Over Thanksgiving, I met with my funny Uncle George. Well, actually he’s my great-uncle, but he’s just “uncle” to everyone in the family. You know, that guy in the family who doesn’t have any kids of his own and always slips all the kids a 20 dollar bill around the holidays. Let me emphasize that he’s not that creepy uncle many have in their family. He’s the lovable kind, outspoken one.
Anyways, he and my grandfather got to talking about WWII as they always seem to do. I can’t blame them, it was a pretty tremendous event in their lives and one that defined a good deal of their existence. George happened to be in France for the war and he was there somewhat towards the end of it all, just mopping up the Nazis with everyone else. Good times I suppose.
When asked if he had ever been back to Europe after the war, the answer was a resounding “No.” It’s kind of funny for a guy who grew up speaking Portuguese that he’s never been back there. Despite how hard I tried to tell him that it really and truly has been rebuilt since the war, he really had no interest in going over there. I suppose Europe just isn’t for some people when you get down to it. Such a funny guy, content to live out the rest of his days in Modesto.