ANZAC Day
It's ANZAC day today (that's our version of veterans day) and I have the house all to myself. Sandra has gone down to Brisbane to go to the University of Queensland Alumni Book Sale. It is an event that takes place every two years and last time it was on, I went with her. I was not well last time, I think I was still working then, and it was not at all a pleasant experience for me. Not an experience that I wanted to repeat at all, and yet, I kind of feel bad because Sandra was so determined to go, that she has decided to go alone. I worry about her driving all that way there and back alone, but I was facing the prospect of sitting in the car by the river to wait for her to look through the books. It really did not appeal. It was not like I could even go someplace else while Sandra went to the book sale, because until midday the shops and all would be shut because ANZAC Day is a public holiday or at least from sunrise until midday it is. It would be no good my going to a movie or something once it opened, because then Sandra would wind up having to wait for me.
So I stayed home and am working on the proofs of my novel "Hunter's Dawn: Laying the Ghosts" which is due for release on May 13. I have to get the clean copy back to the publisher by Apr 28 in order to be on schedule. It's almost done, so I think I will be well on time.
I laid down a little while ago to take a nap after lunch, and while I slept I dreamed I saw my Grandfather, my Dad and some other guys sitting on the back porch of my Grandfather's house. They were talking about the war, and watching a tv telecast of the ANZAC day dawn service.
I asked my dad if I could get him a stubby (small bottle of beer). He looked up at me and winked which was his way in life, of saying yes please. On the television in my dream, a bugler played the last post, and as my dream faded away and I woke up, I could hear a real bugle somewhere nearby playing the last post. It was a nice dream. It was a visit with the men of my family, and their friends who served in the first and second world wars. Pop and Dad both came home from the wars alive although Pop was wounded in battle in Tobruk (WWI) and sent home on honorable discharge. Dad served in Borneo in WWII and managed to get through physically unhurt.
War doesn't send anyone home the same as they were before they left, though and Pop and Dad were no exceptions to that. They were changed by the war, Pop physically and mentally, and Dad mentally.
They never talked about the bad things they saw though, only about the men and women they knew and the good times they had.
So, Dad, Pop, and anyone else who served and is still serving in war zones. I salute you.
Thank you!
So I stayed home and am working on the proofs of my novel "Hunter's Dawn: Laying the Ghosts" which is due for release on May 13. I have to get the clean copy back to the publisher by Apr 28 in order to be on schedule. It's almost done, so I think I will be well on time.
I laid down a little while ago to take a nap after lunch, and while I slept I dreamed I saw my Grandfather, my Dad and some other guys sitting on the back porch of my Grandfather's house. They were talking about the war, and watching a tv telecast of the ANZAC day dawn service.
I asked my dad if I could get him a stubby (small bottle of beer). He looked up at me and winked which was his way in life, of saying yes please. On the television in my dream, a bugler played the last post, and as my dream faded away and I woke up, I could hear a real bugle somewhere nearby playing the last post. It was a nice dream. It was a visit with the men of my family, and their friends who served in the first and second world wars. Pop and Dad both came home from the wars alive although Pop was wounded in battle in Tobruk (WWI) and sent home on honorable discharge. Dad served in Borneo in WWII and managed to get through physically unhurt.
War doesn't send anyone home the same as they were before they left, though and Pop and Dad were no exceptions to that. They were changed by the war, Pop physically and mentally, and Dad mentally.
They never talked about the bad things they saw though, only about the men and women they knew and the good times they had.
So, Dad, Pop, and anyone else who served and is still serving in war zones. I salute you.
Thank you!