“I remember”…. What a great note to start on eh! (My Canadian heritage kicking in… eh!) At a very early age, I accompanied my Dad to the Remembrance Day Services in our town. It was something that was made very special by our school system even back then. Each year it seemed that there was a level of pride in being able to remember and quote the epic poem “In Flanders Fields”. I am not altogether sure just when I memorized the poem… and that is part of the problem. “Stuff” clogs our days with both duties and experiences; many of which are self-actuated or within the realm of expected responsibility taking into consideration our individual circumstance.
You likely understand that I write, and am read, cross-culturally. I have had the opportunity to experience the unknown variables of language and ethnic definition, that I faced (and that others face) as we interacted on various levels; being social, academic and business. It was an eye-opener on many fronts and my ability to adjust, or acclimatize, was tested on more than one occasion. One example that has had a lasting effect on me is the value of family and the higher achy found within. In my North American Anglo-Saxon environment, there are many variables, and they express themselves freely within limits of moral and social customs. I digress!
Life, in whatever culture, is filled with duties, expectation and moments of personal time, as we live out our lives. This present North American generation lives in a different level of economic climate than those did before us. The only parallel might have been found in the post Second World War era in the United States, where an “economic boom” changed the lives of millions. That is not to say that everyone in North America is financially “SET” and has abundant cash to spend… that is a misnomer held by some that I have met in my travels and is not true any more than it is in most other cultures. We spend valuable time, as best fits the situation, within both present environment and those cultural expectations by which we identify ourselves trying to live within our means.
I have been amazed while travelling in other countries, that there have been various methods of recorded history for instance. In some cultures, even in N.A. there was or perhaps still is, a substantive importance placed oral history. It took a lot of time to memorize the details, yet it was done. Today people are becoming interested in both family and the roots found in genealogical research. There are many avenues to do research and not all are both accurate and reliable. I have been researching the genealogy of my family since I was asked to take over from my Mom about 30 years ago. She wrote letters, made phone calls and made personal visits in her quest to find answers to the questions arising from her searches. Today things have changed, and with those changes that have come, searches have been made easier; though inherent within these new avenues, comes inaccuracies that are not easy to overcome for the fast-food mentality of N.A. society today.
In dealing with genealogy I am frustrated with inaccurate information being proliferated by those who decide not to take the time to do further research. People often take information found at mere face-value, and this becomes part of the history relied upon by following generations. I caution many who have contacted me for information and I remind all that most information beyond 3-4 generations can be suspect without accurate source material. One example is found in the errors found in vital statistics in many generations over the years. There will always be someone, who for whatever reason, does not undertake due-diligence in their method or accuracy in the collection of the stats for demographics in certain areas… and … those areas may fall within the scope of our research.
Still digressing…. LOL! My Dad served overseas, in the Armed Forces, during the Second World War. He lost a much younger brother, late in the closing year of the war. He died as a prisoner of war as he worked in a bombed arms factory which was destroyed by friendly fire. It greatly affected my Dad who was then working in Aldershot England, with the Royal Canadian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. While he was preparing for the invasion and repairing all types of mobile unites, my uncle was in the heat of the battle. I think that bothered my Dad and he talked little about the war for many years. He remembered his brother, other family members, neighbours; the others who lost their lives in battle while he stayed basically safe in England.
So, we attended the service for many years together. He marched the sloped mile, up to his 90th year, from the local Royal Canadian Legion to the cenotaph in our town. Finally, the service was moved inside, as our ageing soldiers found it difficult to both walk the distance and stand for long periods of time. In his later years, we attended even as he needed a wheelchair, following a stroke. The numbers of veterans were diminishing and old friends were passing away, still he wanted to attend. The wonder of it all is that though we live in a small town the numbers of attendees have not diminished. There is a desire to remember on that special day each year. The question arises; do we remember what exactly it is that we are remembering? For many it is a certain family member; mostly within a generation or two at most. Toddlers who help their parents, as they make their way to the now mobile cenotaph (brought in for the occasion) with a wreath in memory of fallen ones, have little or no realization of what it is all about. I often wonder how many of those parents tell the stories of their veteran (family) relation that has perhaps been shared with them, while living memories remained sharp and accurate.
Someone was told lately that I had a living memory of my Dad’s experiences overseas. While there is a level of truth to that, as I can quote both his regimental acronyms and his personal identification numbers, there is more to it than just a few smatterings of information. Grandchildren may need to know regiment and other information surrounding his enlistment for university applications. But most are reticent to take the time to learn more of who their granddad was and what he did to serve both queen and country (both of which are of less importance in following generations) in his personal emotional war, well inside the experience of serving overseas in WWII. Life in England, I found much later, was very important to my Dad. He went back in the 1980s to visit the family he stayed with in Wales, while on furlough during his 1940-45 deployment. That Welsh family gave him hands-on support, when immediate family could not, due to his being separated from them by the Atlantic Ocean.
He told me stories that will forever be etched in my mind, and in their sharing, they made it possible for me to remember the importance of being aware more than only one day of the year. They have become part of my own identity as his son, and the heir to his memories and the legacy of freedom, which he helped to gain for me and the following family. I am not sure what he was expecting on his return to England and Wales. He found a new situation present both economically and socially. He found in Wales a new family, though interested in his coming, (as they had invited him to come) busy with their lives, and the social and familial life which he had known in the 1940s were then absent. Only the oldest of the children in that family remembered that he had been there. The daughter of the hosting family was still living and still maintained, along with her husband and family the farm that had been home to him while on furlough. He struggled to remember through the changes that had taken place, and after only 3 weeks of a 4 week planned trip, he returned home. He seemed satisfied that he was able to have made the journey back, but I think he realized that with time comes change and change reminds us that memories are made relative by an active remembrance of what was, not by what may now be present.
Thus as I watch the youth of today carrying wreaths and crosses to the cenotaph each year, I wonder what those moments will mean to them in 20 years’ time. I take time to revisit the experiences our veterans, as I watch videos of recorded history from those periods. I am happy that our school systems still invite members of the local legions in to talk about their history, and the history of those deployed in various wars even since WWI and WWII.
I skipped our Sunday Service this year to attend the cenotaph service in our local community. While there I was accompanied by two of my children and their families. Our oldest daughter and her family could not attend this year due to other commitments in their church. I wonder how long before there will be no record of even my own voice reminding my family of my Dad’s request, and my following plea… “do not forget! “
I stand and listen to myself and others around me, echoing in response that familiar phrase from the Veteran’s service, “WE WILL REMEMBER THEM!” Not so long ago, in terms of human history, someone else gave a life, so that others might live. The Christ of “Golgotha” was a singular warrior in a much different battle. He was the only soldier needed, the only soldier capable to fight that universal ongoing battle against indifference to the Creator. I stand in church weekly and ask myself, “Who will there be to remember in 20 years?” as I watch the attendance at Sunday Service become less and less important to today’s generation. I know that God is sovereign and in the master plan, I know little of where the future will turn around, other than at Christ’s return. Till then I choose to remember. Like Joshua of old (24:15) I echo his sentiment, “… as for me and my house we will serve the Lord!” I think constantly about how I let down my own children too often when I hear the words of that old familiar hymn, “Tell Me the Stories of Jesus”. One verse states “… write on my heart every word, tell me the story most precious, sweetest that ever was heard.” Thankfully, each of my children carries with them the presence of both the meaning and the value of Christ present, now and then. They remember the Christ in their daily lives and I pray it is not out of convenience, but from a love that is reciprocated back to Him from which it has come.
It is not easy to remember even the important things. It is living on the edge and there are many distractions which can send us spiraling down into a hedonistic life, isolated from that which has been not only an important past, but remains integral to our futures. “I will remember them!” Lest I forget! Take a walk on the edge… it may be your most important walk.
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