Saturday June 6, 2026 10:00 AM Tucson Arizona
My day has been filled with office organizing, an hour of tennis, and planning a trip to see the Miller relatives in Illinois.
My sweetheart comes and sits on what I have come to call “the talking chair” in my office. He often moseys in to “just see how you’re doing” or “When do you want to eat dinner?”
Today it’s “Do you know what today is?” This is one of those opener questions that requires no answer. “Today would have been my mother’s 108th birthday.” Hank reminisces by dates. He told me a little bit about her job during WWII.
A quick glance at my laptop shows June 6. “Oh, Hank, today is D Day. Let me see if I can find them.” I turn to my laptop photos and scroll to 2014. “Here, here. Look.”
June 6, 2014 D-Day
My trip to the Normandy Beaches in 2014 with my husband is a huge contrast to our leisurely talks in my office. In 2014 we walked on the wide beaches. Stopped and stared at the calm water. Our group walked along paths to German bunkers. Many of us in our group captured the beauty of the yellow flowers blossoming all across the field down to the blue, blue water beyond the beach. There was an involuntary gasp from the group when our guide said, “Imagine this covered in blood in 1944.”
Looking at my photos I am taken back in time. Our tour group honored the 70th anniversary with a special ceremony. The Veterans represent survivors of World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, and the Gulf War. The haunting sound of “Taps” echoes in the open air. Tears slide down the faces of men and women within circle of the American Cemetery and Memorial. They stand in front of the 22-foot statue, “Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves.” Two of the vets in our group were those American Youth.
June 6, 1944
It might have been like this: Young soldiers sit in landing craft as they head in to the beach. Most are facing toward their destination. Old films I’ve seen show young, so very young men, some smoking, serious faces. One soldier gives a gentle tap on the helmet of the guy in front of him as they line up to get off. Another pats the shoulder of the guy in front of him.
I see a wedding ring on his left hand. My heart races.
Jumping, some end their military duty in the water; some only lose boots, or a helmet, or gun. They dodge machine gunfire, mortars, and mines to get to the beaches. My stomach tightens into a knot.
Bringing It Home
I feel gratitude and anxiety (a crazy mix) that men, women, families sacrificed their lives in wars. I am angry that this “sacrifice” still goes on. I remind myself to connect with everyone I see, meet, talk with, think of. Maybe a smile. A nod hello. To layer positive ideas over negative. To reflect hope and courage in the face of “oh, what can you do?” To be curious and open-hearted about ways we may be different and still connect with ways we are the same.
In the quiet of my office I think of our Metta practice: May I be free from suffering. May I be well. May I be peaceful and at ease. May I be happy.
Someone passes by on the front walkway. I send this to him. May you be free from suffering. May you be well. May you be peaceful and at ease. May you be happy.
And to you. May you be free from suffering. May you be well. May you be peaceful and at ease. May you be happy.
All photos ©2014 Ethel Lee-Miller
Ethel Lee-Miller blogs regularly about people, the power of words, and her writing life. She retired after 30 years of teaching, and semi-retired from coaching, and professional editing. Founder of the Eastside Tucson Writing Room based in Tucson AZ, she’s posted 100s of blogs, and is the author of Thinking of Miller Place, and Seedlings, Stories of Relationships. These days she writes to inspire, to connect with folks, teaching about the power of words, gather writers together, and for the pure enjoyment of it. Ethel enjoys teaching, speaking, and storytelling at Odyssey Storytelling, Artists Standing Strong Together, Tucson Tellers of Tales, Center for Spiritual Living Tucson, New Story Pod, and anywhere there’s a mic or a Zoom room.