It’s D-Day as I write this, having turned to the comic page and saw Snoopy swimming towards shore with many other hero soldiers behind him. It gives the date as 6-6-1944, and I was 4 years old.

In the foster home I was in, the husband and brother were in the Navy and on a ship somewhere. They came home, and I’d been taught to sing “Anchors Away” and “Bell Bottom Trousers” when they walked in the door. That’s all I recall, but 2,501 Americans were killed that day defending the world from fascism. Had I been in my 20s at the time, there’s no way I would have had the courage to run off a ship with gun in hand and face the German army.

There will be plenty of coverage of the celebration of gratitude in France, but I was drawn to Google the word “fascism” and read the warning signs. Sadly they are all around us, so take a few minutes and go to the major dictionaries and see if you don’t see something familiar in warning signs.

Portia Miles Smith


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