- Riel Warrilow

Today is the first remembrance day without my grandpa Percy Warrilow. He may have been the last surviving veteran from WW2 in the area, and the absence of that generation of veterans feels heavy. Many people my age will remember Percy from their school days, where he would visit to tell his story and maybe steer young people towards a life of farming.

I'll share one of his stories here: After his ship had been torpedoed, he was eventually sent home to Canada on survivors leave. Each leg of the journey less crowded than the last. The train from Halifax to Montreal had been standing room only, but by the time he was rolling towards Owen Sound there were few with him. As the train came into the city it was William Campbell's poem Indian Summer that came to mind.

Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans
With all his glory spread,
And all the sumachs on the hills
Have turned their green to red.

Now by great marshes wrapt in mist,
Or past some river's mouth,
Throughout the long, still autumn day
Wild birds are flying south.

Thinking of Percy on this unseasonably warm Remembrance Day.

We will remember.

(Photo description: Percy Warrilow blowing a kiss during Remembrance Day parade, photo taken by Andrée Levie-Warrilow)