Let's get serious for a moment...or two...
I'm re-watching Band of Brothers. Again.
I've always been a bit of an amateur military buff, but it's been mostly with regards to the Navy and submariners. Look in my library and you'll find a whole shelf dedicated to military techno-thrillers involving the Navy. One of my favourite movies is Hunt for Red October, which I can watch over ad nauseum, and I also love Crimson Tide, Das Boot, etc. I don't know WHAT it is that captivates me about that subject, but I find it fascinating.
I remember watching Band of Brothers for the first time, maybe in 2003? not too long after it was released on DVD, about a year. Mike had seen it and really wanted to own it, so I bought it for him as a gift and sat down to watch it with him. Now, I'd seen war movies before - The Great Escape, Schindler's List, Saving Private Ryan, The Pianist - and I was no fool when it came to the realities of war. Yes, the Great World Wars were tragic and horrifying and changed the world forever. It destroyed lives and countries and ideals. However, watching Band of Brothers, for the first time, even moreso than SPR, led me to understand just what it was that the soldiers who fought in those wars experienced. How selfless they were, how patriotic and committed to their duties they were. And the fact that the people in the mini-series were REAL people added something indescribable. Yes, Schindler's List was based on fact as well, but there's something to be said about being in the trenches and watching your buddy beside be blown to bits.
Anyway, I really hold a strange fondness for soldiers in my heart, and I think part of that stems from the fact that I don't have any in my family. There's no direct association with the World Wars for me. My great-great-grandfather was a general in the German army (and before you ask, as everyone always does, NO, he was NOT a Nazi) but that's about as close as I get. Perhaps that's WHY my interest in all things WWI and WWII has grown and become deeper and more important to me.
In 2007, Mike and I went to Europe for a two week whirlwind tour. We went to France, and while i can honestly say that Paris holds NOTHING of real interest for me, my heart was captured by the French countryside, and we visited Vimy Ridge, Thiepval and Beaumont-Hamel, just three of the many MANY war memorials in that country. Of course, Vimy was very special to us. The most famous of the Canadian War Memorials, we spent a lot of time there, silent, wandering, imagining what it must have been like all those years ago. Today, it's all trees and lush green grass, but silent. And even now, just thinking about it, tears fill my eyes. To stand there, atop the ridge where hundreds of young men shed blood to protect their country and people and countries and people that were NOT their own is something too BIG to really understand. The countless names that were etched into the memorial were humbling and I was filled with awe that we could live in a world, in a country that doesn't remember these names better. Something inside wished, briefly, that I was connected to one of those names, so that it could all have MORE meaning to me, but I'm finding now, that I don't need to be directly connected. My love for Canada and all that makes it the "true north, strong and free" is enough. I'm indirectly connected and it's good enough for me.
April 9, 2017 will be the 100th Anniversary of the Battle of Arras and the Capture of Vimy Ridge. Mike and I plan to visit France again in 2017, and visit as many of the war memorials, Canadian or not, around the country - Normandy, Dieppe, Juno Beach, etc, and especially Vimy Ridge.
As I get older, I continue to think that not enough emphasis was placed on Canada's military history when I was in history class in high school. Or, maybe truthfully, at that age, I just didn't care about it. And I wish now that I did. I wish that Canada had the memory of Europe. Europe, with it's much older history, was wiser and slower. Canada was like a young child, quick to want and act, with no regard for what had been. Europe had made many mistakes in it's youth, and had learned much from it. Europe knew how to remember. Canada still has many lessons to learn. There are more memorials to the US and Canada in Europe than there are in North America. The Dutch, the French, they all remember the role that American and Canadian soldiers played in the shaping of their nations and freedom. They are better than we are. They teach it to their young, they make it mandatory in schools to visit concentration camps. They do not want their future to forget their past. It's so important.
Let me veer off on small tangent here for a moment. A couple of months ago, I was doing a show at Theatre Passe Muraille in the Back Space and the Main Space had a festival happening in it. After my show, I came out to find two friends, Kawa and Nina, who had just attended the festival. We talked and went out for some noms. We sat in Le Creperie, and had just been served some delicious savoury crepes, when Kawa put down his fork, looked at Nina and myself and said - with such sincerity and earnestness that I admit, we laughed - "We are so lucky. We can just sit here and eat crepes." Of course, he explained, that with all of the craziness that goes on in the world, we should truly count our blessings that we live in a country where we have no war, where we can get food whenever we like, and that we were healthy and happy. We dismissed it as a "silly Kawa" moment and ate our crepes.
Back to the present. I re-watched Band of Brothers, having some time on my hands, and I hadn't watched it in a long time. And afterwards, after 10 hours of watching a superbly talented cast recreate the lives of a company of heroes, I was truly moved. I spent the next few days reflecting upon these feelings and the stories that had been told. On beautiful, sunny days, I looked up at the blue skies and thanked God that I was alive. I sat on the subway and ruminated over the fact that I lived in one of the greatest countries of the world and had so much to be thankful for. I had never experienced hunger, poverty, war, disease. I've had colds, and gone without a meal or two, I've lived pay cheque to pay cheque, and had fierce arguments with friends and strangers alike, but all of that pales in comparison to what others in the world are living with. Or struggling to live with.
For the past few days, I've lived in a perpetual "silly Kawa" moment. I walk around and take in what is my "humdrum" life. I am so lucky. Lucky to be alive. Lucky to live in this country. Lucky to be spending my days playing pretend in a theatre. I GET PAID TO MAKE STORIES HAPPEN. I'm not an overtly emotional person. Quite often, I'm an angry, impatient one. But now...I'm starting to stop and breathe first.
I'm rehearsing a show right now, and Kawa is one of the cast members. I went to rehearsal, and immediately told him that I now know EXACTLY what he meant. We joked about how he helped me discover the heart I never knew I had, but I could tell that he was truly happy that I had found something so precious. And I felt stupid and emotional, but I wanted to cry, right there. And I could tell Kawa did too.
I'm re-watching Band of Brothers again. It's important to not forget. This group of American soldiers represents all of the soldiers who go to war. A tiny, teeny tiny part of me wished that they were Canadian, so that I could claim them. But, I know that just because there isn't a movie about a group of Canadian soldiers that has captured me like BoB has (I still have not seen Paschendale), doesn't mean that they didn't exist.
A part of me wishes I'd had these "revelations" a few years earlier. Because the man I admire most from Band of Brothers, played so brilliantly by Damien Lewis, Captain Richard Winters, died in January of 2011, and now there's nothing I want more, than to write to him and tell him that he is a hero. And from the books and the interviews, I know he never once considered himself a hero, and I know there have been hundreds of letters written to him telling him that he, in fact, IS one...but I wanted to tell him too. And thank him.
The sun is shining outside. The sky is blue. It's hot. Very hot, about 33 degrees Celsius out. There's a strong, warm breeze coming from the west. I sit inside my home, air conditioning on and the dog is sleeping beside me. Normally, I would complain and whine about the heat. Instead, I thank God that I'm here. I have so much to be grateful for. We all do.
I've always been a bit of an amateur military buff, but it's been mostly with regards to the Navy and submariners. Look in my library and you'll find a whole shelf dedicated to military techno-thrillers involving the Navy. One of my favourite movies is Hunt for Red October, which I can watch over ad nauseum, and I also love Crimson Tide, Das Boot, etc. I don't know WHAT it is that captivates me about that subject, but I find it fascinating.
I remember watching Band of Brothers for the first time, maybe in 2003? not too long after it was released on DVD, about a year. Mike had seen it and really wanted to own it, so I bought it for him as a gift and sat down to watch it with him. Now, I'd seen war movies before - The Great Escape, Schindler's List, Saving Private Ryan, The Pianist - and I was no fool when it came to the realities of war. Yes, the Great World Wars were tragic and horrifying and changed the world forever. It destroyed lives and countries and ideals. However, watching Band of Brothers, for the first time, even moreso than SPR, led me to understand just what it was that the soldiers who fought in those wars experienced. How selfless they were, how patriotic and committed to their duties they were. And the fact that the people in the mini-series were REAL people added something indescribable. Yes, Schindler's List was based on fact as well, but there's something to be said about being in the trenches and watching your buddy beside be blown to bits.
Anyway, I really hold a strange fondness for soldiers in my heart, and I think part of that stems from the fact that I don't have any in my family. There's no direct association with the World Wars for me. My great-great-grandfather was a general in the German army (and before you ask, as everyone always does, NO, he was NOT a Nazi) but that's about as close as I get. Perhaps that's WHY my interest in all things WWI and WWII has grown and become deeper and more important to me.
In 2007, Mike and I went to Europe for a two week whirlwind tour. We went to France, and while i can honestly say that Paris holds NOTHING of real interest for me, my heart was captured by the French countryside, and we visited Vimy Ridge, Thiepval and Beaumont-Hamel, just three of the many MANY war memorials in that country. Of course, Vimy was very special to us. The most famous of the Canadian War Memorials, we spent a lot of time there, silent, wandering, imagining what it must have been like all those years ago. Today, it's all trees and lush green grass, but silent. And even now, just thinking about it, tears fill my eyes. To stand there, atop the ridge where hundreds of young men shed blood to protect their country and people and countries and people that were NOT their own is something too BIG to really understand. The countless names that were etched into the memorial were humbling and I was filled with awe that we could live in a world, in a country that doesn't remember these names better. Something inside wished, briefly, that I was connected to one of those names, so that it could all have MORE meaning to me, but I'm finding now, that I don't need to be directly connected. My love for Canada and all that makes it the "true north, strong and free" is enough. I'm indirectly connected and it's good enough for me.
April 9, 2017 will be the 100th Anniversary of the Battle of Arras and the Capture of Vimy Ridge. Mike and I plan to visit France again in 2017, and visit as many of the war memorials, Canadian or not, around the country - Normandy, Dieppe, Juno Beach, etc, and especially Vimy Ridge.
As I get older, I continue to think that not enough emphasis was placed on Canada's military history when I was in history class in high school. Or, maybe truthfully, at that age, I just didn't care about it. And I wish now that I did. I wish that Canada had the memory of Europe. Europe, with it's much older history, was wiser and slower. Canada was like a young child, quick to want and act, with no regard for what had been. Europe had made many mistakes in it's youth, and had learned much from it. Europe knew how to remember. Canada still has many lessons to learn. There are more memorials to the US and Canada in Europe than there are in North America. The Dutch, the French, they all remember the role that American and Canadian soldiers played in the shaping of their nations and freedom. They are better than we are. They teach it to their young, they make it mandatory in schools to visit concentration camps. They do not want their future to forget their past. It's so important.
Let me veer off on small tangent here for a moment. A couple of months ago, I was doing a show at Theatre Passe Muraille in the Back Space and the Main Space had a festival happening in it. After my show, I came out to find two friends, Kawa and Nina, who had just attended the festival. We talked and went out for some noms. We sat in Le Creperie, and had just been served some delicious savoury crepes, when Kawa put down his fork, looked at Nina and myself and said - with such sincerity and earnestness that I admit, we laughed - "We are so lucky. We can just sit here and eat crepes." Of course, he explained, that with all of the craziness that goes on in the world, we should truly count our blessings that we live in a country where we have no war, where we can get food whenever we like, and that we were healthy and happy. We dismissed it as a "silly Kawa" moment and ate our crepes.
Back to the present. I re-watched Band of Brothers, having some time on my hands, and I hadn't watched it in a long time. And afterwards, after 10 hours of watching a superbly talented cast recreate the lives of a company of heroes, I was truly moved. I spent the next few days reflecting upon these feelings and the stories that had been told. On beautiful, sunny days, I looked up at the blue skies and thanked God that I was alive. I sat on the subway and ruminated over the fact that I lived in one of the greatest countries of the world and had so much to be thankful for. I had never experienced hunger, poverty, war, disease. I've had colds, and gone without a meal or two, I've lived pay cheque to pay cheque, and had fierce arguments with friends and strangers alike, but all of that pales in comparison to what others in the world are living with. Or struggling to live with.
For the past few days, I've lived in a perpetual "silly Kawa" moment. I walk around and take in what is my "humdrum" life. I am so lucky. Lucky to be alive. Lucky to live in this country. Lucky to be spending my days playing pretend in a theatre. I GET PAID TO MAKE STORIES HAPPEN. I'm not an overtly emotional person. Quite often, I'm an angry, impatient one. But now...I'm starting to stop and breathe first.
I'm rehearsing a show right now, and Kawa is one of the cast members. I went to rehearsal, and immediately told him that I now know EXACTLY what he meant. We joked about how he helped me discover the heart I never knew I had, but I could tell that he was truly happy that I had found something so precious. And I felt stupid and emotional, but I wanted to cry, right there. And I could tell Kawa did too.
I'm re-watching Band of Brothers again. It's important to not forget. This group of American soldiers represents all of the soldiers who go to war. A tiny, teeny tiny part of me wished that they were Canadian, so that I could claim them. But, I know that just because there isn't a movie about a group of Canadian soldiers that has captured me like BoB has (I still have not seen Paschendale), doesn't mean that they didn't exist.
A part of me wishes I'd had these "revelations" a few years earlier. Because the man I admire most from Band of Brothers, played so brilliantly by Damien Lewis, Captain Richard Winters, died in January of 2011, and now there's nothing I want more, than to write to him and tell him that he is a hero. And from the books and the interviews, I know he never once considered himself a hero, and I know there have been hundreds of letters written to him telling him that he, in fact, IS one...but I wanted to tell him too. And thank him.
The sun is shining outside. The sky is blue. It's hot. Very hot, about 33 degrees Celsius out. There's a strong, warm breeze coming from the west. I sit inside my home, air conditioning on and the dog is sleeping beside me. Normally, I would complain and whine about the heat. Instead, I thank God that I'm here. I have so much to be grateful for. We all do.