Several years ago, Mom took me on a long trip through Normandy and Brittany, starting from England. We arrived at the ferry to go over to Normandy on her brother's birthday, June 6th. When asked where we were going, we said Normandy, and the response was What, again?
It wasn't until we got to the French side where everything was Place 6 Juin, Rue 6 Juin, and saw "countless white crosses" that we realized what the ferryman had meant. And Mom "survived" WWII, so you'd think she'd have that date burned into her memory for ever.

I guess my thought is, while not forgetting what DDay means, and it means a lot even to little pacifist me, it's nice also to have thoughts about other things happening on this day.

So, happy birthday, Uncle Steve! And also to my father-out-law, and may happy returns of the day, even this day. Good luck with the Alzheimers and Lou Gehrig's diseases, may you not realize what is happening to you.