It's Remembrance Day long weekend here in Canada. Poppies are everywhere to be seen. Some people flash them smartly on hats and bags, others on scarves, and then on lapels, the most popular place to house them. Canada does a really good job remembering the Veterans of both world wars. It is a major event over here, and one I have come to really appreciate over the years. Veterans proudly displaying their war medals sell the poppies, and a little story or two... Streets are littered with them, as they fall off easily, unless you safety pin them on. Every time I see them on the ground, covered in dirt, it reminds me of the poor soldiers who too fell to their death.
Televisions and radios keep blasting out the "Last Post" - the saddest, most haunting of bugle sounds. Just listen to it...for me, it symbolises death, sadness and loss. But to the soldiers it symbolised the end of the day, and to those still out fighting and not accounted for, it was a call to find safety and rest.
I have a special Remembrance Day outfit. Each year I take it out and wear it, specially for the occasion. It is a black and white houndstooth patterned jacket. It is German made, so it is very well constructed. I wear it with a long black dress, and then a contrasting patterned black and white silk scarf with red trim. It makes the red poppy Pop! I guess you could say I look like a newspaper - black and white, and read all over haha!! I should be more sombre - but I hate WARS!! such a waste of talent, money and lives. Such a waste...
Newspapers around this time have wonderful stories of heroes and heroines from the wars, which I always enjoy reading, and photos taken from the archives of handsome young men, sadly taken, before their lives were properly lived. It is a sad time. My favourite story this year was about a French girl called Giselle. A local Pharmacist found her photo amongst his late father's belongings, and decided to delve deeper. His father was an airforce pilot in WW2. Apparently his plane was shot down in France. The survivors, one of whom was his father, were rescued by a French farming family.
Giselle the 17 year old daughter of the farmer was very kind to the men. Reading between the lines, it would appear, there was an unrequited love story between Giselle, and the writer's father. He traced her all the way to France. Giselle was now a tiny, sprite little woman in her 80's, and a retired teacher. It didn't say whether she had married, but it would appear not. The writer of the article found it bizarre that Giselle had a photo of him, taken when he was a baby! What a great love story this could have been...
Every year on Remembrance Day, a new love story is unfolded...The message this year, which I heard loud and clear, was to start talking to veterans, listen to their story - before it is too late to be heard. The number of veterans is dwindling each year, until soon, there will be nobody left to tell their story.
I cannot say 'Happy Remembrance Day', because it would sound like an oxymoron, and wars are not something to be happy about... But in true Pollyanna style, I have to find something to be glad about. I am glad we get the day off!! and that in 2 hours time d.v. we will be at the airport welcoming our darling Claudia back from 'Down Under'.
Yeah! So without further ado, I'd better go and get ready...
Choo Choo for now!
Patricia xxx
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