Remembrance Day: November 11

My Dad enlisted in the Air Force during the Vietnam War. He was stationed for a year in Thailand.  

I grew up learning that my Grandma, his mom, was the first female Marine in Wisconsin.  She told stories about working at the Pentagon to my Dad.

Right now, in Canada, everyone is wearing poppies to commemorate Remembrance Day, which is tomorrow.  Commonwealth countries celebrate it on the day of the signing of the Armistice, 11/11/1918.   America celebrates Veterans Day* tomorrow.

I am not wearing a poppy.  While I will adopt most Canadian traditions, this one feels like one I can't assume authentically.  I am not Canadian, and my armed forces are American. (Though in researching this blog, I found that Americans wore poppies as well after WWI.)  It makes me a bit sad that we see red poppies everywhere in Canada, a decidedly non-military country, and not something similar in the U.S., where we are so very proud of our military folks.  I would need to wear an American flag pin, like an American politician, and that just isn't going to happen here.  Why don't we have a visible symbol to remember our Veterans?  

Our world is getting more complicated.  One of my former colleague's husbands is in Afghanistan. One of my friend's husbands was in Afghanistan. Both are civilians - one former military, one foreign service. But still in a country with combat.  Among my military friends,  one has relocated with her family to Europe for several years, and still another spends several months away from her husband while he is deployed.  Are you a veteran if you fly drones from a bunker in Colorado? What about if you are a civilian in a war zone? What about if you are a police officer fighting terrorism? (not to be too homeland security about it)

I don't have answers, but tomorrow at 11 a.m. our family will stop, and watch the news, and stand silently, and talk about what it means to remember those who fight to protect us and keep us safe, like Paul and Papa.  And we'll thank them and be proud of them.  

"in Flanders fields" by Canadian John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

*The U.S. Government has decided that no apostrophe is grammatically correct in the spelling of this holiday.