Talk to your parents (and grandparents) about their history

Today is May Day. It's a "holiday" that means almost nothing to me, except it makes me think of my dad.

My father served for several years in the U.S. Army, including in the occupation army of Japan. He enlisted as a 17-year-old and was immediately sent overseas, as I understand it.

Most of his Japan stories had to do with drinking buddies and surly MPs. He entered the military in 1946, which technically was a year after the Japanese surrender that ended World War II, so he never saw combat.

But over time, it became clear to me that he saw "combat-like" conditions a time or two, and he wasn't all that eager to talk about it.

The most detail I ever got out of him was around a May Day incident in Japan in which I'm fairly certain he saw Japanese civilians mowed down by machine gun fire. May Day is also International Workers Day, which for obvious reasons was an important holiday for the Communist Party.

Now remember, we're talking late 40s/early 50s here. The Cold War was heating up rapidly, and Americans' biggest fear was the Red Menace. Even in U.S.-occupied Japan there was a burgeoning Communist Party, and its members were apparently allowed to celebrate/demonstrate on May 1st.

To a point. As my dad told it, the pro-communist demonstrators on this particular May Day were told they could assemble, but that they were not to cross a certain line. My dad was for whatever reason part of the detail assigned to police them and keep them confined to their designated area.

When several crossed the line, the American soldiers did as instructed and opened fire. Many of the demonstrators were killed. It was probably the only time my father watched human beings get shot, given that he served in what was primarily a peace-time capacity.

I didn't push for too many details, but I remember asking him a few questions about the incident when he first told it to me. I was probably a teenager at the time, and I was stunned that I had never heard this story.

He provided a few short answers and then changed the subject. I never brought it up again after that and he never volunteered any other details.

While I certainly wouldn't have wanted him to relive something he would rather not have relived, from a selfish perspective I've always been glad he told me that story because it revealed to me a side of my dad that I didn't often see. We talked a lot, but it was always about sports or, frankly, about me. It took me years to piece together his personal story because he simply didn't talk about it a lot.

My point, I guess, is that that's not how it should be. Painful stories aside, all of our parents and grandparents have histories that are worth telling, and most of the time they're eager to tell them. But you and I are too busy going about our daily routines sometimes to stop and ask them about it.

Don't let that happen. Ask. Take time to listen. You'll be surprised not only by what you learn about them, but also about yourself and what makes you the person you are.

Looking at old pictures and hearing old stories is one of the greatest ways you can bond with a parent or grandparent. So go do it. Right now, if you can.

Trust me, those errands can wait.