This reminds me of the single most important thing I learned from my grandfather, or ever perhaps.
He was a submariner in WWII, was at pearl harbor that Sunday morning when the attack started, and through the war with many difficult and dangerous submarine tours (he was nearly killed and received the purple heart in this incident during the 7th war patrol https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Saury_(SS-189) ). After he got better he was part of the occupation of Japan after the war.
My knowledge of him, from him, started many years later after he "retired". Like many like him he never really retired, working as a Sergeant at arms in the Colorado capitol building through most of his Golden years. When young, I would ask him things about the war, his submarine, what he did and saw. He always obliged, but in a way that I have only come to truly appreciate myself until I was well into adulthood. He told me the stories, but always with a jovial, deliberately glass is half full way. I would ask why we're we fighting with them, and he would say things like "they had bad leadership", or "the bad man in charge made them". He would laugh and have a great time telling the parts of the story he did.
I've since come to realize through conversations with my Mother and research I myself have done that there was far more to these stories, none of it appropriate for a young child to grapple with, and all of which completely unknown to me until I was "old enough" (are we ever old enough to process such things as happened in WWII? Perhaps I should just say old enough to better grapple with).
A watershed moment for me was hearing the song "The War Was in Color" by the band Carbon Leaf. In it, a young man comes across his grandfather's chest of old black and white photos from the war. He asks questions, was it in color? The grandfather replies "trust me grandson, the war was in color". And goes onto describe the vivid details of war. My grandfather never did. Instead he shared with us what he learned living in Japan, he taught us how to use chop sticks, he would cook Japanese dishes he learned to prepare while there, he shifted the focus from war. I never once heard him say a disparaging word about anyone, any nationality, especially those with whom he fought.
I knew not what I asked. My grandfather, Irv to those who loved him, had every right to answer my questions. He didn't, he gave me the pieces he knew I needed at that time to build a world view in me that he hoped for our future. A world view where we respect and love eachother for our differences rather than our similarities. Thank you grandpa.