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<\/a>On November 11 this year, I reposted last year\u2019s article<\/a> that I was inspired to write after witnessing the gradual evolution of a Canadian cultural ritual around Remembrance Day (Veteran\u2019s Day, Armistice Day) that took place at my local cenotaph. \u00a0As you might expect, this year I took my lunch break early, since I was working at the bookstore, and when my men came to fetch me I went over to the cenotaph again, shoveling a sandwich in my face so that I would be free for the ceremony.<\/p>\n There had to be twice the number of people who were there than last year. \u00a0I recognized the lovable dog I\u2019d patted and the cute little girl in the pink jacket I\u2019d smiled at; who was now a little taller. \u00a0This time the cenotaph gate was still locked, but there was a scuffed poppy wreath already laid in front of it. \u00a0My friends and coveners, who were there last year, came back as well, everyone with a poppy and a look of determination. \u00a0I scanned the crowd and the gate for the elderly veteran whose words had so moved me last year; but he wasn\u2019t there. Then Jamie nudged me and pointed. \u00a0\u201cLooks like the people might force them to bring it back to the cenotaph,\u201d he said. \u00a0\u201cCheck it out; we have cops and everything.\u201d<\/p>\n It was true. \u00a0This year, three uniformed police officers were standing to one side of the gate. \u00a0I recognized the tall, blond female officer as one of those who\u2019d come\u00a0when my store was broken into a few years ago. \u00a0I smiled hello at her. \u00a0Their poppies were affixed in their uniform hats, as is proper.<\/p>\n To the other side of the gate was a boy in a white shirt and tie, with a red jacket thrown over it because it was really cold; a frost lay over the grass. \u00a0A woman who was obviously his mother stood next to him, holding what was clearly a music sheet. \u00a0He was carrying a bugle, and touching it to his mouth periodically to keep it warm.<\/p>\n My heart glowed. \u00a0If you\u2019ll remember<\/a>, the veteran from last year said before we began our two minutes of silence, \u201cSince it seems that they have not provided us with a bugler today, I shall blow my whistle.\u201d<\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t the only one looking for the elderly soldier from last year; a man who had obviously been just a boy when he went to war. \u00a0But we didn\u2019t see him. \u00a0We did see a Navy veteran with his medals and his dress blues, standing unobtrusively to the rear of the cenotaph; just part of the crowd like everyone else.<\/p>\n One of the police officers made a pointing gesture to a man who\u2019d come to stand in front of them. \u00a0He was thin, dirty and scuffed, and looked to me like he might be homeless. \u00a0I didn\u2019t hear what the cop said to him, but I clearly heard his reply as he stood up and pointed proudly to the medals on his chest. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m wearing my father\u2019s World War II medals,\u201d he announced, \u201cand I\u2019ve come to honour him today.\u201d \u00a0It occurred to me that medals can be sold for cash, and he was pretty thin. \u00a0My heart swelled with pride.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat time do we have?\u201d someone asked.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s five to,\u201d answered someone who was looking at their phone.<\/p>\n At that point a woman came forward. \u00a0She was wearing a blue winter coat and she had a lime green computer tablet. \u00a0\u201cI have a poem I\u2019d like to share.\u201d \u00a0And she read a heartfelt poem I\u2019d never heard before about the sacrifices of the soldiers and the point of remembrance. \u00a0Everyone listened attentively and applauded the tearing-up woman when it was finished.<\/p>\n Someone looked at their watch. \u00a0Two city busses pulled up to the terminal. \u00a0Both drivers got out and stood with us in their yellow safety vests, with their blood-red poppies making a clear contrast against them at the breast. \u00a0So did all the passengers.<\/p>\n Suddenly a tall man whom I hadn\u2019t noticed before bellowed in the voice of a drill sErgeant: \u201cPARADE DETAIL! ATTENTION!\u201d<\/p>\n The police officers stood to attention. \u00a0We all took off our hats. \u00a0The boy shuffled off his jacket.<\/p>\n \u201cTwo minutes of silence begins; NOW!\u201d<\/p>\n The boy began to play \u201cThe Last Post,\u201d faltering a little in places because of the cold. \u00a0Remembering the veteran from last year, and the words to \u201cThe Green Fields of France,\u201d my eyes teared up. \u00a0I heard a rumble in the sky and looked up to see the annual Remembrance Day flypast in the form of four small\u00a0biplanes.<\/p>\n Nobody said a word; not even the dogs or the children.<\/p>\n When the last note of the bugle faded, the \u201cdrill sergeant,\u201d whom I was later told was yet another war veteran (though I imagine of our most recent, Middle Eastern conflicts,) cried out, \u201cPARADE DETAIL; AT EASE!\u201d and the officers clicked their heels and came to a parade rest.<\/p>\n \u201cWe invite you to come and lay your poppies on the cenotaph to honour the veterans,\u201d announced one of the male officers; and the female constable opened the gate and approached the cenotaph, still in parade formation. \u00a0She saluted the monument and laid her poppy at its foot; then filed out. \u00a0Jamie and I stepped in behind her and doffed our hats again. \u00a0As is our custom, we laid our offerings,and our poppies, at the foot of the monument too; corned \u201cbully\u201d beef, a small flask of rum, and two cigars; a good day for a fighting soldier. \u00a0As we passed the bugler we both patted him on the shoulder and said, \u201cGreat job; thank you.\u201d \u00a0When we got around the cenotaph we found the blond cop and the Navy veteran standing side by side. \u00a0We shook their hands and thanked them too. \u00a0I bowed a little to the distinguished Navy veteran, not knowing what else to do. \u00a0And one by one, all the people \u2014 maybe fifty, maybe seventy of us \u2014 did the same. \u00a0Soon maybe a hundred poppies, red like shed blood, red like the colour of life, splashed the base of the cenotaph.\u00a0\u00a0And then,with another shout, the parade filed out.<\/p>\n Everyone milled around afterwards, not wanting to leave. \u00a0Then the bugler-boy\u2019s mother asked for attention; and when we gave it, she asked those who remembered to repeat the words with her; the ones that come from the poem \u201cFor the Fallen\u201d<\/a> by Robert Laurence Binyon. \u00a0Because of that wonderful elder army veteran last year, I remembered:<\/p>\n They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:<\/span> People stood there again together in the silence and solemnity, not sure of what to do next. \u00a0Then Jamie shrugged and said in his best Army voice, \u201cWell, somebody\u2019s got to bloody do it!\u201d \u00a0And again he doffed his hat, and I joined in immediately as his resonating baritone began to sing our national anthem<\/a>:<\/p>\n O Canada!<\/span> We sang it all together, hats off, with the military and police personnel formally saluting the flag. \u00a0\u201cWell, someone had to bloody do it,\u201d Jamie\u00a0said again when he was done, a little nervously. \u00a0And at that point we turned and left, with tears in our eyes; and there was not a dry eye in sight as several people quietly thanked him.<\/p>\n Erin said that somebody told him that the veteran whose spontaneous speech rallied us so much last year had passed on since. \u00a0I\u2019m so glad I had an opportunity to hear him speak. \u00a0I\u2019m so glad I took\u00a0my camera with me so that others will remember it too.<\/p>\n And the most beautiful part of all of this is that this was not rehearsed. \u00a0This was the power of the spirit that moved us all to come together spontaneously, at the place we felt was the right place to come, to share our usually-subtle Canadian patriotism, our deep appreciation of the huge and terrible sacrifice of war, and our solemn and endless gratitude for those who fight and put themselves in harm\u2019s way for our protection; especially those who paid the ultimate price.<\/p>\n Lest we forget.<\/p>\n First: Spontaneous Ritual \u2013 Lest We Forget<\/em><\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n\n
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.<\/span>
At the going down of the sun and in the morning<\/span>
We will remember them.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n
Our home and native land!<\/span>
True patriot love in all thy sons command.<\/span>
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,<\/span>
The True North strong and free!<\/span>
From far and wide,<\/span>
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.<\/span>
God keep our land glorious and free!<\/span>
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.<\/span>
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
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