JUNE 6TH

This morning like every morning I get up and do what I wanted to do. It doesn’t matter what that is, because I can do whatever I want. There is plenty to eat and little to care about. If something is missing, I know I’ll get it. Everyone who lives in this house knows that they too can carry the same attitude. I might even say it is like having money in the bank. It isn’t money though. It is lives that were invested, long before I got here on this earth.

Sixty-eight years ago a bunch of young kids, teenagers most of them, stormed a beach. It wasn’t a Hollywood production, there was no swagger in their steps, no gung ho attitude, it was something a little more cautious. They were reporting to work and doing their jobs, thousands of them. There was no guarantee of bonuses, benefits or vacation time, just a promise of fear and maybe even death. Instead of looking for those guarantees, they were doing the guaranteeing, guaranteeing freedoms and better tomorrows, life with liberty and not tyranny.

Across the Channel from where they departed, grown men were anxiously awaiting word on how these lives were being spent, did their plans work strategically, was the untold fortune being thrown away in lives and money? Even further west, across that big ocean sat and wondered the parents and siblings, love ones and friends of these teenagers, wondering if the boys were safe, living in fear of a visit that brought them only sorrow, and not knowing at that moment what was transpiring overseas.

But I had my coffee, read my paper, ate my breakfast and talked to my wife, about whatever pleased us, because I got guarantees from young boys who became men in the span of a moment’s time on a blood soaked beach. Some witnessed the guarantees and some didn’t, all gave their all.