I'm getting to be one of those old fuddy-duddies who cries at the drop of a hat. I turned on the television this morning to have some background noise while I ate my bowl of cereal. I hate watching the news, so I channel surfed for a movie, any movie other than having to watch Good Morning America.
The
Longest Day had a twenty-minute head start, already into the scene where some
guy “has a long mustache” and the French underground knows that it’s time to
blow up a bridge. I make light of that, except when I heard that line tears
started to flow and I couldn’t explain why. Maybe it had to do with the date,
today is June 4th, two more days until the anniversary of the D-Day invasion of
Europe to retake what was once a free land
Perhaps the movie, Saving Private Ryan, explained my tears. I remember the old
man standing there in the cemetery with his family on the 50th anniversary of
the D-Day invasion. All around him were the markers, young men who’d given
their lives, their chance to roam this Earth, to have families with children
and grandchildren all around them, their chance to enjoy the “good life”. This
old man was cognizant of the sacrifices made on his behalf. He knew he needed
to live his life in such a way as to “deserve” the opportunity to live out his
life based on his having known these men.
I am a generation removed from those events; the War to end all Wars may not
have lived up to its billing. There are still oppressors and oppressed, there
are still wars to be fought, wars that deprive young men of their chances to
roam this Earth, to have families with children and grandchildren all around
them, their chance to enjoy the good life. I am cognizant of the sacrifices
made on my behalf. I only hope I can live my life in such a way as to deserve
the opportunity. Maybe that’s why the tears flow so easily.
