A Constant Student.

Simply said, I love history. In grade school and high school, I thought it the most boring of all subjects. It was only second to my least favorite, mathematics. I had teachers that could have cared less about it, but wanted to drill it into our heads. And still to this day, I can't tell you why WWI began. And then I went to college... I had a wonderful series of history professors, all intricate storytellers. That was something I never realized: history in its being are stories from different eras. It was the first time I heard the dark side of the US- civil rights issues, discrimination (not stopping with African Americans), political deceit, etc. My first professor sent me into a love of that which I had avoided at all costs. It sent me into geography, art history, church history, etc. I couldn't get enough! So now, after taking such odd history courses like "The Black Death", I find myself turning to non-fiction for the first time in my life. While I love fiction (especially classical), I find that biographies of missionaries and artists, books on wars and time periods and the like have all enriched me greatly. Granted, I can only read maybe a chapter a day (maybe) because of busy little feet, but I find myself compelled to "report" on one collection that had escaped me until I procured it at a garage sale this summer.

"The Greatest Generation" by Tom Brokaw has captured my attention since we arrived in Pittsburgh. The collection of interviews with the generation that fought in WWII is an eye-opener in many ways. The struggles they fought against, the nightmares that still haunt them, the loves lost and found. It's truly an amazing collection. While the stories vary from women at home to men in combat to women in the heat of combat as nurses, they are unified in many qualities: hard work, commitment (to both marriages and jobs), duty, honor, and an unfailing love for their country (whether or not they were given a warm welcome when they got back). It's incredible to hear stories from the front lines, some that had never been told before because the teller attempt to bury such horror to the back of his mind. It's heart-wrenching to hear stories of women who lost their husbands, some with a child that would never met their father. It's also disgusting, truly vile, to hear stories of discrimination both in the army and at home, African American men beaten to death because of their race, Native Americans denied promotions because of background, Japanese American families stuffed in horse stalls because of their ancestry. This book hides nothing of the glories, the casualties, and the indecencies of wartime.

If you have time, the stories are short (10 pages max. per story), but more so the new appreciation for the WWII generation is immediate. While I've said, "Sure. I'm grateful," my heart really said, "Who cares?" But after reading even halfway through this book, I can't help but desire to serve the generation who gave so much to us. Read it. You won't regret it.