Remembrance Day

(Lots of updates. New movie, The Men Who Stare At Goats reviewed in Small Town Movies. Wendi talk about sex as an Olympic sport - curse you, Russian judges! - in her recent blog. Laura and her family have 'it'. The flu. Exactly what she's been dreading. Check them out!)


Every Remembrance Day chokes me up. Like clock work. I try to hold it together...after all, who am I to cry? I've never lost someone to a war. I've never had to say goodbye to a son, sending him off to something braver and bigger and more frightening than anything I will ever know. I've been blessed.

But I guess that's probably why I get choked up.

I just got back from a Remembrance Day assembly at the kids' school. It's one of those gorgeous November days that almost never happens. Sunny and clear and the exact right amount of coolness. I walked to the school and thought 'This is perfect'. The river runs under the bridge at my feet. Traffic is fairly light. Two police men stand in full dress uniform at the stop lights looking smart and serious. Everywhere I look - poppies.

I held it together through the assembly, despite the fact that the teachers let the grade fives run the show and they were so solemn and sincere. Despite the fact that Jack's favourite all time teacher came back from her retirement just to play the piano while the entire school sang 'Where Have All The Flowers Gone?' Despite the fact that each and every one of them, right down to fidgety little kindergartners, observed their moment of silence. It was as lovely as it is every year.

So what made me finally break down? The same thing that gets to me every year. Old soldiers in uniforms they've kept in pristine condition despite the fifty years or so. Standing erect, hand over heart, voices still strong. Singing O Canada. Saluting the cenotaph standing watch over the river. Proud and sad and strong and careful. It gets me every time.

And it makes me think of my grandfather. The way he would keep the television on all day to watch Remembrance Day services all over the world. How he would read the paper in his armchair then fold it carefully, rise and recite 'Flanders Fields' with his hand over his heart. His eyes closed to prove he still remembered every word. He died ten years ago tomorrow. He waited until Remembrance Day was over.

Lest We Forget.