Today marks the 74th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese, ensuring the entry of the United States into WWII. In some ways, it also marks the beginning of my personal origin myth.
My parents were engaged but had not set a date for the wedding. According to family stories (told mostly by my mother), my father was not yet ready to give up the single life, especially playing pinochle with the guys on a regular basis. After Pearl Harbor, my mother said "George, let's get married. Maybe they won't draft you." There were married 20 days later.
Of course, my father was drafted some months later. Then my mother said "George, let's have a baby. Maybe they won't send you into combat." I was conceived before my father shipped out to Hawaii, where he served for the duration of the war in the coast artillery. He did not see me until the war was over. I was two years old by then.