Soren, white bearded Scot, says the word in Danish, his second tongue: bombefly … bomber. He is telling me stories because I asked.
Born in 1940, he remembers crouching with his father behind a stone wall listening to the buzz-drone of a V-1 over London, to the engine cutting out. He remembers waiting for the explosion.
He remembers standing at an RAF airfield and being immersed in the clamorous detonations of 3 Spitfires wingtip to wingtip suddenly slamming directly overhead at treetop level.
He remembers being fastened to mattresses in the fuselage of a Lancaster bomber, their transport to Copenhagen and his grandmother, who taught him Danish and gave him a love of books.
Today is Thanksgiving. Forgo politics and the battles over Trump. Turn off the football games. Ask your loved ones for their stories — what moved them, entertained them, brought them to love? What did they do? What do they remember?
There is much for which to be grateful.
Make your list. Say your thanks.
Then ask those with whom you are gathered to recite for you their tales and prepare to be amazed.
