Three weeks ago, nearly 80 years after his cousin stormed a beach in France during an invasion that changed the course of World War II, Ken Georgevits of Concord dusted off a long-forgotten box in his basement and was shocked by what he found.

Sure, the usual stuff you might discover in storage was in there. Like a family wedding album and a newspaper advertisement offering tomatoes for just a few cents.

But Georgevits kept digging and came across a short newspaper blurb, faded and wrinkled.

“It was belatedly announced that Private Sam J. Castorani was seriously wounded August 8 at St. Lo, France. He was hit D-Day on the Normandy shore, but remained in ranks after first aid treatment. Mrs. Mary Castorani, wife of the wounded soldier, has received all his decorations, including a Purple Heart with oak leaf cluster, a presidential citation, a combat badge, an expert infantryman’s badge and one major battle star.”

Georgevits never knew the extent of Castorani’s war record, and that’s when guilt began to creep into his thoughts. Its presence has been felt more acutely in recent days, leading up to Veterans Day on Saturday.

“I have no idea who cut the article out, or when they cut it out,” Georgevits said. “I don’t think there is a date, but it matched the story he told me well enough and completely. It’s so clear to me now.”

Technically, Castorani and Georgevits were second cousins, but the two spent 15 summers together and were close. To Georgevits, Castorani was forever known as Uncle Sam.

Decades ago, when Uncle Sam gave Georgevits a brief summary of his experience during the war, Georgevits – incredulous because veterans from that era have been known to exaggerate – quickly discarded the information and moved on with his life.

He would join the Navy soon after, in 1988, the year his cousin died at age 75, but hadn’t when Castorani gave him a glimpse of his wartime background. Georgevits said that might have made a difference, may have piqued his interest more if he had already joined the military.

“It’s possible,” Georgevits said. “But I didn’t follow it up.”

That’s why Georgevits stepped forward this month, to offer some advice to children of veterans: listen to them. Appreciate them. Dig deeper while you have the chance. Castorani died 35 years ago.

Castorani was ordinary in civilian life, a produce manager at Stop and Shop. In World War II, however, he was extraordinary.

“Now, I can’t ask him,” said Georgevits, 68. “I feel guilty that I did not do more research and I should have. It’s not like I did not have the time. It just didn’t dawn on me. Then when you see it brought to life with this article, you see history.”

It’s a common story. A father becomes a history book, a vital resource with knowledge about something that’s hard to wrap your brain around, but his experience falls on deaf ears.

That’s what happened here.

“Quite frankly, I thought that everyone says they were at Omaha Beach,” said Georgevits, referring to one of the five landing points as the Allies tried to push the Nazis out of France on June 6, 1944. “The skeptic in me said, ‘Sure, sure,’ and I just never talked about it after that.”

Ironically, Georgevits was a military man himself. He was in the Navy, an aerospace engineering officer and Naval systems commander providing material support for aircraft and airborne weapon systems.

He served in Haiti and Spain. He coordinated military honors at 1,500 funerals and was in charge of the 10 inaugural balls staged shortly after Barack Obama was elected president.

But Castorani’s background never resonated with Georgevits until it was too late. He wants you to avoid the same fate.

Inquire. Listen. He looked at a photo of Castorani holding Georgevits’ daughter, Stephanie, 39 years ago, a baby at the time.

“That’s when I get teary-eyed,” Georgevits said. “I wish I wasn’t such a skeptic. I would have had so many questions. I would have asked this and I would have asked that, but I didn’t.

“And now I can’t go back.”