As I turn my calendar to December the words “Pearl Harbor” jogged my memory of a cold, gray Sunday afternoon of 80 years ago. An afternoon with the smell of snow heavy in the air as I walked home from skating on the pond behind the old Depot School.

I still recall the click of Mother’s knitting needles as she fashioned Christmas mittens. As with every Sunday afternoon, Dad was listening to “The Shadow” on the radio. An announcer’s voice broke into the program: “The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor.” War was a familiar word in my young vocabulary. My parents and grandparents talked about Hitler, Germany, the Nazis, Mussolini, and the bombings of Great Britain. I recall the tremor in adult voices when German troops marched into Austria, but even more vivid is 1939 when Hitler invaded Poland.

I knew Allies meant friends, the Axis was the enemy. I remember the day I asked my mother what newspapers reported when there was no war.

But I knew the words of this cold December Sunday were different from the war words I was accustomed to hearing. Within weeks, the young men left our town. Soon young women were encouraged to join the women’s corps. Older men, women and children became part of what we called the “home front.” Lookout towers sprang up in several areas of towns. These were manned 24 hours a day to report any possible enemy aircraft.

At night, towns were sealed in darkness. Air raid wardens checked to assure not a speck of light shown. We learned to roll bandages, took Red Cross, made camouflage nets on wheels previously used to make fishing nets.

We saved newspapers, cooking grease to be recycled, planted victory gardens, had ration books and rarely had fresh meat.

Hearts stirred at “The Marine’s Hymn,” “The Star-Spangled Banner,” “God Bless America” and the sight of Old Glory. Letters to and from our boys “over there” were microfilmed and became “V-Mail.”

Day and night I kept to myself the fear of what would happen if the Axis powers attack the United States. But early on we learned not to complain and to do without. History tells us that War II affected more people and caused more far-reaching changes than any war in history. I do not question that, for many those near and dear to me were there.

December 7, 1941: “the date that will live in infamy.” Please dear God, may there never be another!

Evelyn A. Potter is a resident of Kents Hill.