As part of my D-Day memorial, I sat upstairs at the 59th Street Food Emporium. I decline to call the bridge by its new name: the Ed Koch as no mere mortal has the grandeur and grace of that bridge. I wondered what the small cafe used to be in the old days. The architecture is breathtaking with tall windows reminiscent of expecting a brigantine to sail by. The arched sandy brick ceiling is a masterwork suited to a cathedral. There are free magazines on the tables to read while lunching on the tasty salad bar choices from the floor beneath. Traffic cops bring newspapers for their breaks. I read the June issue of Elle featuring Kristin Stewart. The article on her agreed with my assessment that she is a great actress. Anybody who doesn't think so hasn't seen one of her indie movies. It's coincidental that this week I came upon a mystery by a Japanese/American writer set during WWII, Summer of the Big Bachi, and have been watching Land Girls on Netflix from the same time period. The death of Ray Bradbury added to my nostalgia. During the war my family was living in the Azores where the fighting seemed very close to my impressionable mind wary of thunderstorms and flares in the night. I wore a medal of the Queen of Heaven to protect me like a silver splinter of armor and prayed for the good fortune of all the world's children. June 6th is always a contemplative day for me. Ray Bradbury would have appreciated how it travels from long ago to right now carrying simultaneously with it all the intensity of loss and endurance and looking towards a bright tomorrow. Peaceful memories to you, also.