Remembrance Day and today’s youth
It’s a cold, damp morning at Victory Square. Every single possible patch of grass is covered by a set of soles. It’s a crowded scene. Everyone here is assembled for Remembrance Day to pay their respects to those who have fallen in defense of the rights and freedoms we enjoy today. A small child breaks out crying nearby me, but is quickly hushed, and she complies, as if understanding the solemnity of the ceremony. She is one of just a handful of young people present here today. A formation of planes flies overhead. Why so few young people? The crowd is comprised almost entirely of mid-twenty-somethings and older. A shot goes off. Is my generation oblivious to the history that brought this day about? Is it too much of an effort to leave the warmth and comfort of their homes and give up even an hour of our time?
The minute of silence has come. The only sounds are from the background noise of our never-sleeping city. The silence is comforting in its sombreness. In a strange way, I wish it would never end. It shouldn’t end, and, in a way, it never does. Every day that we live, every day that we breathe, every day that we even exist in the peace and freedom we have today, we should be acknowledging our brave soldiers’ ultimate sacrifice. The silence ends. A parent, child perched on his shoulders, brushes by me. The important part is over; time for him to get his little one home.
Remembrance Day was initiated at the end of World War I. It is held on November 11 of each year. The minute of silence takes place at 11 o’clock: the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month. It was at that time in 1918 that the Germans signed the Armistice in a railway car in northern France, thus ending the First World War. The day has since come to be a tribute to all the fallen from every war. The First World War, the Second World War, the Korean War, any combat in which soldiers have fallen in is acknowledged. It is an important day. It is not a date to be taken lightly.
The parade of wreaths is taking place now. A voice in my head wants to say, “They’re taking forever,” but a quick thought about how those “endless” groups are but a drop in the ocean compared to those who have given their lives puts things in perspective. I have never stood, frozen-cold, in a dank, muddy trench. I have never sat in the rain for hours on end waiting for orders from my superior. My feet have never been so frostbitten that amputation is the only option. I have never had to watch my friends die. I have never had to kill a man in hand-to-hand combat. I have never felt the poisonous burn of mustard gas. They have. I quit my moaning and bear my “pain”; my “sacrifice” is nothing.
The laying of the wreaths is finished now, and an announcement that the ceremony has finished rings throughout the square. A steady stream of people begins to make their way from the area, but I linger—I am loathe to leave. The last unit of Cadets marches by. A crowd hangs about the cenotaph wishing one last moment to pay their respects. I join them. It is a sobering sight, yet, I feel proud. Proud that mankind still possesses an undeniable sense of gratitude, an understanding of what has been done for them. Our veterans’ sacrifice was not in vain.
The ride home is full of reflection. I cannot shake the fact that there were so few young people present. The Cadets aside, I am not confident that I saw any teens. It disturbs me, but I cannot say I am surprised. Mine is a selfish “me first” generation. A morning in the cold for a few hours is not high on a list of priorities unless there is an iPad at the end of it. I had asked the question throughout the week of whether people would be attending a ceremony on Remembrance Day, and, if not, why? The answers I received should have prepared me for the dearth of adolescents on Friday, but in my naivety, I had held out hope. In vain. Among the answers I received were, “I went to plenty of ceremonies in school. I think I’ve been to enough,” and, “I just watch it on TV. It’s more comfortable that way.” Really? These two were among the most outrageous responses, and I pray that these are relatively unique attitudes, but if today’s attendance were a testament to attitude, then it is obvious that they are not. I had not realized the extent of my generation’s self-centredness. I did not know there was a lifetime quota for Remembrance Day ceremonies. Granted, this is not the view of all young people, but there is clearly a significant portion that feels so. Many seem to view the day as just another day off, just another cause for a long weekend, just another celebration. I know many who used the day to party and hang out with friends: all legitimate, so long as they spend more than one minute in remembrance. I wish this were a situation in which the finger could be pointed at a certain group (teachers, parents, society) for failing to properly educate the young, but it is not. Every student is taught about the various battles, the untold numbers of dead, and the significance of the day. Schools have their own ceremonies every year during school. If something is important enough to use class time for, then it must be a very major occasion. There is no one to blame for the young’s lack of respect. It is just a distressing fact that numerous adolescents simply can’t be bothered. So many simply memorize their texts, take the test, and move on with their lives.
My SkyTrain pulls into my stop. The ride is over for me. Remembrance Day is coming to an end, but I will not forget, must not forget. A debt of gratitude to our veterans. Our freedom is only possible through their sacrifice.
“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.”
From “For the Fallen” by Laurence Binyon
DougLife