Should it be a statutory holiday?
What connection is there between the awful reality of death and destruction and the senseless waste of young lives that happens in every war and a day off work with pay?
My recollection from childhood is a sombre grey day . At two minutes to eleven we stood by our desks, bowed our heads and silently contemplated the awful sacrifice of war.
At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day,of the eleventh month, the promise was kept. Big Ben , the clock at the Parliament Buildings tolled eleven times. Radio carried the reverberating sound throughout the land.
To this day, my impression is that everything came to a halt .Workers laid down their tools.Cab drivers stood by their still and silent vehicles.No sound or movement disturbed the moment.
We were remembering the dead of the First World War.
The second war added hundreds of thousands more to their number. The manner of their deaths were not then fully understood. The survivors, who witnessed the full horror could seldom bear to speak of it. Neither their lives nor the lives of their families were ever the same again
Planes loaded with dynamite, directly hit, turning them into blazing infernos in the sky .Ships torpedoed,or bombed, throwing living men and boys into seas of blazing oil. Tanks blown apart along with the incinerated bodies of the young men inside. Submarines at the bottom of the ocean,waiting for depth charges to blow them apart.
What does any of that have to do with petitioning the government for a day off work with pay?
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
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3 comments:
I do not understand the need to make this a stat holiday. There are those that feel that if they were not working, they would attend the services that are performed to honour the day. I just look at the "Family Day" holiday that is supposed to make families do something together as proof this would not work.
Remembrance Day is really something different for everyone. For those that have a direct connection to the wars, it has different meanings to those that have no connection.
My paternal Grandfather was born in 1889 in Bolton, Lancs. He and his family moved to Canada in 1905. In 1915 as a young married man, he and his younger brother enlisted in the 91st Bttln CEF. Once they were posted in France, the 91st was broken up to supply fresh troops to various units. They ended up in the 21st Bttln and served in the Ypres battles. My Grandfather was gassed and received a gunshot wound to his left arm - which more or less was no longer usable. For him , this was his ticket home - alive but not whole. He went on to lead a normal life, his wife passed away in the late '20s - he remarried and they had a son - my father.
My Grandfather passed away in 1966 - I was not old enough to have a conversation with him about his experiences in France - not sure if he would have. He was a life-long member of the regiment that the 91st became. My father also joined that regiment. When I was old enough, I too put on the uniform of that regiment - 3 generations.
My father just passed away this past September. It falls to me now to make sure that my children understand the significance of the service that their great-grandfather and grandfather made. I wear my grandfather's battalion ring from the 91st as a constant reminder.
I don't need a day off to recognize this. I honour it in my own quiet way.
I will sign off as normal... Fuimus
but will add the motto of the Elgin Regiment, the unit that the 91st Bttln became
Officium primum (Duty First)
Services to honour the memory of those who died are held at so many places over such a range of time that there is no need to have the day off work to attend a service.
I do think the working world should pause for just a minute or two at 11:00 tomorrow, and remember those who died in war.
My Grandfather; Alfred Heard,fought in northern Africa during the first war.
A bomb exploded beside him and the other troops and then my Grampy was sentenced to silence.
His ear drums were shattered.He was given a medical discharge, and assorted medals.
He returned home and could not overcome the internal battles he now faced.
The horrors of war and deafness plagued him.
He became an angry young man.
My Grandfather decided a fresh start may change his outlook, so he came to Canada.
My Grandmothers last words to him before he left were "write when you get work"
He never did.
My Grandmother,with baby and toddler in tow, also came to Canada.
She did not know for sure where he ended up.
Relatives had already made Aurora home, so she found her way to our town.
My Grandfather had secured a job here and when she found him I hope she kicked his butt.
My Grandfather was still lost and angry because the war separated him from community.
He was unable to hear but thank God he found new hope and friends.
That was at the Royal Canadian Legion on Yonge Street,
right by the Graystones of today.
My Grampy even volunteered in the second war.
He worked at the distribution center that was set up at the Fluery Implements works.
He served for his first home in England and here in Canada.
I am so proud of my Grandfather and know he looks upon me proud.
Proud that I want to share the story he was too ashamed to tell.
I just recently found pictures of my Grandfather on the wall of the Legion on Industrial Parkway.
I was only able to identify it was him, by the handwriting.
It was exactly like mine and I stood there in awe.
On November 11 at 11 am,I will remember my Grandfather and all those who stood up for our freedoms.
My heart will beat a little faster and I will struggle to listen.
I wonder sometimes if I am hearing challenged to honor my Grandfather.
It is just the way you look at things, that makes life special.
Thanks Grampy.....you did us all proud.
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