Rick and I returned a few weeks ago from three weeks in Europe, two in France traveling by boat up the Rhone River, by bus to Paris and then another boat on the Seine. The land through which my grandmother traveled is much like Sonoma County, California where we live – though California lacks the majestic cathedrals that took men centuries to build, castles filled with history, Roman Aqueducts and roads from ancient times.
We both wanted to see Normandy. My father was in the third wave as an Army Captain, serving as a medic. His unit also went into Germany and assisted in liberating a concentration camp. Before the war, Dad dreamed of being a doctor. After the war, he went into law enforcement instead. Though Mom would like to have made a heritage trip to Europe, Dad never wanted to step foot on foreign soil again -- nor would he talk about what he had seen at Normandy or the camp in Germany.
Standing on the beach where...


