Lest We Forget

Whites Road, Highway Of Heroes.

No matter how you to look at it, people who make a living in uniform spend their careers preparing for events that we all hope will never happen. But bad things happen, and when it comes to the Military, I wonder if at various times in history we might have confused our feelings for the horrors of war with our feelings for the courageous Canadians who answered the call to arms. But I'm relieved to be part of a generation that has begun to reverse the trend of withholding pride.  I wish I'd never had to stand on the Whites Road overpass to pay my respects to fallen soldiers from Afghanistan, but I never want to forget the Canadians I met on those days; it turns out we are a fiercely proud lot, deeply moved by the plight of ordinary families in their darkest hour.

I was raised a Military Dependent, so respect for those who serve their country is something I learned firsthand.  My father chose his career path at an extremely young age, having to get written permission from both of his parents and his high school principal to join the Navy at just 17 years of age.  I remember as a preschooler - and a university graduate - seeing my Mom press my father's uniform shirts with such incredible care and detail that no dry cleaner anywhere could match her work.  I remember my father spit shining his shoes at night and taking the the adhesive lint picker to his perfectly creased uniform trousers after he got up from the breakfast table.  When he left the house every morning to go to work, he was impeccably put together to the letter of the dress regulations - without exception.  I thought this was the way the entire world worked back then.  When at the age of 11 we moved into a home that was not on a Canadian Forces Base, I was utterly confused to discover that other people's households did not include somebody in uniform.

Dad  receives a service commendation on the Bonnie, 1966.

If my Father's family is Canadian Armed Forces, my Mother's side is United States Army and Marine Corps. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws:  the uniform is everywhere in my family tree... and I couldn't be more proud.

So this morning I will attend Remembrance Day ceremonies and then make my way to my local Legion.  It's tradition, but perhaps also selfish.  I get to say thanks, which makes me feel good, and I get to hear veterans tell stories that rip my heart out or make me collapse in fits of laughter... or both.  There is an art to story telling, and I have yet to meet a veteran who hasn't mastered it.  Although on occasion rooted in the horrors of war, there is nonetheless always a light, a lesson, something to take away and use to make our own lives that much more meaningful.  I wouldn't miss it.

Today, please say thank you to anyone who has worn a uniform, be they military, police, fire, EMS, or any other branch of service.  Your gratitude will be warmly received, I assure you.