A jacket represents the cost of peace

When I was a child, an old jacket hung on the hooks in the stairway to our basement. My
mother liked to weed things out that my father thought were “still good.” The morning she
discarded the old jacket, we noticed my father pulling it out of the trash can before he left for
work.

“That is my flight jacket!” he cried in frustration and dismay as he carried it back into the
house.

My mother had not realized the significance of this relic for him. The jacket went back on
the hook, no questions asked. It no longer fit him, but that was not the point.

My father graduated from high school in January of 1941, right after Pearl Harbor. He enlisted
along with his older brother Robert, who was 20 months his senior. That meant that my
grandfather, who was already 70 years old, would see both his sons off to war.

He had altered the business sign to read “D.C. Hart and Sons Jewelers” in anticipation of the future he planned.
My father served in the Army Air Corps from 1941-1946 as a gunnery instructor and also as a
navigator/ bombardier in a Mitchell B-25 aircraft. He was stationed at bases here in the US. My
father did not talk about his years in the service.

My brother served 33 years in the U.S. Air Force. I asked him to describe the plane my father
worked on. The Mitchell B-25 was a mid-sized bomber that helped us win the war.

It had technology superior to British planes that could only bomb at night. The technology
allowed this plane to bomb strategically in daylight and get out of the way. It helped us win the
war in Europe and it changed the tide of the war in the Pacific, too.

One reason my father did not talk about the war was how painful that time was for his family. In
April 1945, my Uncle Robert was checking a plane for takeoff while the engines were running. It
came loose from its moorings, killing him instantly. Everything about my father’s family’s future
changed.

The grief from losing their son broke my grandparents. Robert had been engaged to be married.
Their hopes for that future family were dashed. Their two daughters had married and left home.

That meant that my father, who was their youngest child, had to care for his aging, ill, and
grieving parents and tend to the family’s business.

My family’s story is just one of thousands upon thousands of stories of how one war affected
one family. There are so many stories to be told of the tragic upheaval, loss, suffering and
adjustment required of families who have a loved one who takes an oath to serve their country
and defend the constitution.

Do you, like me, wonder if and when the stories will be told of those who died and are dying
serving their country? And what of their families? Are they getting the help, support,
understanding and assistance we owe them to rebuild their lives when the programs meant to
support them are greatly diminished?

Going back to the losses before and during World War II, what of the millions of Jews and
others who were snuffed out by the Nazi regime in the 1930s and '40s to which our times are
eerily compared? Hearing that some young people are using the same dehumanizing language
used back then makes my blood run cold. They have no idea of the horrors they invoke.

I will never forget my visit to Yad Vashem and the underground Children's Memorial at the
World Holocaust Remembrance Center in Jerusalem for the approximately 1.5 million children
who perished. An eternal flame is at the center of the darkened space, refracted by mirrored
glass so the visitor feels as if they are surrounded by countless stars as the names, ages and
countries of the children are heard in the background.

Any leader of any country who has responsibility for the lives of others should be required to
visit before they make any decisions.

Peace is costly. My father kept the jacket that symbolized that for him.

Recently, I heard the chorus of children from Public School #22 on Staten Island sing a song
written by Holocaust survivor, Inge Auerbacher, with assistance from Madaleine Stone. The
Song is called “A World of Peace.” The reel of the song shows the survivors listening as the
children sing, if you wish to watch.

The lyrics are:
An acorn gives life to a thousand trees
Raindrops make the greatest seas
Nothing’s impossible if we try
The smallest dream can reach the sky
We may be different in our beliefs
But we all share the human need
If flowers grow in the desert sand
Love can break through any land
All wars must cease
There will be peace
A world of peace
Where there's a will there's a way
We have the choice to be the change

With time and care we will win
The time is now so let's begin
All wars must cease
There will be peace
A world of peace
Where the hatred will end
Where the broken can mend
A world of peace
Where the children will sing
As a peace offering
A world of peace