Going to Pearl Harbor was my son’s idea. He was insistent on going. It was the only place he cared to visit when I asked what he would like to do in Hawaii. I could have skipped it. Once we got there after an hour on the bus, I felt the same. The line was huge. The line began at the entrance about two blocks from where we got off the bus. The line wrapped around almost the entire block. The end of the line was closer to the back of the museum where the boats launched than to the front. That’s where we got in line—not far from the boat dock. It was only 9 a.m. My son had been whining most of the trip, since you can’t take anything into the museum. They don’t allow purse, camera bags or Gameboys. The Gameboy ban was the most difficult for my son. He hardly knew what to do with himself for more than 2 hours without the little screen glued to his eyes.

They offer an audio tour for $5 each. The museum is free. The audio tour is more than worth the money. Once you get into the museum you a get a ticket for the boats. Ours said 12:30 p.m. We had 2 ½ hours to waste. There were tons of people lined up to start the audio tour. It was rather difficult to walk around. So we first stopped at the gift shop. My son spent the most money of the entire trip there. He even met a Pearl Harbor survivor.

The audio tour takes you around the museum telling the story of Pearl Harbor and the service men and women who were there. The bell from the Arizona is there. Artifacts, like clocks and teapots, are there. There is also a complete explanation of how the attack unfolded.

I was doing fine other than the long wait to get in. My son’s grumpiness disappeared soon after shopping. He then immersed himself in the audio tour. He loves World War II history. I got as far as the letter to a wife of a dead soldier before I began sniffling. This is the second item on the tour. By the time I got to the teapot and clock, I was holding back a flood. The clock was permanently broken with the time forever set to the time of the attack. I had no tissues—no purse meant no tissues.
It’s very hard to explain the sadness I felt. I don’t know anyone who died there—no relatives either. I had finally controlled the tears when I cam to the pictures of the ship bands. They were having contests between the ships’ bands. The band from the Arizona was in the finals. And, the tears fell. Just remember it as I write brings back those intense feelings.

The tour then takes you outside to look out over Pearl Harbor. The large white monument is in the distance. The place were you stand was dredged. It was part of the harbor. The audio tour has sound effects at this point. I heard planes and ducked. Then as I looked out over the water, I saw it. I saw the planes. I saw the bombs. The smoke. The fire. I heard the screams. I heard the planes, the guns and explosions. And I cried. I could see the people running about. I saw the chaos. I wondered if I would come back to the present. Then I saw the still water, land and sunshine. I was back in the present. Any moment though I could go back. I flipped form then to now and from now to then. The boat trip to the memorial was still an hour away.

The memorial itself didn’t bring all that back. The memorial was quiet. Everyone was supposed to be quiet—reverential. The memorial seemed empty of feeling. Not for everyone though. Some stared at the list of names at the back. The size of the list was overwhelming. Sad. Tragic. But, there was no wild emotional ride for me. I was thankful. I had enough. It was the most intense emotional experience I’ve ever had. The past was too real, too vivid.

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