On a quiet street near Emory University, where the yard signs typically say "Obama" or "War Is Not the Answer," David Maddlone's lawn display definitely stands out.

The Druid Hills resident has turned his front yard into a D-Day tribute. Forty-two white markers spread out across his putting green-neat lawn to form a replica of part of the military cemetery in Normandy, France, where Allied forces hit the beaches 64 years ago this week.

Mikki K. Harris/AJC (ENLARGE)

David Maddlone's front yard in Druid Hills becomes a partial replica of the Normandy American Cemetery every Memorial Day.

RELATED LINKS: • More photos David Maddlone's D-Day memorial will be on display until June 16 at 1803 Ridgewood Drive in Druid Hills. Web site for the project: www.dday 0606.org LIVING Latest Headlines: Secluded Georgia refuge takes in misfit gorillas  Decatur First Baptist keeps woman in the pulpit  Zoo Atlanta's gorillas include numerous old-timers  Atlanta conference examines institution of marriage  World's oldest polar bear dies at Canadian zoo  • More Living Stories • Living photo galleries • Georgia Aquarium news and photos • Zoo Atlanta news and photos

Each marker bears the name of an American killed in the invasion and is decorated with French and American flags. Overhead, loudspeakers softly play music from the World War II years.

"I didn't want this to be a nuisance to my neighbors," Maddlone says, as Frank Sinatra croons "Night and Day" over the faux graves.

As he jokingly told a newcomer to the street last year, "You didn't know you were moving in next to a cemetery."

Maddlone, a 49-year-old information technology specialist at Emory, is something of a serial memorializer.

Seven years ago, he erected a 16-foot-tall model of the World Trade Center in memory of the people killed in the 9/11 attacks. He built the D-Day tribute in 2004, using scrap plywood from his version of the Twin Towers. The display usually goes up on Memorial Day and stays up for three weeks. It all goes back in his basement on June 16.

Inspired by a movie

Despite his closely cropped hair and trim military bearing, he is not a veteran. His father did not fight in World War II, although other relatives did.

Maddlone credits a film as inspiration. He was moved by Steven Spielberg's D-Day drama, "Saving Private Ryan" — especially by the closing scene in which a much older Ryan returns to France to visit the graves of the men who saved him.

"A lot of veterans can't go to Normandy," Maddlone says, "so I decided to re-create part of it here."

He contacted the American Battle Monuments Commission, the federal agency that maintains U.S. military cemeteries overseas, and learned the details of the Normandy cemetery: the size of the markers, the spacing, the precise way the names are displayed.

Using foam and a heat gun, he fashioned 41 white crosses and one Star of David (on which he places stones, just as they did in the movie). He also erected seven flagpoles, a sign explaining the display and a tiny shack where visitors can sign a guest book and take away literature about the real cemetery, where the remains of 9,387 servicemen and women are interred on bluffs overlooking the English Channel.

Maddlone's black-and-white cat, Christopher, patrols the grounds. At night, red, white and blue lights hanging from the eaves of the house set off the patriotic scene.

"I didn't do this to glorify war," explains Maddlone, who is divorced and lives alone. "I did it because I want people to remember."

He professes ambivalence about the current war in Iraq, and says the "Impeach Bush" sign a couple of doors down doesn't bother him.

Connecting with visitors

In five years, Maddlone has heard nothing but positive reactions to his makeshift memorial. His guest book is full of heartfelt thank-you's.

One Emory co-worker took a look and said, "You'll never see anything like this on the Quadrangle."

Another visitor, an old man wearing a veterans cap, lingered over the markers for a long time one rainy afternoon. When Maddlone went out to speak with him, the man pointed at a couple of the names on the crosses and said, "These were two of my friends."

On a recent afternoon, a car stops out front and three elderly women get out.

Arlis Wyatt of Decatur wanders through the markers for a few minutes and confides that it all looks too familiar to her. Her husband, John Wyatt, a Marine who took part in three landings in the South Pacific, died in 2006 and is buried in the new Georgia National Cemetery in Cherokee County.

"He would like this," she says, motioning toward the crosses. "He would like it that someone went to this much trouble to remember."