Today, as we all know, is Remembrance Day. A day to pause and reflect on those who fought, and continue to fight, for the freedoms we enjoy. I have spent much of the day thinking about what I could write in a post on my blog that would be meaningful and appropriate. I finally decided that I would write about what happened to my father and my father-in-law.
Neither of them saw active service, but serve their country they did. My father was the youngest (and only son) and a farmer. His role was to stay at home and contribute to the war effort through the raising of crops and providing meat. I remember him telling of how often he went and gave blood. There was such a great demand that the current rules of being able to give only once a month was unheard of. He gave as often as he could and was quite often weakened and found it difficult to work on the farm. My father-in-law worked at an arsenal here and was the only man left in charge of a work force that consisted entirely of women. They made bombs which, of course, were important to the war effort but dangerous work. Many of the men they grew up with and were friends with went to war and didn't come back or if they did, they were scarred in body or in mind.
Most of the men and women who served in the last world war are gone now and more pass on every year. We can't forget them, nor can we forget the sacrifices they made. We also can't forget the current veterans who are equally as important but sometimes taken for granted. They, and their families, have given their all to this country and are so deserving of our help and our utmost respect.
If you are so inclined, perhaps you might consider investigating organizations like the Quilts of Valour who give quilts to veterans. The link I give you here is for the Canadian branch, but I know there are similar organizations in the United States and Australia (and probably elsewhere too).
My biological father came back from the Korean War fighting demons he could not overcome. His brother, who became my father, raised me. I often wondered what caused him so much grief that he could not overcome which then leads to thoughts of how my life would have been different if I had lived with my own family.ReplyDelete
My husband was in Korea at the DMZ when the North Koreans took the Pueblo. Today I am grateful that he returned safely to find me and give me a wonderful 43 years with him.
I wore my poppy with much pride. I recall being in Vegas on November 11 a couple of years ago and a man approached me and said ''I know you are English because you have a poppy. I have one too, I'm Canadian.'' I love that we share that tradition.ReplyDelete
Amen. Lest We Forget.ReplyDelete
I wore my poppy with pride too and remember all who died and am thankful for all those who went home afterwardsReplyDelete