Watching the last of the WWII veterans pass away brings me great sadness. Growing up they were always these men and women of such great legend it felt like they would be around forever.
One time when I was in the Bay Area, an old, short Asian man wearing a "World War II Veteran" cap boarded the BART. I silently wondered to myself if, due to his very short height, he had sat in the ball turret of a B-17.
Year or two later, there's a blurb on the national news about a man with a Japanese last name from about the right part of California, who died at the age of 95. Turns out, he was indeed a rear gunner on a B-17 crew.
Thank you for your service, old stranger. We met only briefly and never talked, but I'm glad our paths crossed.
This was how I felt when my grandfather passed in 2021. He was always my hero since he was first a Holocaust survivor and then was drafted at 16 to go back to Germany on D-day, where he almost drowned (his lander didn’t fully make it to shore and he couldn’t swim), and then was later caught by the Nazis. Just an insane story and connection to that period in time and once it’s gone, it’s gone. This is why i try to encourage everyone to keep chatting with your older folks before their time comes.
If you have the opportunity, I'd suggest go and visit the beach where your late grandfather landed.
Normandy is beautiful even without its rich history, but enriched with the Bayeux tapestry and the D-Day landing it's an amazing region.
After reading several by the minute historic acounts, I visited there. We were joined by a U.S.-American couple and our guide was a young French lady who pointed out many French were angry about the number of French people killed by the allied bombs that prepared the invation (in error, due to bad weather).
My late German grandfather was working as a prisoner-of-war for a nearby farm after the war, and spoke very fondly of a baby girl called "Francine" that he would sometimes babysit after his work; sadly, he could not recall the name of the village or the family (we tried to get in contact by phone in the 1990s), as he never spoke French. The farmers were very good to him, treated him like a family member, and later even funded his train ticket home.
And you are right, talking to seniors in order to preserve their memories good and bad is important and highly interesting. (Nodwadays, I'd recommend recording such conversations to secure the ability to transcribe the treasure stories provided of course folks consent.)
The phrasing in this sentence implies that the Julia language could be named for the code breaker, as much as it could be named for anyone else. In other words, it wasn't named for the code breaker, but it might as well have been.
The follow up comment gives hard quantitative fact that the language wasn't named for anyone or anything. I can see how both comments are correct, the first implicitly, the second explicitly
The first comment is, at best, pointing out a name collision. It's otherwise fairly meaningless yet misleading. Julia could be named for any Julia in the known universe... but it wasn't.
Watching the last of the WWII veterans pass away brings me great sadness. Growing up they were always these men and women of such great legend it felt like they would be around forever.
One time when I was in the Bay Area, an old, short Asian man wearing a "World War II Veteran" cap boarded the BART. I silently wondered to myself if, due to his very short height, he had sat in the ball turret of a B-17.
Year or two later, there's a blurb on the national news about a man with a Japanese last name from about the right part of California, who died at the age of 95. Turns out, he was indeed a rear gunner on a B-17 crew.
Thank you for your service, old stranger. We met only briefly and never talked, but I'm glad our paths crossed.
>We met only briefly and never talked, but I'm glad our paths crossed.
Poor guy probably was carrying a lot with him.
There is a famous poem[1] about ball turret gunners that immediately came to mind:
>From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
>And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
>Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
>I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
>When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Death_of_the_Ball_Turret_G...
Edit: Formatting
This was how I felt when my grandfather passed in 2021. He was always my hero since he was first a Holocaust survivor and then was drafted at 16 to go back to Germany on D-day, where he almost drowned (his lander didn’t fully make it to shore and he couldn’t swim), and then was later caught by the Nazis. Just an insane story and connection to that period in time and once it’s gone, it’s gone. This is why i try to encourage everyone to keep chatting with your older folks before their time comes.
If you have the opportunity, I'd suggest go and visit the beach where your late grandfather landed.
Normandy is beautiful even without its rich history, but enriched with the Bayeux tapestry and the D-Day landing it's an amazing region.
After reading several by the minute historic acounts, I visited there. We were joined by a U.S.-American couple and our guide was a young French lady who pointed out many French were angry about the number of French people killed by the allied bombs that prepared the invation (in error, due to bad weather).
My late German grandfather was working as a prisoner-of-war for a nearby farm after the war, and spoke very fondly of a baby girl called "Francine" that he would sometimes babysit after his work; sadly, he could not recall the name of the village or the family (we tried to get in contact by phone in the 1990s), as he never spoke French. The farmers were very good to him, treated him like a family member, and later even funded his train ticket home.
And you are right, talking to seniors in order to preserve their memories good and bad is important and highly interesting. (Nodwadays, I'd recommend recording such conversations to secure the ability to transcribe the treasure stories provided of course folks consent.)
Wow. That sounds like a real story. I hope you recorded it so future generations can know what your grandfather did.
Fortunately he was interviewed by the Shoah Foundation many years ago, so there is a video record of it.
Unfortunately i don’t think many people know about that Foundation and its efforts.
Fair Winds and Following Seas.
We have the watch.
https://youtu.be/jhwZwHaE5JE
[dead]
https://archive.is/Jqokr
no pay wall obituary https://obituaries.cremationofpennsylvania.com/obituaries/pi...
An enigmatic machine with mysterious clockworks inside and a keyboard.
That description is something to think about.
Julia is named for her as much as it is for anyone. RIP. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julia_(programming_language)
Nope[1]:
> Is Julia named after someone or something?
> No.
[1] https://docs.julialang.org/en/v1/manual/faq/#General
> ...as much as it is for anyone....
The phrasing in this sentence implies that the Julia language could be named for the code breaker, as much as it could be named for anyone else. In other words, it wasn't named for the code breaker, but it might as well have been.
The follow up comment gives hard quantitative fact that the language wasn't named for anyone or anything. I can see how both comments are correct, the first implicitly, the second explicitly
The first comment is, at best, pointing out a name collision. It's otherwise fairly meaningless yet misleading. Julia could be named for any Julia in the known universe... but it wasn't.
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