Echoes from the Greatest Generation: Is Our Gratitude Fading?
The first grave I ever visited in Normandy belonged to a nineteen-year-vintage from Ohio. The gravestone became elementary, his call carved in white marble, the grass around it clipped with the type of care characteristically reserved for a backyard lower back home. A French groundskeeper nodded to me, the visitor with American footwear and a lump in his throat, after which stored operating. He didn’t need to mention some thing. The scene pronounced enough. Someone still re