Today is a band new day. A November sky pales its countenance above, sounds of bagpipes play on the television as all of us within ear-shot think on ancestors from another era. Canada Remembers. My parents and granparents remembered the 2nd World War all the days of their lives, too. My father was about 18 when he was conscripted. He chose to join the Royal Navy and his mission along with all his ship mates was to proceed to Holland without delay and engage in the Liberation of that country. The years of 1938 and 1939 were met by the iron strength of a tiny island that held the faith of its people tightly as that group stayed behind - always close together. Their youth having left by truck, bus and plane, the people of that tiny island took in a collective breath as they awaited the return of their young men and women. Destiny is without prejudice and it exists solely by the numbers. As fate would have it, some would live and some would die. Conflicts are never simple. In fact, they are mostly sad. In June 1938, my mother was still a young girl, looking forward to the summer and riding her bike into the hills behind the house, much like any 8 year old would. The war changed all of that. My grandfather had fought in the first world war along side army men engaged in the conflicts in the Sudan. He left England a young, naïve youth. He returned a sober man. When the 2nd World War erupted, he had aged beyond usefulness for any more fighting and so he busied himself holding the fort and making sure his family was safe from the buzz bombs and air straffings by the Germans. My Grandmotherworked as a labourer assembling simple tools and munitions for the war and knitting clothes for the soldiers at the front. Black-out curtains and powdered eggs were the order of the day so that all the best could go to the war effort. Birmingham, where my Mother and her parents lived, was at that time, a munitions manufacturing centre and as such, a fair target for the enemy. Having taken most of Europe without much resistance, Hitlers goal was to over-run the last hold-out and bring England and its people to their knees. Yes, history had never been sympathetic to the relationships between the English and the Germans. Bad blood went back for centuries between the Saxons and the Anglo-Saxons. As for me? I was born well after the war, during the conflicts that hung over the youth of the 50s. Not to be held unaccountable and unmindful of what it means to be free and the great cost of this freedom, my parents made sure I was well aware of the loss of life, the horror of threats and the reality of imprisonment in forced-labour camps and the sin of being one of a hated country or even worse, a member of the Jewish race - no matter how distant. Where did I fit into this soup? Being English and a descendent of a moderately kosher Jewish family, my family - small as it was - drilled it into my head to always be careful. And trust no-one. And so today? Today I watched the Remembrance Day honours, not with a mute voice and a vacuous expression, but fully alert and mindful as to who I am thankful. I shed tears as I listened to the plaintiff wistful sounds of the bagpipes & when it was all over? I thanked God that I now stand - safely and proudly and the shoulders of a courageous people. Thank you Mom. Thank you Dad. Thank you Grandpa. Nanny, I love you more and more each time I remember you. ~Thank you
Posted on: Mon, 11 Nov 2013 20:54:23 +0000
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