Remembering...

On this day of Remembrance when we pause at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month to remember and honour those men and women that serve in our Armed Forces today, tomorrow and yesterday, well, I was at the gym, honouring my two minutes of silence as I stretched out the massive pain in my back from sleeping on the blow up bed the past few nights.

I had three uncles that served in WWII, Bill, Art & Dick Ashby. They were my mother's brothers. Two served for the Canadian Forces and one was a sailor for the US Navy. All of them served overseas and none of them met my mom, their sister, until they were home from the war and she was 5 years old. It was a different time to be sure, but I always think of that on Remembrance Day.

Today is a statutory holiday here on the sandbar. School is out. Businesses are closed. And as much as I take issue with a lot of things that happen here, I like the fact that here, in this place, we stop for one day to respectfully honour the men and women that keep us safe and help make the world a better place...just like Canadians have for over two hundred years.

But while I was at the gym, preparing for my workout, I couldn't help but think about all the strange things I see & overhear there on any given day. Today it happened in the change room. I rounded the corner and as I pushed open the door to the ladies change room I knew it was full of little old ladies who had just finished their aqua-aerobics class. I knew this because one would have to be completely deaf not to hear the cacophony of the hens as they gossiped and giggled. As they were changing from swimsuits to street clothes I noticed two things:

1) One older lady (she is pushing 90 if she's a day) was standing at the mirror dressed only in her old-lady undies (no bra, so boobs hanging lll-ooo-www) with a hair-dryer in each hand blowing her hair dry from both sides. I guess it's more efficient?

2) Around the corner from the dueling dryers are the shower stalls. Both were occupied and while one lady was busily showering away in the far stall, her friend was cheerily standing outside the stall having a conversation with her. You think there's nothing weird about that? How about the fact that the lady outside the shower was standing with her nose about one millimeter away from the shower curtain YELLING her part of the conversation. Maybe you had to be there...but it was odd. And just a little bit funny. Trust me.

Anyway, the ladies were all in a rush to get to our Cenotaph for the 11am service. So, good for them for squeezing in a workout and still making it to the parade on time. Me, I made it out in time to drive right into the parade route and salute our soldiers at the Charlottetown Armoury as I made my way home, listening to the CBC and the tribute from Ottawa.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.

- John McCrae