Originally Posted by at6d

Two Octobers ago I made the bucket list pilgrimage to Normandy. I spent a solid week there visiting two or three different sites every day. Had I spent a month there, I would have not seen half of it.

As I walked every beach, I contemplated the fact that my life as a first-generation American would not have happened had the Americans not rolled through my mother’s village in Northern Italy in 1945.

My mother was two at the time, and the region she lived in was annexed into Italy after WW1. The native language was banned, towns were Italianised, and culture was squashed. After the Fascists were removed, the Nazis came in. The boys were drafted, and many families were relocated to Poland as they weren’t “ethnic Germans.” Most did not survive.

When the Americans rolled through in 1945, a new hope was born.

My grandfather would often wonder, “are they good people?”

My mother made the switch and emigrated in 1970.

I assure you all, this land is born of sacred blood, spilled on foreign soil. It is not forgotten.

It is my privilege to be an American, thanks to the brave souls that remain where my descendants came from, and to those that guard our freedoms today. My condolences to the friends and family of the Fallen. They are revered and cared for on this Decoration Day.