By Jon Farmer
November 11th is complicated. We mark it with ornate public ceremony, great bursts of munitions and music, and – most importantly – silence. A crowd gathered around the cenotaph on 1st Avenue West in Owen Sound to mark this Remembrance Day. A thousand people stretched north along the sidewalks and steps of the library and art gallery, and spilled east along the 9th Street Bridge wrapping along the top of the eastern bank. Men and women in uniform stood side by side with civilians of all ages, almost all wore poppies. The Canadian flag hung at half-mast. The mood was quiet and thoughtful.
Memorials in parks and buildings throughout Owen Sound remind us that there were times during the past century when Canadians were clearly and collectively touched by war. Plaques explain the lives and deaths of local war heroes. Area high schools still hang the bronzed names of class mates killed almost one hundred years ago. Waiting for the ceremony to begin, I spoke with members of the crowd to better understand what Remembrance Day means to them.
It has been generations since Canada experienced total war but the men and women who attended the ceremony in uniform prove that military service and armed conflict continue to impact our communities. Master Corporal Keifer is originally from Newmarket and joined the Canadian Forces in 2003. He served in Haiti and Afghanistan and is currently training in Meaford. On November the 11th he remembers his friends who died while serving on those missions.
Retired Commander Jim Hutton served 29 years in the Navy. He described his service as "a great time" although he added in an understated way that the Gulf War was "challenging". On Remembrance Day he thinks of the people he knew and those who served before.
Retired Seargent Ernie Coates remembers "the other people who served and passed away in armed conflict". His grandfather survived Vimy Ridge but, having been gassed, died within a year of the war's end. Sgt Coates' father served in the Air Force and his uncle served during the Second World War. Two of his children were marching in the parade this year as cadets.
Both Cdr Hutton and Sgt Coates spoke about the excitement of travelling the world but said that it had come at a cost. Leaving their families at home for months at a time was difficult. Sgt Coates said that when he returned his children would ask: "is daddy moving back home"? Our conversations made it clear that military service affects more than those who are killed.
Shortly before 11am the band broke the quiet and the parade marched in. A jeep driven by veterans led the way, followed by a colour parade, veterans, army, sea, and air cadets, and local police all uniformly well dressed. The crowd applauded as the parade passed and fell back into silence when the music stopped and orders barked the colour party into position. A trumpet blew the Last Post and a large gun hidden on the south-east side of the river fired to mark, and later to break, the moment of silence. Smaller guns saluted. The service moved in rounds of silence, music, and dedication. Christian and Jewish prayers were offered. A young man read In Flanders Fields.
Major, the Reverend Neil Parker offered the reflection. He encouraged the crowd to consider the voices speaking in the poem: the dead and those who lost loved ones. He spoke of those whose lives have been forever damaged by war and those currently "living on the move because of conflict". He encouraged us to work for peace. Maj, the Rev. Parker's reflection embodied the day's complexity. We simultaneously celebrate military service and sacrifice while hoping that it will soon be unnecessary.
When the official public ceremony was over and the parade had moved north towards the legion, a group in leather motorcycle vests waited behind. They were members of the Canadian Veteran Freedom Riders, a mixed group of active and retired members of the military and their supporters. They primarily raise support for veterans, their families, and communities. According to their spokesman retired Warrant Officer Mike Boudrais, the group's inspiration comes primarily from their experiences over-seas. He said that even though soldiers are trained in warfare "they have hearts and hearts that break sometimes". The group was waiting to accompany Bob Mitchell to the park named in honour of his son Corporal Robert James who was the 39th Canadian killed in Afghanistan.
Almost every veteran I spoke with described their gratitude for Canada following time abroad. Some described their pride in Canada's freedom and standard of living. Some struggled for words. That too seemed appropriate. As Canadians we have not been uniformly affected by war; some of us have never known violence; some served willingly; some are Canadians only because they were able to escape conflict elsewhere.
Not everyone at the ceremony was personally connected to the military or war. I spoke with a young couple who were simply paying respects. Another young woman described Remembrance Day as one of those days "you don't really need to explain". Despite our differences we mark a common day of remembrance.
I watched the ceremony from the sidewalk directly opposite the cenotaph. Looking around from where I stood I could see active and retired members of the armed forces, cadets, dignitaries, and civilians from 1 to 80 years old; all of them my neighbours. In the moments between gun shots and singing I realized that a still silence is the only appropriate response to armed conflict. We share silence regardless of our personal experiences. We share silence with those who are missing and lost. In the still and silent moments we live peace, and can imagine the world we are trying to build.
