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During the middle of my senior year in high school, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. The ensuing war, like the War of 1812, really pulled America together. Both times we bickered. In 1941 America still struggled to get over the Great Depression. In 1812 Americans struggled to unite as a nation. The bombing of Pearl Harbor made Americans mad. We'd resisted war, but we gave our all once our ire kindled. We worked together, fought together, sang together, contributed together, mourned together, rejoiced together, and emerged a world power. It took me a while to catch on. Here's an excerpt from Lolly's Yarn, Chapter Three.

CHAPTER THREE
Turning Point

Near the middle of my senior year, Sunday December 7th 1941 put me squarely into what Tom Brokaw called The Greatest Generation. For a while, it seemed merely something to talk about. As I scrambled in the back door from a cold trip to the outhouse, my friend Mary, visiting after Sunday School, bubbled with news
“Lolly, guess what.”
“What?”
“They bombed Pearl Harbor!”
“Who did?”
“The Japanese.”
“Where’s Pearl Harbor?”
“In Hawaii.”
“Oh. Then it’s ours. Too bad."
Mary's voice rose higher but I didn’t get excited yet. Destruction and death of strangers affected me little, even those on islands belonging to America.
Mother, her body tense, sat with her ear against our Philco radio, trying every station. After dark, KSL Salt Lake City, KNX Hollywood, and KOA Denver sounded great, but in the daytime, only KID Idaho Falls came static-free.
I knew Mary loved telling me news. At school I usually explained things to her (unless it was in math where the tables turned) so I couldn’t begrudge her this chance.
“What does it mean?”
“It means war.”
“Really, Mother?"
Mom nodded.
Exciting news seldom occurred in Sunnydell. One spring the river overflowed its banks, and flooded Theron Cheney’s house. Occasionally, a cow got into our garden, but that only affected us. Now and again, somebody died. New babies were newsworthy, and at least once in the last five years a new family settled in Sunnydell. Most anything else was mere gossip. This news intrigued me.
“Why in the world would Japan want to bomb our territory? We aren’t fighting them.”
I’d studied enough history to be at least slightly interested in what was going on in the world. I knew Germany and England had been warring for several years, and Italy was involved, but not us. Besides, Uncle Orris told me many times, how he fought a war to end all wars. No way could our peace-loving United States ever get embroiled in another war.
The radio blared more information, and we listened carefully. Dad came in from doing chores, took off his boots and heard the news. He and Mom exchanged worried glances. I could almost see them thinking of their own sons; Ermil and Velle in Salt Lake City, Blaine and Jean in Washington, D. C., and Don in college at Moscow, Idaho.
I, on the other hand, finally felt excitement that tingled to my toes. I tried to call Lorna, but the party line was busy.

Next day as I tucked the skirt of my dress into my navy snow pants, I could think of little else. I tugged on my beloved white leather snow boots with sheepskin lining that folded over the top cuff, and shrugged into the fleecy jacket that matched the snow pants. Last of all I pulled on a hand-knit blue and white stocking hat and matching mittens. Mother said she chose the wool yarn to bring out the color of my eyes. Though mittens make it harder to pick up little things, they’re actually warmer than gloves. I grabbed my lunch box, took my ever-present shorthand notebook, said goodbye to Mom, and ran down the snowy country road to catch the school bus that carried all students whether in first grade or high school. Only a quarter of a mile or less, the road seemed miles when I had to run. Delos Nelson, Mary’s father, drove the school bus. He laughed every time he saw me run.
“I’ve never seen anybody waste more time flinging arms and legs out to the side than you do."
He could have talked all day and not told me that. I did my best to ignore him. My running came natural. I was no cripple, but I’d be first to admit I was also no athlete.
Everybody on the school bus seemed to talk of nothing but Pearl Harbor. I’d found it on a map in our world atlas. It’s right by Honolulu. Everybody agreed with Mr. Nelson when he said that the sudden, unannounced attack caught us with our pants down.
At Madison High School, teachers received and passed on to us every new report from the radio. Congress met for a special session. The Senate voted unanimously for declaring war on Japan, Germany, and Italy. The House was almost unanimous. One woman Representative wept, saying she could see no alternative, but her conscience would not allow her to cast a vote for war. Most of the boys at Madison High talked of enlisting. A few planned to drop out of school to join. The majority said they’d graduate first. I admired their courage. Deep inside I experienced a wave of smugness for being a girl.
The excitement quieted within a week or so, but the menace of war always smoldered underneath the surface. Girls who planned to marry the ‘love of her life’ were devastated to hear him decide to enlist as soon as school was out. It hadn’t done much to feed my ego that nobody asked Dad for my hand, but my ego could always stand a little fasting. Now I found it a blessing not to have a particular boyfriend to worry about.