Franca probably didn’t look quite that good when Dad
brought her home. And in the 70+ years of her existence, as she was
passed from me to my daughter, Catherine, and from her to my granddaughter,
Sophie, she’s had some unfortunate mishaps and has been involved in some pretty
rough play, some of which involved a young brother. Suffice it to say
that in order to look as good as she does today, she’s had to have “work” done.
But Franca remains for me an important souvenir not only of World War II, a
watershed moment in world history, but also of an international encounter that
would alter the life of one American soldier. That soldier was my father.
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