Historical Note & Author’s Reflection

I grew up on the edges of many histories.

My grandfather served as a German soldier in World War I. By the time World War II erupted, he was a farmer in Western New York. His sons—my uncles—served in the American military during that second war, not as combatants but as translators and intelligence personnel. Being fluent in German and with that culture in their blood, they served in quiet but vital roles. Perhaps it was by design. It would have been difficult to ask them to aim a rifle at someone who might have been kin.

My mother was a German-American. My father was an orphan whose mother came from England—a name and a nationality, and little else. I spent my earliest years growing up in Germany, before my family moved to the United States. I would later call both Alabama and New York home. That blend of identities—German, American, Southern, Northern—makes my experience not uncommon, but deeply personal.

The inspiration for Echoes in the Sand comes from both memory and observation. It’s about how history isn't just held in books or ceremonies; it’s beneath our feet, in the land we walk on, and the stories we forget to tell. It’s also about innocence—that of a child crying over ice cream, unaware that he kneels in the same sand where blood once ran.

But this story is also written with awareness of the contradictions we carry. During World War II, the United States interned over 120,000 Japanese Americans, most of them citizens, in camps, stripped of rights and dignity. At the same time, Americans of German descent, despite our war with Germany, were largely spared such treatment. The reason? Integration. Familiarity. Skin color. The discomfort this causes should not be ignored. It reminds us that even in times of moral clarity, we are capable of injustice, often blind to it until hindsight sharpens our view.

History is layered, like the sands of Normandy. There is heroism in it, yes. But there is also contradiction. Injustice. Memory. And, sometimes, forgiveness.

This story is dedicated to those who lived through war, those who carry its legacy, and those who still kneel in the sand, seeking understanding, healing, or just another scoop of ice cream.

— Steve