Petals of Commemoration

Over the past few weeks, stories of unbridled passion between war torn lovers, displays of sacrifice and photographs capturing World War II, have collectively found their way to me.

While I do have an outline and progression of what blog posts I want to pen next, sometimes as a chronicler of life, I find myself drawn to the timely nature in which a story needs to be shared. 

My intentions were to tell the visit of someone whose selfish nature exceeded the boundaries of friendship. In the midst of their own upheaval and new beginnings in their life, they spent an entire day of travel to come and share an epic 48 hours with me.  Yet when I began to write I was pulled in a different direction- if only for the moments contained within-in order for me to pay respect to those on Remembrance Day. 

Therefore, this writer will relay the other tale in my next blog post, with the hopes that my imparting of this story holds true to the inspiration upon which it came. 

Several weeks ago, I worked Elections Canada. My day began as I awoke at 4:30 am. Work commenced at 6 am in a gymnasium full of strangers- collectively referred to as Poll Workers and Deputy Returning Officers (DRO’s). Over the sixteen hours, as a DRO, I took voter’s identifications, their oaths and swore people in who required it. There were no breaks; with the long day proving strenuous for many of those in the gym. I made sure I voted and had a say in the election. Towards the evening- after 14 hours of asking people their names, addresses and identification, I was beyond tired. As my next voter made his way to the table, he already had his ID ready. It was worn and yellow, matching his crumpled wallet that looked like it had survived a battle or two, over the years. He was a man of distinguished presence, with his silver wisps combed over in a proficient manner. After asking his name and following protocol, his gnarled fingers tentatively reached into his weathered billfold. He placed in front of me a black and white snapshot, with the edges curled; I stared at a young, fine-looking man in uniform. On the bottom of the photograph were the words: World War II. My reaction pleased the elderly voter and he proudly declared, “That’s me when I served my country.” Before I had a chance to respond, he brought out another picture. This one showed a young couple on their wedding day. He tapped gently on the photo and openly sharing with everyone, he chimed, “That’s my wife and I on our wedding day! She can’t come out to vote anymore, so I am here for the both of us.”

Of all those sixteen hours I worked on Elections Day and the voters I helped serve, this is the one man who made the whole experience, unforgettable! 

Last weekend, I attended Remembrance Day Service at Saanich Baptist Church. I have been to many events, as my daughter was in Air cadets for over five years. When she put on her uniform, Shayla was transformed into a young girl serving through her squadron, with respect for her community, fellow comrades and country. By far, the service at SBC was the best I have ever witnessed. Lt. Paul spoke of his experiences, followed by the bugle echoing The Last Post, it was a poignant day of remembrance. There was a reading of In Flanders Fields, which connected everyone to the thoughtful collaboration of the Worship Team- including a rendition of Amazing Grace that I was deeply moved by.

 After, I spoke with a kind hearted lady whose name is Elaine. She candidly shared her own experiences of World War II and what her family contributed to the Red Cross. Elaine shared how her entire family- including her husband, all knitted items for the soldiers. She was delighted to tell me how they put packs of smokes into the knitted cloths, along with fudge and other sundries. Her family’s participation in offering soldiers, little tokens from home, brought a great deal of satisfaction and pride. 

 

Later, as I reflected on Lt. Paul’s words; something occurred to me about his message in the freedom of being able to practice our faith. 

As a female writer and a Christian, even in times of adversity, I still have the opportunity to express myself on my blog. I have the liberty of choosing what I say without censorship or fear of retaliation. As a woman of faith, I can state what my beliefs are and not be drug out of where I am staying, or be put on trial for what I share. 

Despite there being times in my life when others have tried to silence me, I can ask for the Lord to shelter and guide me, with no serious repercussions. 

All of this is possible, because countless rows of soldier’s graves with crimson poppies surrendered their own lives, for my freedom. My labour of love- my words- come as a result of men and woman who have served Canada. This solemn reminder is for me to always be mindful of those who came before me.

Another group of dedicated soldiers are the First Peoples troops. They hold a significant record of wartime achievement. There were those who were commissioned as officers, while others were battle-hardened platoon leaders and combat instructors. As many as fifty soldiers were decorated for bravery on the battlefield. Many acquired renowned status as snipers and scouts, utilizing pre-war hunting skills in addition to wilderness expertise. Corporal Francis Pegahmagabow, an Ojibwa from the Parry Island Band was the most decorated as he received the Military Medal along with two bars for his bravery and effectiveness as a sniper.

After serving their country, soldiers struggled upon returning. Many First Peoples soldiers returned from the war hoping that their sacrifice and achievements on the battlefield would lead to greater recognition and improved living conditions at home. Federal policy extended many post-war benefits to Aboriginal veterans, but not as many as those accorded non-Aboriginals. Nor did the war herald a broader breakthrough in civil liberties for First Nations. Many Aboriginal veterans, including Francis Pegahmagabow, became politically active in the protection of their communities and the advancement of First Nations rights.

This is my second Remembrance Day on the Island that I will be attending. Being in a new area, I will make my way to another Cenotaph and stand with others in silence, to honour those who have come to pass and those who continue to serve. 

Should my gaze fall upon a young lady, dressed in uniform, marching proud…I will fondly remember Shayla and all of the sons and daughters, who are forever missed- no matter how they were taken from this world. 

By T L Alton