DREAM DAY, D-DAY TOMORROW

My dream day is pretty simple.

I had one recently.

Did I live every moment to the max and soak up the vibes?

Or did I just feel lucky as hell to be a part of such a day?

Well let me tell you my idea of a dream day at my house:

It starts with a good floor cleaning so no one goes home with dirty feet.

There’s something rewarding about walking barefoot without feeling the grit.

But I’ve got a big dog so there’s plenty of grit to sweep up, then mop.

What is it about cleaning a floor because you want to, not because you were told to?

Do it with your personal initiative and the floor turns into puzzle to solve and who doesn’t love a good puzzle?

Next is food. The chopping, the sauté and mixing.

Me: What’s the difference between frying and sautéing?

Wife: The sound.

Before the people arrive I clean up the kitchen; after they leave I do it all over.

In between the coming and going it’s the people who make a dream day.

It’s always the people. Tomorrow is no different.

A Gathering Of Daughters

Tomorrow is the anniversary of D-Day, June 6, 1944 to June 6, 2023.

It’s the day that turned the tide in WWII.

Reading about the guys always makes my blood run cold.

Paratroopers of the U.S. 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, the British 6th Airborne Division, the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion, and other attached Allied units took part in the assault.

Numbering more than 13,000 men, the paratroopers were flown from bases in southern England to the Cotentin Peninsula in approximately 925 C-47 airplanes.

An additional 4,000 men, consisting of glider infantry with supporting weapons, medical, and signal units were to arrive in 500 gliders later on D-Day to reinforce the paratroopers.

The parachute troops were assigned what was probably the most difficult task of the initial operation – a night jump behind enemy lines five hours before the coastal landings.

Who were the guys on D-Day?

The average age of death was 27 but more 19 year olds were killed than any other age. 

Tomorrow a group of women will gather as Daughters Of The British Empire.

A British and Commonwealth of Nations Women’s Organization

These are women whose parents were affected by D-Day. Their uncles and family friends and neighbors all knew people who died.

They grew up with stories of Dunkirk, the Blitz, of air raids forcing Londoners to seek safety in the tube tunnels.

Both my mother in-law and father in-law were in the Royal Navy. Mummy’s family was evacuated from southern England for D-Day practice.

Slapton Sands was her home beach growing up.

Dream Day To Dream On

My dream day includes a wife, sons and daughters in-law, an amazing toddler, a funny looking dog, and being helpful.

How do people who have suffered losses like the parents of Slapton Sands soldiers, like D-Day nineteen year olds, ever have a dream day?

Somehow people find the strength to carry on.

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The DBE ladies work to keep memories alive and be helpful to others.

Grandparents try and help their kids with parenting advice.

I know mine did. They thought I was soft because I didn’t beat my children.

When I heard that the first time I put my Mom in a time-out.

Do millennials know how lucky they are to be raised by baby boomers not haunted by loss?

Both my in-laws and parents have died. My daughters in-law spent Grandy’s last night sleeping on a hospital floor in her room after she’d had a stroke.

I remember seeing my parents for the last time; my father in-law died in the room I’m writing in after a long bout with Parkinson’s. Every one of them had had a long life that wound down at the end.

They were ready to go, carrying more trauma than me through their lives.

And they did it with grace, no complaining, and forward looking.

Maybe that’s the solution to a family curse of suspicion and secrecy?

My Mom had her own method. She didn’t like telling family members what the others were up to.

It made her feel special. Once I figured that out, I wanted to make her feel special too.

How did I do that?

I sang her songs and played guitar during hospice after a harp player finished.

Me: Isn’t it a little early for a harp?

Mom: What song are you singing?

Me: Knocking On Heaven’s Door.

Mom: And you’re asking about a harp?

I remember her great laugh.

I’ve lived fifty more years than the nineteen year olds on D-Day.

Have my years been worthy of the life they laid down for a better world?

I like to think so, and I encourage you to reflect in the same context.

You are worthy. If you didn’t know, now you know.