On Sunday, December 7, 1941, my dad, Norris “Ned” Burgher turned twenty-two. He had recently married my beautiful mother, Nadine Georgia Hall, and the two of them were living with my mom’s sister, Irene Howard, and her family in Macon, Missouri.

Actually, it was not unusual for newlyweds to live with relatives at this time in history, as our country — and the whole world for that matter— was still suffering from The Great Depression which began with a vengeance on October 29, 1929, the day the stock market crashed -- and when my dad was only 9 years old.

In spite of the economic challenges faced daily by most people at this time, a birthday celebration was being planned and a cake being prepared for the festivities. Mother had baked her delicious and famous Pistachio cake, which was dad’s favorite. About ten relatives and friends were at dad’s party. They were all planning to go out dancing that evening at the town dance hall. Dad had been looking forward to this day for some time.

People started arriving at 2 PM. The radio was on providing background music. Dinner was to take place around 5, followed by cake and small gifts for the birthday boy. Around 7 PM, the whole group would leave for the dance hall and fun.

My father absolutely loved dancing and was very good at it. He especially loved the Lindy Hop, the father of all swing dances, named after the famous Charles Lindbergh who “hopped the Atlantic in 1927.”

However, the jitterbug was a close second favorite dance for him. He had a number of jitterbug moves that were real crowd pleasers. Besides the standardized steps, dad would sometimes initiate continuous twirls – maybe ten of these in a row. Mom had a strong stomach and handled all this twirling quite well. Dad also included such acrobatics as mom sliding between his legs, then being pulled to her feet. That was his real showstopper.

At around 2:30 pm, though, something happened that would change the lives of all the people at dad’s party. Just as the NBC network radio program changeover was to take place, the start of the Round Table was interrupted with a special bulletin read by newscaster Robert Eisenbach, "We interrupt this program to bring you a news special bulletin; President Roosevelt has just announced the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii by air.” The unthinkable had happened!

Mom told the tale, that after the shocking announcement, nearly all the women present broke into tears, realizing what lay ahead for the men they so loved. Dad’s mouth dropped. His first response was anger. “How could anyone do this,” he said indignantly? “How could this happen?”

Then everyone was very quiet – for some time. They were all taking in what had just happened -- along with the ramifications. A feeling of anxiety pervaded the gathering.

Though this unspeakable event did not stop the family birthday celebration, it certainly put a damper on the festivities. Dad still had his birthday dinner and pistachio cake, but after the news of the day, the whole group did not feel up to dancing. Not on this day.

A few months later my patriotic father would enlist in the Army Air Corp, becoming an aerial gunner and serving his country as part of the Pacific Campaign of WW II. Mom was able to be with him during his training period. I was conceived during this time, and born shortly before dad was sent overseas.

Mom and I then went to live with dad’s parents, Mabel and Rex Burgher – my wonderful grandparents. Billie Ruth Burgher, my father’s sister, and her small son, Donnie, lived with us, too. Billie’s husband was in the Navy, also in the Pacific Campaign.

My grandparents certainly had a full house during the war years. That also included a border, Elvergia Denning, the librarian at the local junior college.

The Burgher family would be luckier than many, as both dad and Donald Walker, Aunt Billie's husband, would return from the war to their hometown of Moberly, Missouri. For us, homecoming day occurred shortly after the Pacific Campaign of the war ended on September 2, 1945. I had just turned two and a half and was a precocious, little toddler with curly red hair, who very much wanted to see her Daddy. I remember all of us sitting on the front porch of Grandma’s home just watching and waiting.

Our big America Flag was up and flying, proudly, for all to see; most especially we wanted dad to see it. A friend of dad’s was dropping him off at the foot of Windsor Place, the street where we lived. Dad said he would walk the final block to where we were – and Home.

All of a sudden mom jumped up from her chair and shouted, “There he is! It’s Norris!” She started running toward him. When I looked up a man of medium height, extremely thin, and with tears in his eyes, was walking up the sidewalk. I was to find out later that dad’s skeletal appearance was the result of a fairly severe case of dysentery he came down with toward the end of his service in the war.

He was dressed in his brown army uniform and was carrying a huge teddy bear. Guess who was being gifted with the teddy bear? My Daddy, thank God, was home at last!

At subsequent family gatherings, Dad would often reminisce about his experiences during the war years, though he definitely preferred talking about the lighter moments of those challenging years. But he would always connect the war years to his 22nd birthday, saying, “I will NEVER forget my 22nd birthday on December 7, 1941. How could I ever forget that one!”

Norris Burgher (1919)