Remembrance Day in
a Small Town
Late afternoon on
the 10th of November when Charles starts looking for the new can of Never Dull,
brings out the old toothbrush, the sliding thing he slips under medals to
protect the ribbons, and last of all the Medals and the small and precious
silver wings.
While he shines
and polishes (the spitting comes later when he does the shoes) I re-sew
the Squadron Emblem on the pocket of his jacket.
This is all in
deference to our slower pace, - time was when Remembrance Day morning was a
whirlwind of activity, but we move slower now, and find it best to start a day
early.
As we prepare, the
loss of Charles' two brothers in France and in Holland is ever present in our
thoughts.
And I think of my
father who was wounded at Cambrai a month before the signing of the Armistice
in 1918, and how the effects of that wound left him walking with a cane for the
last twenty years of his life.
Shortly after ten
o'clock on the 11th Charles is looking pretty handsome and spiffy for an old
Vet. He has received phone calls, e-mails and loving hugs from children who
know how important this day has always been to him, and never fail to express
their love and understanding.
We leave the house,
hoping to get a parking spot close to where he will take part in the
Remembrance Day service by reading the Names of the Fallen and citing the Act
of Remembrance.
There is a cold
wind blowing. People begin to gather, well scarved and hatted - many of them
carrying wreaths. Friends and family stop to chat as we wait in the SUV for the
first signs of the Parade. The crowd grows thicker (the owner of the town's
grocery store says 400)
The Legion members
who will conduct the service test the sound system and attend to last minute
details around the Cenotaph.
There - we hear
the music which accompanies the parade and led by red coated RCMP (no horses
this year) the Colour Party, the Army Cadets, the Veterans who are still able
to march, the Legion members, our oldest son, Steve, a peacetime veteran, the Brownies and Guides and Cubs and Scouts, the
Elks, the Royal Purples and other Service Club members all right turn on to the
grass and march across
the park to the Cenotaph.
At one time the
row of Veterans was long, and stretched for over a city block. Now there are
only a handful in the Parade, a few more in wheelchairs and on crutches, but
all intent on honouring those of their dead comrades who once, in the now
distant past, were like brothers to them, still enshrined in their hearts.
The wind scatters
leaves and causes collars to be raised. Everyone takes their place, and the
service begins.
A wonderfully
strong voice leads the singing of O Canada. There are prayers, and a poem
written by a young student in the high school.
The Army Cadets
who stand at each corner of the Cenotaph lower their Arms and Charles reads the
Names of the Fallen Comrades.
The Bugler plays
the Last Post and the flag is lowered.
The two minutes of
silence is poignant, and heavy with emotion.
And after the
Lament and Reveille,
The Act of
Remembrance.
They shall not
grow old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, or the years
condemn.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we shall remember them.
The tribute to the
Fallen, the Laying of the Wreaths, the reading of a Remembrance poem and the
singing of 'O God, our Help in Ages Past'.
The wind comes in
gusts and chases the clouds around the sky, creating small gaps that allow a
little sunshine through. Fingers and toes grow cold but people remain to the
end, as they honour lost loved ones and those who died to make the present
moments possible.
After 'The Queen'
the parade marches off, - the crowd disperses and makes their way to the Legion
Hall. Charles and I linger to talk to family and old friends.
When we arrive at
the Hall we find a great long line-up of shivery people waiting for Hot
Rums....
There is Beef Stew
and wonderful warm Chili provided by the Legion.
Four long rows of
tables are crowded with adults, - next door at the Elks Home the children have
cookies and cocoa. People linger, talking, exchanging memories, up-dating news.
Gradually the crowd thins. Some people go home, - others make their way
downstairs for an afternoon of comradeship, old time tunes, dancing, a little
Karaoke and a wonderful air of good fellowship.
During the
afternoon the Legion Brass visit, the Mayor says a few words, - unfortunately
there are no pipers this year, but often we are included in their rounds of
various Remembrance Day services.
Years have passed
since our first Remembrance Days in this town, when the Veterans were young and
plentiful and glasses were raised to comrades just a few years dead.
In later years Charles and others took rum and comradeship during the afternoon to veterans
confined to their homes, coming back if not three sheets to the wind, at least
two and a half.....
Now the Veteran
finds himself a little 'out of the loop,' - honoured, and thanked, - questioned
and perhaps even held in awe in some cases, but very conscious of being of
another generation. Our appreciation is great for the Legion members who make
this Day so special, and for all who Remember....
Well, this is how it
is in one small town, and probably to a great extent the happenings would be
familiar in hundreds of other small towns.... a people expressing their sorrow,
their love and their need to pay honour to the Valiant hearts. And in doing so
gathering closer together.....
(The pictures are from yesterday, but many of the words are archived from a Remembrance Day post of 2008 - still relevant to the honour a small town pays to those who 'gave their todays for our tomorrows' )
