Listening to History: A Year of Voices, Connection, and Purpose

A few weeks ago, as I was writing personal notes on Christmas cards, my mind wandered to each of the people I was addressing.

With each name, memories surfaced; a shared moment, snippets of a conversation, a story entrusted to me. I felt such awe and gratefulness—and a deep sense of purpose. It dawned on me what an incredible year it’s been!

Let me back up a little. Ever since I published Wings of Freedom, people have come to me and shared their memories of the airlift, their thoughts, their emotions. With each one, I thought to myself, someone ought to collect these stories. They won’t be around forever. When I voiced that thought to friends, they would inevitably give me a look. You know, that look that said, ‘well duh, why don’t you do you?’ Or, ‘Hello? You already write books, why don’t you ...?’

So, I let it sit with me for a few months. I pondered it. I considered what it would look like. How I would go about it. What if I actually did it?

The idea didn’t go away. On the contrary, it began to settle down inside of me. Take shape. Persist. I felt, once again, just like when I was writing Wings of Freedom, like I was being pulled forward. Called to do it, to take it on as a new book project.

So, earlier this year, I made a conscious decision to move forward. I gave it a name — Voices of the Berlin Airlift — set to work, and began collecting airlift stories ... from airlift children, from veterans, families, and other people who have a connection to the airlift even today.

At the time, I didn’t know where this decision would lead. I still don’t as it is continually unfolding in new and unexpected directions. I only know that these stories, the memories, matter, and that preserving them feels important — and that it is something I must do.

Looking back over this past year, I can see how much began to shift once I made that decision. Opportunities that I hadn’t actively sought presented themselves. Moving forward with the ‘Voices project,’ feels like I am living what W. H. Murray once observed about commitment — that when one truly commits, things begin to align in ways we couldn’t have planned.

I interview people who remember. I look at old photos, receive handwritten notes, and typed recollections. I take pages and pages of notes, I record and transcribe, and I write and write ... Every encounter is filled with emotion, reflection, and trust. And I know, these conversations will stay with me long after they end.

I made many connections this year. Many of them with the help of others who believe in the importance of the project and want to support it. I spent a couple of months in Germany interviewing airlift children. I met a 102-year-young airlift veteran right here in Florida. He even put on his uniform for our interview!

Their stories are shared not as history lessons, but as lived experiences, some joyful, some painful, all deeply human.

Through their voices, something has become very clear to me: history truly matters! Not as dates or timelines we must memorize, but as the foundation for understanding the world in which we live.

When we listen to personal stories, history becomes tangible. It invites empathy. It helps us understand not only what happened, but why it mattered, and how it affects and shapes our lives today.

Understanding history creates compassion. Compassion for the people who came before us. For the circumstances they lived through. For the choices they had to make. And in the case of the Berlin Airlift, it also reminds us how shared hardship and cooperation helped shape bonds between nations that continue to influence the world we live in today.

I am deeply grateful to everyone who has shared their memories with me this year. Voices of the Berlin Airlift is still unfolding, but its purpose feels clearer than ever. I want to capture the human side of the airlift. Many books have been written about the airlift and the logistical miracle it represents. With Voices of the Airlift, though, I want to show something even more enduring: the power of human connection, cooperation, and courage during extraordinary times — and what becomes possible when people choose to work together.

I truly cherished writing those Christmas cards because in doing so, I relived the interviews, the new friendships, and the trust that was placed in me.

I realize now that this project is not just about preserving memories. It’s about stewardship. About listening carefully. About carrying stories forward so they continue to inform, connect, and inspire — not only as reflections of the past, but as guideposts for the present.