Back in my high school and college history classes in the late 1960s as I sat doodling or day dreaming, if anyone had told me that I’d become a journalist and write articles about World War II, I would have told them they were out of their minds.

I thought history was just a bunch of men and wars with no women anywhere, so what was so important? All those facts and dates certainly didn’t impact my life. But there I was wrong.

The seeds of my interest in history were at that moment lying dormant inside of me. They sprang from my dad’s stories about his part in the Normandy invasion and his time in France in 1944. Dad talked about the kindness and gratitude of the French people, for example. There were funny stories, about his efforts to communicate using his high school French. He talked about being a lieutenant in the navy and unloading the huge ships with all the supplies of war.

There was the poignant story about the little French orphan, Gilbert Des Clos who dad had gotten close to and tried to adopt and bring home to America. But one night, when I was about sixteen and clearing the table after dinner, I noticed that his stories were different. Maybe he thought I was old enough to know more of what really happened. I sat back down to listen.

Click here to hear the entire radio program: KXJZ — 6/4/09