11:00 am on the 11th of the 11th
Today in Australia is Rememberance Day.
It is a day to commemorate the sacrifices of members of the armed forces and of civilians in times of war, specifically since the First World War. It is observed on 11 November to recall the end of World War I on that date in 1918. In Australia Remembrance Day is always observed on 11 November, although the day is not a public holiday. Services are held at 11am at war memorials in suburbs and towns across the country, at which "Last Post" is sounded by a bugler and a one-minute silence is observed (Thank you Wikipedia).
While I knew it was coming, I hadn't looked at the calendar today. The days have been blurring by lately, and I've nearly missed a couple of appointments because I have been slack in flipping my calendar over. What!? Time to turn the calendar page, AGAIN!?
I dropped Aeryn and Logan at daycare and made a quick trip to the mall to get some things and have a quick browse around. This quick browse will help me when I start to Christmas shop in the upcoming weeks. So I'm at the mall having a good look around, when I hear a bugle playing over the speaker system.
It's "Last Post."
Everyone slows down and stops walking. They stop talking. The mall becomes quiet and still. I stop too and check my watch, it's 11:00 am. I think, "Oh yeah, today must be the 11th. Already! Time is flying!" I've been pushing Ellen in her stroller, so we stop and listen to the sad notes of the bugle echo through the quiet mall. The bugel call ends and people stay still for a minute. Ok, time to remember....so I think about the young men who have fought during World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, Desert Storm, the War on Terror in Afghanistan and Iraq, and all the other unnamed, undeclared wars and military actions, that have claimed so many many MANY lives, and the lives yet to be claimed.
And, since I'm here in Australia, my thoughts return to World War I and Gallopolli and the sheer number (in terms of percentage per total population) of young Australian and New Zealand (ANZACS) men that were killed in the futile and wasteful battles there. I've read that some historians say that this was the moment when Australia became a country. When we are out driving through the little country towns, I see that they all have their own granite monument to those young men that died in The Great War, prominently displayed in their town center or park. When I see those momuments I think of the young men and their lost future. And I also think of the young men's mothers, fathers, and sisters and wives and children. Those left behind. I can feel their collective grief when I look at their tribute to their loved ones. I'm sure that they would rather have their son with them, rather than a cold monument. I'm sure the young men would rather have had a beer on their dusty farm, rather than their brief adventure and then death.
The silent minute passes.
People start to move.
Ellen squirms in her stroller.
We go back to shopping.
It doesn't seem so important now.
Lest We Forget.
When I got home from shopping, I had a message that my Uncle Pete had passed away. If I remember correctly, he was in the Army, I think I remember seeing a picture of him in a uniform. I loved him. He was a really good Uncle. He was a kind and compassionate man. He had a great sense of humor. He will be sorely missed by my Aunt Helen and his children and grandchildren. I will keep them in my thoughts and prayers. I wish I could be there to help.
I'll remember.
It is a day to commemorate the sacrifices of members of the armed forces and of civilians in times of war, specifically since the First World War. It is observed on 11 November to recall the end of World War I on that date in 1918. In Australia Remembrance Day is always observed on 11 November, although the day is not a public holiday. Services are held at 11am at war memorials in suburbs and towns across the country, at which "Last Post" is sounded by a bugler and a one-minute silence is observed (Thank you Wikipedia).
While I knew it was coming, I hadn't looked at the calendar today. The days have been blurring by lately, and I've nearly missed a couple of appointments because I have been slack in flipping my calendar over. What!? Time to turn the calendar page, AGAIN!?
I dropped Aeryn and Logan at daycare and made a quick trip to the mall to get some things and have a quick browse around. This quick browse will help me when I start to Christmas shop in the upcoming weeks. So I'm at the mall having a good look around, when I hear a bugle playing over the speaker system.
It's "Last Post."
Everyone slows down and stops walking. They stop talking. The mall becomes quiet and still. I stop too and check my watch, it's 11:00 am. I think, "Oh yeah, today must be the 11th. Already! Time is flying!" I've been pushing Ellen in her stroller, so we stop and listen to the sad notes of the bugle echo through the quiet mall. The bugel call ends and people stay still for a minute. Ok, time to remember....so I think about the young men who have fought during World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, Desert Storm, the War on Terror in Afghanistan and Iraq, and all the other unnamed, undeclared wars and military actions, that have claimed so many many MANY lives, and the lives yet to be claimed.
And, since I'm here in Australia, my thoughts return to World War I and Gallopolli and the sheer number (in terms of percentage per total population) of young Australian and New Zealand (ANZACS) men that were killed in the futile and wasteful battles there. I've read that some historians say that this was the moment when Australia became a country. When we are out driving through the little country towns, I see that they all have their own granite monument to those young men that died in The Great War, prominently displayed in their town center or park. When I see those momuments I think of the young men and their lost future. And I also think of the young men's mothers, fathers, and sisters and wives and children. Those left behind. I can feel their collective grief when I look at their tribute to their loved ones. I'm sure that they would rather have their son with them, rather than a cold monument. I'm sure the young men would rather have had a beer on their dusty farm, rather than their brief adventure and then death.
The silent minute passes.
People start to move.
Ellen squirms in her stroller.
We go back to shopping.
It doesn't seem so important now.
Lest We Forget.
When I got home from shopping, I had a message that my Uncle Pete had passed away. If I remember correctly, he was in the Army, I think I remember seeing a picture of him in a uniform. I loved him. He was a really good Uncle. He was a kind and compassionate man. He had a great sense of humor. He will be sorely missed by my Aunt Helen and his children and grandchildren. I will keep them in my thoughts and prayers. I wish I could be there to help.
I'll remember.