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Remembrance Day Thoughts

I watch the Remembrance Day ceremonies, gazing at the tired old men, almost all seated, some in wheelchairs, many with tears trickling down wrinkled, weathered cheeks; and at a mother, many years old, frailly bending down to lay a wreath in remembrance of the sons she gave, of all the sons lost to all those mothers in those long-ago wars; and at fresh young faces, cheeks red in the nippy November breeze, smiles on some, questioning wonderment on others...

And I am taken back, back into the body of a little six-year-old girl, dressed in plaid skirt and brown leotards, bundled in jacket and boots and mittens and scarf against the snow and the cold winter breeze; standing for, oh, such a long time, as the cold sifts in; standing in the schoolyard of a big, old red brick schoolhouse, before the grey stone cenotaph carved with names of unknown men, men whose families built the small community and gave their names to streets and roads, but who themselves built something much greater... The little girl looks up to her Daddy standing beside her, proud and tall, shoulders back, faded ribbons looking strangely out of place on his gray suit jacket; she looks in his face and sees emotions mingled there that suddenly make the whole day a warm and living event; that brings understanding to the hitherto strange ceremonies of Remembrance Day, to the weekly renditions of "O Canada" and "God Save the Queen" in school assemblies; to the very poppy that at this moment is poking its thorny tip into her shoulder; she hears his normally tone-deaf voice ring clear and true as he joins in those words, "O Canada, we stand on guard..."

And then I am pulled back to the present, as another little six-year-old girl stands beside me, saying "Mommy, mommy..." I look into her face, and see something of the face of that other little girl, and something of the face of that Daddy, now a Grandfather, and I wonder... how will she, and her sisters, and her brother, and all her generation... how will they know, how will they understand, how will they learn the words so that the songs not only utter from their lips, but swell from their hearts? I hope there is enough of the understanding left in the little girl now grown, that the little girl standing next to me can look in my face and find something of what I found, looking into my Daddy's face.

Date: mid 1990s

 


My name is Norma. I'm married to Lionel. We have 5 kids - Taryn, Sarah, Robyn, Wendy and Peter, and one grandchild, Tony. At the moment, I am teaching French and Home Economics at a Christian School. I also enjoy writing, reading, facilitating Christian study groups, exercise, gardening, playing guitar, and a multitude of other interests.

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