I am moved, always, by the D-Day Anniversary ceremonies, when we pause to remember and celebrate the allied forces storming the beaches of Normandy to liberate France, and eventually Europe.  I think I have a special reason to respect and understand that the sequence of events may have been far different were it not for the bravery, courage and honor shown by those men sixty-five years ago today.

You see, I have a father and two aunts who spent many a night sleeping in a bomb shelter dug behind their house in Dagenham, Essex, England. The Germans continued to bomb the heck out of London, and any strategic targets nearby, for close to 3 years.  This portion of my father's formative years as a pre-teen is commonly referred to as the "London Blitz". 

My grandfather, and the occupants of the neighboring row houses, were instructed to dig in their back yards, dig deep enough to assemble a few sheets of curved, corrugated iron into a half buried, flimsy, bomb shelter with bunk beds and room for a family of five which included two young girls, my aunts, who were 5 and 2, and my father, who was 7 years old when this very scary period began. For over a year they spent every night in that shelter while German bombers flew overhead, bombing and destroying parts of the town in the process.

My father, and his oldest sister experienced being evacuated to Northern England, away from his parents and out of harms way, to a place that was deemed a refuge for children during the war. 

Supposedly.  

That is until a German bomber, intent on bombing the nearby Tyneside shipyards, flew overhead and interfered with their stroll to school by emptying his guns.  They turned right around and ran all the way back to my great- grandmother's small house.

Soon after that experience my grandmother retrieved all three and brought them back to Dagenham.  "We're a family, and we'll stay together. That's what is right and that's what we'll do."  My grandfather James Long Abbs Forster was a Petty Officer in the Royal Navy.  He worked on mine-sweepers and my dad recalls going to visit him at the Navy docks along the Thames in an area just below the Tower Bridge called "Wapping".  

My grandother also worked at the Dagenham Ford Factory for the war effort, building tanks and other needed equipment.  Most of their food came in tins, Spam; canned Salmon; canned fruit cocktail and the inevitable baked beans.  At times they might have a treat - it could be a solitary banana shared by all or a bite of rationed chocolate. But rations were what my grandmother had to work with.  And so they learned to stretch a lot, while still drinking lots of tea.

As an adult, I now understand why my grandfather would hand me a pillow case at Christmas time stuffed with all my goodies.  That was their custom during the war, and it seemed normal to him to stuff the pillowcases with coins, tubes of "Smarties" (the UK equivalent of M&M's), English crackers with the paper hats inside,  walnuts in the hard shell, and oranges. He thought it would be a treasure for any kid.  He loved watching us have a "good rake through" all the items, as he'd say.

It just didn't faze them much when they came over to this country.  I was fascinated by their stories and their ordeal which lasted for some years.  They simply had not known a safe and quiet evening at home.  The air-raid warden could come at any time to make sure all evening lights were out, and the drapes drawn to minimize any possible attack from the air.

My father brought them over from England some years ago, along with my aunts and cousins. They have, since, all enjoyed successful lives here in the States.  I suppose that the tests and trials of his life are, perhaps, what gives my father his special atitude.  He came to this country to become a "collector of degrees" as we joke in our family.  Degrees in Piano, Engineering, Law, and as a successful entrepreneur.  I think he lives with a full understanding of how times can be truly adverse.

"We'd all be speaking German now, pet, if it weren't for the allied forces".  My grandmother would say this many times as I grew up.

I cherish the stories and the remembrances.   I am the first generation of my father's family, born in this great nation.  I also know that these stories shaped my life and helped me understand what a treasure freedom is, and democracy.  I have a privilege to freely use what I have been given, this privilege and freedom exists only because of the sacrifices of those who fought and defended freedom.  I knew the stories were so important back in my teens that I committed them to paper at the time.  

The stories, remembrances and observances are now my responsibility, and yours.  We must always make time to remember this day, remember our heros, remember our fallen troops and those who still live with the memories of D-day.

Deserving of reflection, we remember and we honor.

We are grateful.