This week we will celebrate Veteran's Day on November 11th, a day that marks the end of fighting in World War I. This is one of the rare holidays that is shared by many countries around the world, and although it is called by many names, the purpose is the same; to remember those who served.
My grandpa served in the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II. He was stationed in Great Britain and worked to repair the airplanes that actually returned. Repair the holes, fast and securely, so another friend could go up and fight the next day.
I remember.
Growing up, November 11th (aka: Remembrance Day in Canada) meant no school. Of course, I was happy about that. As much as I loved school, a mid-week day off was always a treat (still is!). However, my parents didn't always have the day off from work, so off I would go (with my siblings, of course) to my grandparents house.
The day would usually involve some reading (my grandma was a retired teacher) and some playing outside. There would be some TV time when Grandma was busy (she was not a fan!) and some working in the garage on projects of our own imagination.
But no matter what was going on, we knew that 11 o'clock am was sacred. We would sit down at the kitchen table, usually with a snack Grandma had prepared and get ready.
The little battery operated radio would be placed in the middle of the table and tuned in to a radio station that Grandpa chose. And while I don't remember much of what they would say, I do remember one thing. At 11 am, they would ask for a minute of silence to remember the fallen.
One minute is a long time to a kid...a really long time! I probably bowed my head for 10 seconds or so...because that's what I saw Grandpa do. But then, I'd lift it and start looking around. My siblings would be eating. My grandma would be at the sink. But my grandpa would have his head bowed, his face serious;
deep in thought.
I was too young and naïve, maybe even self-absorbed, to ask what he thought of. To ask whom he remembered during that one minute. To know if he was thankful to be alive, or sorry to have to
remember so many friends fallen too young. Or both.
Every year we did this. Sometimes we heard the Canadian poem, "In Flanders Fields". Sometimes we listened to music from that era. Always, we wore poppies on our lapels. And, every year we sat in silence for a minute at 11 o'clock in the morning.
With his silence, I learned.
I learned to honor those we have loved and lost.
I learned to it's okay to remember them, even when the memories are difficult.
I learned tradition is not always a bad thing.
And I learned the power of leading by example.
My Grandpa didn't have to invite us noisy, squirrely children to join him in this moment.
But he did.
He didn't need to buy us poppies to wear on our lapels.
But he did.
He didn't need an audience to remember those he lost.
But he invited us anyhow.
And we learned.
And now, we remember too.
This week, reflect on those who served...and continue to do so.
Consider how to encourage young people to understand the sacrifices that have occurred for freedom, and how to treasure freedom in a democracy and advocate for others to have it too.
Remember the burdens carried by those who have seen so much tragedy, for the freedom of many.
And especially this week, continue to lead by example. A quiet, consistent, patient example that others will reflect on and learn from for years.
Remember.
Kim
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