I found myself in Germany on the 70th anniversary
of D-Day. A long-time friend picked me up at Frankfurt Airport and told me we
were making “a stop” on the way to his house. The stop was the home of an older
couple that I met last October when my wife and I hosted them along with my
friend for a few days when they were traveling in the eastern US. They wanted
to have lunch with their recently minted American friend and “speak English”. We
sat outside under a bright blue sky on a perfect, peaceful June Day. Both
German and American flags were flying in the backyard. It was hard for me to
imagine the adrenaline rush that my father was having 70 years earlier as he
anticipated crossing the English Channel.
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| My Father - "Thanks Dad" |
The topic of D-day came up and I gingerly took out my IPhone
and went to my camera role where I had two pictures of my Dad in a screen shot
I saved of pictures that my sister had posted on Facebook earlier in the day.
As my hosts glanced at the image of a college age American in uniform from
decades before, I began to ponder how odd the world I inhabit would have seemed
to the young man in the picture. My father was part of the invasion force
coming over on the second day and like most of “the greatest generation” never
talked about it until late in life and then only when asked.
The final destination of my trip is China – Germany only a
stopover to see a friend. D-Day was not in my mind when I booked the ticket. The
timing of the trip was driven by an invitation to speak at a lithium battery
forum in western China. The invitation was officially from the government of
the province but was really the doing of an old friend who was tasked to invite
some “foreign experts”. I definitely qualify as a foreigner and I think they
were “rounding up” on the expert part. It would have been hard for either of my
parents to imagine me being invited to China as a guest of the government.
The only other “major” anniversary of D-Day I remember was
40 years. What I recall was President Reagan’s speech. I was in the midst of graduate
school on that June day. I had never been outside North America and the idea of
ever living in Japan would have been “not impossible but not very likely”.
Living in China would have been “impossible”. I was with my Dad but there was
no discussion of his part in the D-Day invasion force. He wasn’t ready – even after
40 years.
The week before my current trip, American TV was rife with
comments about the 70th anniversary. Of course, as times passes,
there are less and less D-Day participants around to interview about one of
epic battles of all time.
Yesterday, we didn’t dwell on the topic of D-Day over lunch
but the brief discussion stayed in the back of my mind as we drove through the
German countryside to my friend’s home. I am old enough to remember the cold
war and Viet Nam. I turned 18 just as Saigon was falling so I was never faced
with being in armed conflict. My nieces and nephews went to places like Iraq
and Afghanistan. I was born in the era that fell in between wars. Maybe because of
this, I often think about the sacrifices of the generations on either side of
mine.
I have spent more time in the past twenty years in Japan and
China than in the US. Now I make my living largely because of my experiences
and relationships in Asia. My Uncle was part of the battle of Iwo Jima – we didn’t
learn the details until after his death a few years ago. In the early 1950s, my
Uncle was an ex-pat in Japan working for Pepsi. After his death I was given
pictures taken of him at parties in Ginza and other parts of Tokyo I am very
familiar with. I have always regretted not having the chance to talk to my Uncle about the experiences he kept to himself.
The year I graduated from college I had dinner with my
Uncle. He asked about my future which was very uncertain. That night he told me
to consider living overseas. His advice was quickly forgotten but came back to
me 20 years later when I was offered the chance to move to Japan. The opportunities I have today to travel the world are due
to the sacrifices of those who were born before me and after me. I can only say "thank you".
