Sixty seven years ago the Allied forces assaulted the beaches Normandy.  Many small details blasted into those moments creating memories that defined the lives present – both survivors and casualties.  Back home, my dad was only 10 years old, following the war in morning papers and newsreels.  What he remembers most vividly from that day was the radio broadcast that evening when the Liberty Bell was tapped gently with a hammer, seven times, as if to spell out L-I-B-E-R-T-Y returning to the world.  It was one of the few times in the last century the fragile and precious bell sounded.  But that day it was needed.

It may seem like a small gesture, given the blood running heavy enough to crimson the surf on the shore of France.  But it gave meaning to the people who were not there.  Little things like this define the moments that make up the memory of a culture, a people with shared history and talk.  Little things, small personal details, are what burn into our personal memories and make them real.

Little things are the stories that make up our lives.

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