High on a headland above the Golden Gate -- where the Pacific Ocean spills into San Francisco Bay -- stands the California Palace of the Legion of Honor, an art museum dedicated to the thousands of soldiers who lost their lives during World War I.

Jim Sanders had only been there once, on opening day, November 11th, 1924. It had been a painful, emotional day for him; some of the men he knew during the war had died in the trenches and on the battlefields of France.

In the following years Jim hadn’t returned to the Legion of Honor, but with another war raging in Europe, and America edging closer to joining the fight, he worried that Josh would be called to arms. He wanted him to see this magnificent tribute to those who sacrificed their lives for freedom.

On a late summer day, as the ocean breeze climbed up the hill and streamed across the emerald green lawn, Josh and his father approached the great cavernous entrance to the museum. Jim Sanders looked up at the inscription above the towering pillars and read: “Honneur ET Patrie.” He turned to Josh and spoke in a hushed tone. “Those words mean Honor and Fatherland. This museum honors those who served and died for our country.”

Josh nodded and remained silent as they walked through the courtyard and into the Legion of Honor.

In the vestibule near the entrance a special book was on display. “That must be the Book of Gold,” said Jim as they walked over to the display.

“What’s the Book of Gold?” asked Josh.

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“The book that lists every name of every soldier in the State, some three and a half thousand, who died during the war.”

Josh saw the raw emotion on his father’s face as Jim Sanders slowly, reluctantly, turned the pages of the book, scanning the names of the dead. He didn’t mention any particular names, but his fingers began to tremble as he turned the pages. The book was large, a leather-bound volume with ivory-colored crosses applied to the front and back covers with gold stitching. The front cover was stitched with the title Our Sons 1914–1918. The pages were made of parchment and the quotes and names on each page were handwritten in black ink.

“They were the bravest men who ever lived,” Jim said, as he slowly leafed through the pages of the book. “They fought in the trenches, and sometimes died in them. I still remember digging those trenches; we used to joke that we were digging our own graves. For many of those men, they were. But when the moment came, they poured out of those trenches and went into battle like warriors, charging toward the enemy, an unbroken line of courage. God knows how I made it.”

Josh watched his father intently as he spoke. After he closed the book his father’s words were still ringing in his ears. It would be the first and last time that he heard his father talk about those men.

They left the vestibule and walked through the large, spacious rooms of the museum. Almost immediately Josh became captivated by the powerful, dramatic sculptures of Auguste Rodin, and many of the great oil paintings on display; classical, impressionist, post-impressionist, portraits, landscapes, seascapes…it came as a flood, a revelation to the young man who had been interested in sports, in girls, in his own physical prowess. He commented to his father: “You know Dad, when we first came in, after looking at that book, I felt sort of depressed, thinking about war and death. But I feel better now.”

Jim Sanders, seeing the sparkle in his son’s eyes, smiled broadly and patted Josh on the back.

“Then we came to the right place” he said, as they continued their tour through the Legion of Honor.