Remembering The Greatest Generation
A Single Rose in the Sand: Remembering My Father and the 80th Anniversary of D-Day. June of 2024, I stood on the windswept shores of Omaha Beach, gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean that once bore the weight of war, courage, and sacrifice. The sky was quiet, the waves gentle — a stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded here 80 years ago. My father was part of the 1st Infantry Division — the Big Red One — and on June 6, 1944, he came ashore with thousands of others in what would become one of the most pivotal moments in modern history. He never spoke about it when I was growing up. However, my father left a journal of his years in the service and specifics about D-Day. Walking the beach where he once ran under fire, I felt both proud and small. Proud of his bravery and resilience. Small in the face of what he and his generation endured. The 80th anniversary reunion wasn’t just a ceremony — it was a living tribute. There were families like mine, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren honoring those who fought and died on that beach. But what struck me most was that rose. That single flower stuck in the sand. Simple, but not small. It was a way of saying thank you. Of showing them we remember. That we all still remember. Eighty years may have passed, but the courage and sacrifice of those men remains ageless. And as I walked away from the water’s edge, leaving the rose behind, I felt my father walking beside me. Not as the old man he became — but the young soldier he once was.
A Single Rose in the Sand: Remembering My Father and the 80th Anniversary of D-Day. June of 2024, I stood on the windswept shores of Omaha Beach, gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean that once bore the weight of war, courage, and sacrifice. The sky was quiet, the waves gentle — a stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded here 80 years ago. My father was part of the 1st Infantry Division — the Big Red One — and on June 6, 1944, he came ashore with thousands of others in what would become one of the most pivotal moments in modern history. He never spoke about it when I was growing up. However, my father left a journal of his years in the service and specifics about D-Day. Walking the beach where he once ran under fire, I felt both proud and small. Proud of his bravery and resilience. Small in the face of what he and his generation endured. The 80th anniversary reunion wasn’t just a ceremony — it was a living tribute. There were families like mine, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren honoring those who fought and died on that beach. But what struck me most was that rose. That single flower stuck in the sand. Simple, but not small. It was a way of saying thank you. Of showing them we remember. That we all still remember. Eighty years may have passed, but the courage and sacrifice of those men remains ageless. And as I walked away from the water’s edge, leaving the rose behind, I felt my father walking beside me. Not as the old man he became — but the young soldier he once was.
A Single Rose in the Sand: Remembering My Father and the 80th Anniversary of D-Day. June of 2024, I stood on the windswept shores of Omaha Beach, gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean that once bore the weight of war, courage, and sacrifice. The sky was quiet, the waves gentle — a stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded here 80 years ago. My father was part of the 1st Infantry Division — the Big Red One — and on June 6, 1944, he came ashore with thousands of others in what would become one of the most pivotal moments in modern history. He never spoke about it when I was growing up. However, my father left a journal of his years in the service and specifics about D-Day. Walking the beach where he once ran under fire, I felt both proud and small. Proud of his bravery and resilience. Small in the face of what he and his generation endured. The 80th anniversary reunion wasn’t just a ceremony — it was a living tribute. There were families like mine, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren honoring those who fought and died on that beach. But what struck me most was that rose. That single flower stuck in the sand. Simple, but not small. It was a way of saying thank you. Of showing them we remember. That we all still remember. Eighty years may have passed, but the courage and sacrifice of those men remains ageless. And as I walked away from the water’s edge, leaving the rose behind, I felt my father walking beside me. Not as the old man he became — but the young soldier he once was.