Remembrance Day

At this time every year, we dust off old photos and re-watch "Saving Private Ryan" and listen to "Waltzing Matilda." Local Legions all over the country will be bustling with activity to mark the most important day of their year and keep old memories alive. The men and woman who served in the Armed Forces or Nursing Corps in any conflict are fast becoming memories of our own, I always think of my father's dear cousin Margaret Doiron at this time, and the service she provided, during war time, and in her life afterwards.

I never take for granted my ability to do, say, or feel what I want in this beautiful country, where we live without fear, and which has never had any blood shed on it.

My Blog today is brief, but I know many of you out there share it and have many, many stories you could share. The soldiers in my family all died so long ago that all I can cobble together is a few facts. Their uniforms speak for themselves.

There are not a lot of pictures of my father, as he died so young, and at a time when not a lot of people could afford cameras, film, flash, processing. You know the drill.

My cousin Betty gave me this picture, all framed and everything, and I treasure it.

He wouldn't have turned 18 yet, a child by many standards. His face still round and his eyes so steady. I see a lot of his features in my family all over the place. He served overseas for 3 years in the Second World War and came home without a mark, but his wounds were the kind you couldn't see, and his childhood was missing.

This is my grandfather, my father's father, who served in World War 1. He was 26 when he enlisted and unfortunately I don't have a lot of information about him or his service. I do know that his children all called him "Daddy" no doubt because that's what Momma called him. He was eighteen years her senior when they married, so he was absolutely old enough to be her father, but she loved him with all her heart. She was seventeen when they wed. He was beloved by his family and died relatively young at 70, from dementia.

How handsome these men were! If this isn't a looker, I don't know what is! Those eyebrows and the penetrating stare. This is my father's uncle William, Henry's youngest brother and he fell on the first day of the invasion on Vimy Ridge. His name is proudly listed on the cenotaph at the Souris Legion. His body is buried in France. He was twenty one at the time, far too young to die and leave no memories, but the world is better for having had him in it. How his parents must have suffered, but his terrible sacrifice was not in vain.

A lot of people knew this guy, but perhaps didn't know that he enlisted in the Navy at the age of 16, again, just a child. But it was soon discovered that he had terrible eyesight, and at that time, there was no use for a near -sighted sailor, even if he could jump overboard and swim like a fish. Everett became beloved by everyone who knew him. He was my father's youngest brother.

These few pictures are treasured and proudly on display at the Souris Legion, all next to each other. I have placed a wreath every year since High School for my father and it still makes my heart swell with pride and emotion when I hear his name read out. A while back when the Legion took on the task of finding photos of each local Veteran and framing them, then hanging them in alphabetical order all around the lounge, well, imagine my surprise when I went to pick up my wreath that year, and as I waited for someone to find it, I looked up, and dead center, looking down on me, was my father's picture. It's right above the counter.

Chilling.

Of all the odd pieces of paper and shards of memories that stand the test of time, here is a beautiful piece of my family memorabilia. Again, it was found in the walls of the old house as we were preparing to move into our new home. I don't know how it survived.

It's a brief telegram that my father sent home to his mother in 1944. He was in Holland at that time, shortly before he was discharged.

It simply says:

"Mrs. Henry Chaisson, Souris, P.E.I.

"All well and Safe. Love

"William Chaisson"

A short note to let his family know he was okay. The love and worry on both sides of the Atlantic was obvious.

And when he arrived back home safe and sound, all their prayers were answered.

But were any of them really ever the same again?