November 11, 2005
Always Remember
My niece just asked me 'How long are we supposed to remember for?', when I told her I attended this morning's ceremony. The answer is simple. Always.

Never forget. Never become complacent. These are the stories of my parent's and grandparent's generation. The new generations don't have that same bond and we need to work on making the history alive. My nieces have grown up in a world where they have never had to see a classmate go to combat, and therefore, it's something we work hard to make them understand. I tell my niece of the friends I've met over blogging who have served, and are doing so. And those that support them. I tell her - imagine your husband is at war right now, and you are raising your beautiful babies on your own. I want her to have a sense of the strength of those women - those military wives and girlfriends and not take for granted the fact that her worst issue is her husband staying out too often with the boys down at the pub.

Recently, when in the States, I had the opportunity to see a couple of soldiers returning from Iraq. In their uniforms, they were a sight to behold and the first time I had ever seen an OIF soldier in the 'flesh'. Sure, I've seen lots of pictures and even of those I actually consider friends. I felt emotional as I watched their families embrace them and those tough, young guys tear up in their arms. It was very moving.

Everyone was soaked to the skin and the CO's kept reminding their cadets to keep moving their fingers and toes, lest they lose circulation. I saw a few cadets lose their balance, and a couple instances, actually pass out but all seemed to be deeply aware of the significance of why they were.

I was happy to see many parents who did bring their children. It's important.

Richmond's Cenotaph. I'm not sure the exact number of boys we lost but these were classmates of my mother and her sisters. These are not just names to them, but living breathing friends they knew and grew up with.

Most of the names here can now be found in the form of street names in the city, but their stories are fading. James Gibbons was our link. He was my Aunt's brother-in-law and was shot down over France in World War II. He was just 19.

Vancouver, British Columbia
A patriotic Canadian full of visions of a better Canada, random thoughts and a lot of hot air. Who am I? A struggling writer and photographer, who looks forward to a better Canada. I read. A lot. I learn. A lot. I push myself. A lot. The world is a small place, and getting smaller every day. I'm proud to have friends in every corner of the earth, and abide by the old adage that there are no strangers, only friends we haven't met yet.
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Turning thirty and a half
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