Tulips and windmills; true symbols of Holland.  And, yes, they are as beautiful as you imagine.

Kinderdijk is an iconic small village in South Holland.  What makes it so special is that this quaint village boasts 19 windmills.   Built around 1740, this group of windmills represents the largest concentration of old windmills in the Netherlands.

The day of my visit was overcast and rainy.  I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to take a lovely shot of a windmill.  Plus, because it was tulip season, it also meant it was tourist season.  I sighed thinking I wouldn’t find a private place, and if I did, the weather wasn’t cooperating.  At such times, I quietly ask, “Hey Dave, How about putting in a good word about this weather?”

Within ten minutes, the rain stopped, the sun came out and I even enjoyed a bit of blue skies.  With no-one around, I sprinkled some of Dave’s ashes and took my picture.  As I walked away,  I shook my head in amazement as it started to rain again and people walked up to where I had been standing.

Thanks Dave. I know you were with me once again.
 
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Keukenhof Gardens in Lisse, The Netherlands has the most beautiful, jaw-dropping display of flowers you could ever imagine. In my next post, I will tell you more about them and share with you some of the flowers that were simply amazing. But for now, I want to explain why I chose the Japanese Garden section of Keukenhof as the place where I sprinkled some of Dave’s ashes.

Keukenhof is one of the main tulip attractions in Holland. As beautiful as the colorful flower displays are, millions of tourists visit during the very brief tulip season. Dave’s ashes are sprinkled in amazing places all over the world in quiet, out-of-the way beautiful places; places I know he would love. I truly thought that despite the beauty of all the flowers, it was not the right place for Dave’s ashes. I was disappointed that there were just too many people.

But then I came upon the Japanese Gardens. The serene landscape, bubbling brook, and endless fields of bluebells spoke to me that this was another fantastic place for Dave. The tourists seemed to have forgotten this small part of the park. It was tranquil and beautiful. It bordered on fields of colorful tulips inaccessible to the tourists. I sat for a while and absorbed the beauty of this special place.

It was perfect.
 
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In my quest to retrace some Dave’s best travel memories, I couldn’t forget Amsterdam. He had just finished his stint with the Air Force and decided to re-route his travel home to include Amsterdam. And what could be more fun than sharing it with his brother? So, Rob and Dave both met up in Amsterdam and had the time of their lives.

Of course, I couldn’t visit everywhere they visited, especially in Amsterdam, but I could retrace some of their “Rated G” journeys, such as visiting the Van Gogh museum, and just wandering around Amsterdam.

I smiled as I passed The Bulldog Coffee Shop. If you know anything about Amsterdam, coffee shops are not known for their coffee.

I recall them telling me that after patronizing The Bulldog, they decided to sit on a park bench outside the shop to wait until they could check into their hotel. (Keep in mind they had both traveled that day and were exhausted.) So they immediately nodded off for what they thought had been a few minutes, but had actually been a few hours. Needless to say, they were amazed when they awoke to see all of their belongings were right by their sides. You have to realize that this is a very active area; street performers, vendors all around and yet all was well. Gotta be careful with those Coffee Shops.

My hotel happened to be just down the street from The Bulldog and, I must say, it was quite popular with the young folks. Actually, I went to their souvenir shop to buy Rob a coffee mug (for real coffee) and the clientele must have thought their grandma was spying on them. The loud banter and laughter suddenly became subdued until I walked out.

Although I didn’t sprinkle Dave’s ashes in Amsterdam, I “remembered” him every place I visited. It was special for me to walk in some of the same places where Rob and Dave had enjoyed such a great brotherly experience. I smiled at the memories they shared with me and cringed at the thought of the ones I didn’t know!

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Dave was an adventurous fellow; always looking for the next challenge.  Don’t get me wrong, he was also a champion at chillin’ out!  He just needed that nice blend in his life. 

If Dave had joined us in Aruba, like we had planned, he would have thoroughly enjoyed relaxing on the beach with a good book and a refreshing drink.  But after a day or two of relaxing, he would be looking for things to do; maybe jet ski, hike, tour the island on a quad or go horseback riding.  The finale of his vacation would be a couple more days of relaxing, eating, and drinking.  Through it all he would have brought us a lot of joy and laughter.

Each night as we witnessed the most beautiful sunset, I thought of Dave and how much he would have loved it.  I’m sure he was with me in spirit! 

 

When Dave came back from the Marshall Islands, we planned a family trip to Aruba for the upcoming fall.  On our way to the airport for his fateful time at the Survival School, I mentioned how I’d like to ride horseback along the beach in Aruba, but I didn’t want to do it alone.  Dave said, “I’ll do it with you, Ma.”  No-one else was really interested.

After Dave died and the trip was cancelled, I couldn’t see myself planning another trip to Aruba.  But when I wanted to do something special for Rob and his girlfriend, Jessica, for all of their help with my move to NY, I decided now was the time to plan the trip. We decided to complete my long-ago wish and go horseback riding in Aruba. 

Aruba is a spectacular place to visit, but riding through this desert island reminded me so much of our ride in the canyons of Utah. The landscape in Aruba is mostly scrub brush, rocks, sand, and cactus; just like Utah.  As we trotted along, I couldn’t help but think of Dave; both in Utah and in Aruba.

We stopped to rest at the Alto Vista Chapel, which overlooks the sea and provides a panoramic view of the entire island.  The serenity and beauty of the grounds of this lovely little chapel was another perfect place for Dave.

So I guess Dave and I did go horseback riding in Aruba.

 
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After Dave’s stint in the Marshall Islands, Rob invited him to stay upstate with him.  Dave jumped at the chance to share some brotherly companionship.  He promptly set up his room–or should I say “cave?”–with all his favorite wall hangings.  He committed to becoming a New Yorker and settled in with good books and new projects to work on with Rob.  He was content.  He would sit on Rob’s deck and soak in his surroundings and was inspired often to write about it.  They had lots of plans, but after the Survival Course he wanted to take.

He knew how much I enjoyed the peace and quiet of the woods at Rob’s.  It was my go-to place when I needed a break from life.  So when I retired to a house just a short walk from Rob, I could just imagine Dave smiling down at me.  During the move, I came across a drawing Dave made when he was 9 or 10.  He had written on it, “My house someday.”  It was a house in the woods that looked so much like either Rob’s or my house.  I have it framed in my living room.

During my first weeks here, it seemed like a community of butterflies were seeking us out; some as large as small birds.  One in particular hitched a ride on Molly’s back during one of our first walks here after the move.  With each season, I say, “Dave would really love…the beautiful fall foliage, the gentle snowfall, the hummingbirds, the peeper frogs, the starry skies, the wildflowers,” and on and on.

In order to get to Glen Spey, we regularly travel through one of the most beautiful views; Hawk’s Nest, which is part of the Delaware Scenic Byway.  Of all the beautiful places here, this has the most dramatic view so I decided to sprinkle some of Dave’s ashes here, but the additional pictures show the beauty of the surrounding woods and the rivers.

When I sit on my deck with a book in my lap, listening to the sounds of the woods, how I wish Dave were here to share it with me.
 
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The Chateau de Chenonceau is a French chateau near the small village of Cheonceaux in the Loire Valley of France.

There are many beautiful chateaux in the Loire Valley, but in my opinion, Chenonceau is the most stunning of all.  The grounds and gardens are magnificently manicured and the castle looks like it belongs in a fairy tale.  It sits across the fast-moving Cher River, which makes it very unique from the other castles.

Dave would have laughed at my several attempts to sprinkle his ashes out of one of the windows over the river.  The windows were closed and there were signs NOT to open them.  I could just hear Dave saying, “Go for it, Mom. Break the rules!”  I had an accomplice watching for the guards.  With a few failed attempts,  I finally opened the window, sprinkled his ashes, posed for the snapshot, and hurriedly closed the window just as a guard walked by.  My heart was pounding as I was trying to look so innocent.  I certainly didn’t want to be escorted out of the chateau.  Now Dave really would’ve laughed at that!

I’m sure Dave wouldn’t think a castle would be his kind of place, but he would definitely love the river since he could always be on the move, just like he was in life.  But it was the entire package that was so lovely; the river running under the castle and alongside the lovely gardens.

But most of all, I’m sure he’d love that his mother was a rebel!

 

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June 4th, 1944.  Utah Beach. Ninth Division Infantry, Medical Unit.  Battle for Cherbourg.  Capture. Starvation Hill. Train.  Prisoner of War–Kustrin. Liberated by the Russians. Travel to freedom.

As we were growing up, we didn’t hear very much about the war years.   As we got older bits and pieces were slowly revealed.  It wasn’t until I was an adult that I was able to coax details from Dad during some of our fishing trips.  By the time the grandchildren became teenagers, they, too, encouraged Dad to share his memories and he began sharing more of his experiences. We were dumbfounded with the stories of his capture and his life as a POW in a German camp.  It was hard to imagine what he went through, but his stories painted a vivid picture of what he endured; mostly frightening, some heartwarming, and, yes, some humorous.  Shortly before he passed away, we videotaped his recollections; not only of his battles in Germany, but also in North Africa.

After hearing these stories over the years, it became very important for me to retrace Dad’s journey from the D-Day landing on Utah Beach to his capture near St. Lo.  After providing all of the details needed for my guide to research the movements of his unit, we were ready to begin.

We began by standing on Utah Beach and imagining how this calm beachfront could be the same place that  was blood-drenched over sixty years ago.  This was a turning point for my father.  I felt it was definitely an appropriate place for Dave’s ashes—in memory of his Grandpa.

In our travels we stopped near a sheep farm.  As my guide was explaining the movement of the troops, an elderly gentleman walked up to him with a slight scowl on his face asking why the guide was pointing at his property.  When the guide explained that my father marched through this area on D-Day, the man turned to me with tears in his eyes, shook my hand with both of his hands, and said, “merci, merci, merci!”  The guide later told me that this man was just a small boy on D-Day, but he remembered the Americans coming through and how much he appreciated what the Americans did for France.  He also pointed out where the Medical Unit set up a temporary hospital.

Over the years, my Dad would say he was captured near St. Lo.  It was actually a little town called le Desert.  Some of the town’s buildings still have bullet holes in the stucco. There were so many stories during the day that touched me more than I can say.  But none more than when I was standing by the field where my Dad was captured.  I absorbed the peaceful silence while imagining the abject fear of the men as they were rounded up in the early morning hours.  Dave’s ashes are here, also, along with one of my father’s medals.

Dad’s capture was just the beginning of the next chapter; his experiences travelling to the prison camp, his life as a prisoner, his liberation, and finally his journey by foot, bicycle, cart and train to make it to freedom.

Memorial Day—the perfect time to remember my two favorite veterans; my Dad and Dave!!

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As a young girl, I always dreamed that one day I would travel to France.  Since none of my friends or family shared this dream, I realized no-one was responsible for making MY dreams come true.  It was up to me to make it happen. 

This lesson was taught to me by the way Dave lived his life.  Nothing would stop him from experiencing what he wanted to do—even if he had to do it alone.  So I concentrated on improving my communication skills and faced my fear of getting lost. That combination was certainly daunting and quite a challenge!

I wanted to combine my long-time wishlist places, but also to recreate my father’s journey in Normandy on D-Day (next post) and make a visit to Claude Monet’s gardens in Giverny.  Shortly after Dave’s death, one of Dave’s close friends, Krissy, visited the gardens during her honeymoon.  She remembered Dave that day by placing one of his funeral cards under a willow tree in the gardens so I definitely wanted this to be one of the places I visited.

Claude Monet designed and created the beautiful gardens in the rural town of Giverny.  The love of his gardens is clearly evident in the lovely water lily paintings and the famous Water Lily Pond, which is pictured above.  There were hundreds of varieties of flowers and trees; dahlias, nasturtium, sunflowers, bell flowers, to name a few, but none more beautiful than his famous water lilies.   It was here from the bridge at the Water Lily Pond that I sprinkled the tiniest bit of Dave’s ashes.  It is probably the most well-known painting by Claude Monet.  Whenever I see it now, I think of Dave. 

Maybe you will, too.

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A glass bottom cable car delivered us 3.5 miles, the longest cable car ride in Asia, to the top of the mountain of the Po Lin Monastery where the Tian Tan Buddha presides.

The 98 ft tall Buddha overlooks the spectacular mountain views with his giant hand raised delivering a blessing to all.   Millions of visitors visit the Buddha to light incense, say prayers, and make wishes.  It is not a simple task as there are 268 steps to reach the base of the Buddha.

Part of the Buddhist belief is to live in the “now;” something I’m just learning myself—mostly from Dave and how he lived his life. 

This amazing spiritual place was another perfect spot to spread Dave’s ashes.  I sprinkled his ashes onto the mountainside in the lovely flowers below and made my wishes.

This was the last place in China where I  sprinkled Dave’s ashes.  As the plane heads home for our 15 hour flight, I feel sad leaving Dave behind once again.  But part of me smiles knowing that Dave would think how cool it was that a little bit of him rests in such fantastic places in China.

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