Tuesday, November 11, 2003
Remembrance Day 2003
My thoughts this time of year have always turned to my Father, who fought in WWII, and whose exploits in the desert war were documented in a couple of photo albums he had. I remember as a kid always being fascinated by them, and how reticent Dad was to talk about his experiences. About a month or two before he died, on a visit to the family home I pulled out the photo albums and asked him to tell me more. I wish I had had a tape recorder! He did manage to fill me in on some of the stories behind the pictures, especially the ones where he was clearly with friends, and explaining some of his happier experiences there: being a guest at a local wedding, building a boat to sail the Nile with his buddies, his photos of “native life” in Egypt during the war. There were also some stories for which there were no pictures, such as his meeting Churchill as part of an honour guard (they preferred tall men, and Dad was 6’1”). But I gather, largely from his sister, that the war was a soul crushing affair for him, and that it took some time for him to regain the weight he had lost and his naturally cheerful upon his return home.
My thoughts this time of year have always turned to my Father, who fought in WWII, and whose exploits in the desert war were documented in a couple of photo albums he had. I remember as a kid always being fascinated by them, and how reticent Dad was to talk about his experiences. About a month or two before he died, on a visit to the family home I pulled out the photo albums and asked him to tell me more. I wish I had had a tape recorder! He did manage to fill me in on some of the stories behind the pictures, especially the ones where he was clearly with friends, and explaining some of his happier experiences there: being a guest at a local wedding, building a boat to sail the Nile with his buddies, his photos of “native life” in Egypt during the war. There were also some stories for which there were no pictures, such as his meeting Churchill as part of an honour guard (they preferred tall men, and Dad was 6’1”). But I gather, largely from his sister, that the war was a soul crushing affair for him, and that it took some time for him to regain the weight he had lost and his naturally cheerful upon his return home.
So on Remembrance Day I tend to this not only of the sacrifices of those who gave their lives in wartime, but also for those, like my Dad, who spent 6 years away from the people he cared about. Sacrifices need not be total to be sacrifices.
# posted by Keith : 10:59 AM
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