Flashbulb Memories

Late autumn 1941. The Sunday service had just concluded. As their father lingered at the little north-country church, my dad and his siblings walked the short distance home. When their father came up the snowy hill to the farmhouse, he was crying. He’d just learned Pearl Harbor had been bombed. His sons—my dad included—would be going to war. Dad always recalled the moment in vivid detail.Researchers call such events “flashbulb memories”—moments seared into our