A reflection on Remembrance Day
Posted Nov 19, 2009 By Mary Cook
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Tweet ThisEMC Lifestyle - Although the day has passed, the ceremonies on Remembrance Day broadcast on television, not only will stay with me for a very long time, they rekindled memories of another time in my life.
Forced to watch the ceremonies from my easy chair, rather than attending at Memorial Park in Carleton Place as I have done for decades, I had time later to reflect on what has always been a time filled with poignant thoughts of another era. (A bad fall has severely injured both my pride and several bones, including a few battered ribs, and a lot of hours are spent in my recliner as I recuperate).
I watched the faces of the dwindling number of Second World War veterans, and I picture my brothers, only one of whom is alive today, the day they each first came home proudly wearing their new uniforms. Emerson in Air Force blue, Everett and Earl in khaki. Had they been marching this year, their faces too would be wrinkled and worn, showing the marks of the passing years, and the pain of their own personal memories of a war that took them far from their home and loved ones when they were no more than young boys.
I never watch Remembrance Day services that I don't think of the loss of young lives and wonder at the terrible price they paid for our freedom. I often think my brothers joined because they were so sure what they were going to experience was a life of excitement and adventure. What they saw was terrible pain, destruction, and death. My brothers went into the armed forces young boys, and they came back men. And a whole chapter of their lives was lost forever.
But they came back. Thousands, many of whom we knew, didn't.
Another memory always surfaces when I watch the ceremony in our Nation's Capital. The monument around which the dignitaries, masses of people, and members of our present armed forces and veterans gather, has always been referred to as " Uncle Lou's monument".
You see, my mother's brother Lou was the contractor who was responsible for the marble in the monument.
I remember 1939 well. There was the tremendous urgency to finish the monument on time for the visit of the King and Queen, and at one point, Uncle Lou even took my father off the farm in Renfrew County to join the work crew and the frantic rush to have the job done before the Royal visit. What Father, a simple farmer from Northcote could contribute I will never know. I remember too that Uncle Lou boarded in a small hotel on Lyon Street...I remember little about the hotel, other than the loud-mouthed parrot that reigned supreme in the downstairs lobby yelling obscenities to anyone going through the door. At a very young age, I was much more interested in the parrot than the monument being built across from the Chateau Laurier Hotel.
My older and much wiser sister Audrey would hold my hand as we walked around the site of the monument, and she would try to impress on my young mind how in years to come I would reflect back on walking on the very same marble as would the King and Queen!
At the time I was much more interested in having a trip to Ottawa and having supper with my beloved Uncle Lou in his little hotel on Lyon Street. So you see why, even though I know now he was probably only one of several contractors, I call that place in our Nation's Capital, Uncle Lou's monument.
It is impossible for me to see the faces of those young members of our armed forces today and not wonder at their courage. Like my brothers, do they really know what is ahead of them? And I think of the terrible price they are paying.
We are constantly urged to support our troops. Wearing red on Fridays seems like such a small gesture. Likewise putting a sign in your window, or on your car confirming your commitment to our troops is another show of support. But is it really enough? There is no way we can walk with our troops through the battlefields and take their hands. About all we can do is say our fervent prayers that this terrible war will soon be over. How many more tears will be shed for the loss of yet another young life before this madness comes to an end? And so, as I watched the ceremonies in front of Uncle Lou's monument in Ottawa, I silently wept for those who lost their lives decades ago to assure us of our freedom. I wept for my three young brothers who had their childhood taken from them so many years ago, and I wept for the faces I saw in their uniforms, knowing some of them will not be here for the ceremonies next Remembrance Day and I again try to come to terms with the senselessness of war.
