The commemoration ceremonies to mark D-Day are usually a time of bittersweet sadness for me. I was raised by World War Two's survivors -- my parents were married in London on May 22, 1940 -- during the height of the London Blitz. World War Two's survivors shaped my world.
My father's best friend was a Dutchman named Ike. They met in Holland when Ike was with the Dutch resistance. When Dad returned to Canada after the war, he brought Ike and Anna and their kids with him. 'Uncle' Ike and 'Aunt' Anna were fixtures around my house when I was growing up.
Veterans of that conflict were my teachers. Most of my friends' fathers' were veterans, as were all my father's friends. My grandfather was a veteran of BOTH World Wars.
There was something about them -- they were quiet giants. These quiet giants not only shaped my world, they were the ones running it.
When I was growing up in the fifties, Allied Supreme Commander General Dwight David Eisenhower, the man that put D-Day together, was sitting in the Oval Office. The Senate and House were filled with D-Day veterans. My father trusted them.
I listened to some of the D-Day veteran's stories on TV -- one 83 year-old told of his experiences without bitterness, ending by mentioning the recent loss of his wife of 59 years.
To me, he was another example of why those quiet giants earned the nickname, "the Greatest Generation." This vet didn't criticize his leadership when his ship was shot out from under him. He didn't even hold any bitterness towards the German who fired the fatal shot. He came home and lived quietly for fifty-nine years with the bride of his youth.
The quiet giants of my youth who stormed the beaches at Normandy are now either dead or in their eighties. I been blessed to have known such men all my life -- each D-Day commemoration reminds me of who they were and it gives me such sadness to know that soon they will be gone. I will miss them all.
D-Day, the sixth of June, is especially sad this year, with the passing of the greatest member of the 'Greatest Generation', President Ronald Reagan. With his children and Nancy at his bedside in the Bel Air neighborhood of Los Angeles, the president was pronounced dead at 1 p.m. PDT on June 5, as the D-Day commemorations were kicking in to high gear.
When asked to name the greatest American president of all time, President Reagan is consistently among the top five. In a Gallup poll taken in 2001, President Reagan was at the top of the list.
His last ten years were a living hell as Alzheimer's Disease ravaged his mind. At a fund-raiser in May, Nancy Reagan admitted; "Ronnie's long journey has finally taken him to a distant place where I can no longer reach him." It is with bittersweet sadness that we note his long journey is at last at an end.
This D-Day, the sixth of June, there is another quiet giant at that heavenly reunion.
