Lest We Forget

Thoughts tumble back and forth, playing hide and seek. They’re teasers, barely revealing themselves before racing off again. A flash of color, red, yellow and gold. It was a cold day in the dying, autumn landscape. This is what’s it’s like to live inside my mind, where ten things are happening all at once. As I sit, chin propped in hand, the old familiar hum of the fridge kicks in.

I am humbled, guilty and grateful, all at once.

Earlier today I watched the Remembrance Parade with a dear friend. We stood in the crook of the road, close to a giant cannon. Army trucks, soldiers, veterans and cadets lined the streets. It was a big turn out. The oldest soldier gave a brief speech when a tiny child broke through the barricade twirling. The little girl was perhaps three years old.. She danced with abandon, enthralled by the mesmerizing swirl of her pink, frilly tutu.

The elderly soldier spoke solemnly of battlefields and fallen comrades.

The tiny child laughed, swirling, dizzy with joy.

These two couldn’t have been farther apart. And it wasn’t just their age.

For one had known war, the other, only freedom.

I stood watching the rest of the crowd. Ordinary people. People like you and me, gathering to pay their respects to the brave men and women who fought to keep our country safe and free.

The little girl twirling, the senior leaning on his cane, the man in the business suit, the parents tending to children, the teenagers on their phones, the lady singing with such gusto, the bald man and the woman crying into her handkerchief.

A snapshot of the many people who attended today. People of every size, shape, and color. A plane flew overhead interrupting my people watching when the cannon roared. I wasn’t expecting it. There was no warning, and it was loud. Very loud. My ears are still ringing.

For a split second, I caught a glimpse of what it was like to stand on the battlefield. The thunderous roar of the cannon, the bitter sting of gunpowder in my nostrils, and the ghost trails of smoke.

Many lost their lives to save ours.

We have a responsibility to them. One I never quite recognized before today.

It isn’t enough that once a year we pay our respects to the soldiers who lost their lives fighting to keep us free.

For the truth of it is, we aren’t always free. We aren’t free of ridicule. We aren’t free to say the Lord’s prayers or Merry Christmas in our schools. We aren’t free in many other ways that I have entirely no power over. I don’t like that we can’t speak our truth without being judged but I’ve grown custom to playing nice, and I think it’s this, I was meant to write about.

In the morning’s celebration it was easy to pay homage, but what about later? What about the other 364 days of the year?

Each time I stay silent, when my voice is needed, I’m disrespecting the soldiers who fought for my right to be heard.

So today I will take a risk. Just as our soldiers do every day of their life.

I’m not okay with the Lords Prayer being omitted from our schools. We need it now more than we ever did. I’m not okay with bullying and abuse. I’m not okay with enabling others to stay sick. I’m not okay with child abuse and parents who abandon their children. I’m not okay with animal cruelty. I’m not okay with 144 people dying each day from an overdose. I’m not okay with babies being born addicted and children losing their parents.

There are many things I’m not okay with. It’s easy to see the big ones. But there are a million little ones too.

It’s easy to turn a blind eye; Maybe it’s the man in line, yelling at the cashier, or your bosses tone of voice. Or maybe someone asks you what you think, and you give them a vague description, telling them nothing of how you feel or think. It happens all the time.

Invest nothing. Risk nothing. Give nothing.

Can you imagine if our soldiers fought our wars half-heartedly? Let the other guy do all the work. Let him take the bullet.

We wouldn’t have freedom of choice today.

As I looked upon our veterans; backs bent with age and fragility, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was it worth it? What do they think when they see us – the people they laid down their lives for?

I can’t pretend to know, but I’d like to ask. I’m curious.

The image of the little girl in the pink tutu comes to mind. What will her future be? Sometimes I wonder where us humans are heading. We’ve picked up some bad habits. Worse yet, we’ve become complacent. It’s easy to wait for someone else to fight our battles and right all our wrongs. We can point fingers and be masterful victims. It’s easy to straddle the fence and play it safe. Speak nothing, risk nothing, do nothing, don’t rock the boat! It’s easy, but it’s not right.

The next time you see something unjust, don’t turn a blind eye.

Lest we forget.

I hope I never do.


(c) 2014 Jagged Little Edges All Rights Reserved