Ah, December 7th. How well I remember that fateful Sunday 1941 noon in Bethesda, Maryland. Arturo Toscanini was conducting the New York Symphony on the radio, and I was taking my after-lunch nap upstairs. (I still do that, when I can, and often, these days, I can.)
Then, the music stopped and I heard voices on the radio. My father came into the room, told me to come downstairs with him to listen. He said to me, "You must hear this. Your future wife's Navy has bombed our Navy in Hawaii." Of course, DW#1 hadn't been born yet, but you get the point.
My father was wise beyond his time.