow or horrible loss deep within me. I looked around and could see everyone else was also feeling the same way.
After that, we had lunch and toured the USS Missouri, which was docked close by. It was very interesting, but it didn’t quite match the experience we had just before.
When we returned back home, a few days later, I was editing my vacation pictures on my desktop computer; and discovered what you see below. I took this picture at the insistence of my husband, as he was aware of the “black tears”, but I was not. This picture, to me, looks like there in the “black tears” (the oil still rising up from the sunken USS Arizona) is a face. Do you see it?
When the Japanese bombed the ship, the fuel exploded and caused terrible fires that wreaked havoc across the ship. Eventually, the fires helped destroy and finally sink the Arizona. Not all of the oil, however, blew up with the ship. Today these are the black tears of the USS Arizona, which Pearl Harbor visitors can still see today. -The Black Tears of USS Arizona | PearlHarbor.org
Here are more photos of that day at Pearl Harbor (2002)
“As always”: I’m eager to hear your views on “…a quiet hush…” and your personal experience. Feel free to leave a comment, send an email or reach out to me on Facebook. If you find this blog enjoyable, please LIKE, SHARE, and SUBSCRIBE.
I appreciate you taking time to visit and share a moment with me. Until next time, see you then!
It’s wonderful to see the timeless charm of “P.S.” still being used! It adds such a personal touch. 😊
P.S.: From that day to this, I double-check to make sure I have my ID with me every time I walk out the door.
P.P.S.: My daughter is now 27 and is beginning her second year of residency as a general surgeon. So, to those of you with strong-willed kiddos, continue to give them lots of direction, love, and allow them to spread their wings.
Through the LENS: a perspective of heart... 
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