Day 2: Lest We Forget

What I wore today

Well, I've made it to day 2 of the project. Day 2 is about what I'm wearing. For once, it's not my usual uniform of jeans and a cotton shirt, which is pretty handy really as it's ANZAC day here in Australia.

We have a family tradition of going to an ANZAC service every year. One of the boys wears the Love of my Life's grandfather's medals, and the other wears my grandfather's epaulette. Both of us had grandfathers that saw active service in different countries in WWII (mine saw active service in WWI and some of the Indo-China conflicts too), so ANZAC day is significant and moving for us.

We've made it to a few dawn services, but more often than not, we go for the services that are a bit later in the morning. The services are always moving, current and ex-servicemen and women will tell of their experiences or the experiences of some member of their family. It's hard, when you have boys, not to think of those grieving mothers and wives, those very young men and women who gave so bravely of their own lives in order to preserve the freedoms that we enjoy. It's a wonderful reminder that our lives, the things we take for granted, the freedoms we enjoy were paid for with the ultimate sacrifice of many. And it's an opportunity to honour that and give thanks to those who sacrificed so much.

As a migrant to this country, I find the meaning of the day is in no way diminished. Instead, it has become for me, a day of reflection, of understanding what it is my parents sought when they came here, and of appreciating the liberties and choices that I and my children now have.

Without fail, every year, as the Last Post plays on the bugle, I dissolve into a wash of tears. This year was no different. I managed to hold my emotions in check through the heart-rending stories, through the calls to remember those who had died and those still engaged in conflicts around the world, through the reminders of the luxuries we enjoy and the rebuilding and good works our service people conduct throughout the world. But the first tremulous notes of the Last Post begin and I find great, fat, warm, wet tears snaking their way down my cheeks.

To all of those who sacrificed their lives so that Australia could afford us the freedoms we enjoy, and to all of those who continue to heed the call of duty of our nation, I thank you.

Ode of Remembrance (stanza 4):

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Lest We Forget

Walking through the Park and Reminiscing

B1's drawing and my sewn interpretation of it

In the spirit of recent posts, I've been reminiscing again. This time on happier thoughts. It was my sister's birthday a few days ago and while thinking of what to get her (yes, the usual gift card for the bookshop was also obtained), I remembered a drawing that B1 had done of the two of us, when he was only four.

In the drawing, we're skateboarding. This in itself is remarkable given that both of us have severely injured our ankles merely walking along pavement. The very idea of either of us getting on something less stable than a motorised, four-wheeled vehicle is hilarious, to say the least. So the fact that my then 4 year old thought it was a real possibility that we would a) get on a skateboard and b) perform tricks while on said skateboard was nearing hysterically funny.

This drawing, for ever so many reasons, is a favourite of both mine and my sister's. It shows us both scooting along on our boards, (limited) hair flying, manic look on our faces, arms flailing and clearly completely carefree. It is such a lovely insight into how he saw us when he was that age - daring, risk-taking, fun, brave. So much to live up to.

The completed cushion.
I don't think I conveyed quite enough "manic"!

Since we both love this picture, and I'm in the mood for reminiscing, I thought I'd use the excuse of her birthday to make the drawing into a cushion. Of course, since I'm never one to plan too far ahead, all this occurred to me late yesterday evening. I duly dug up the picture from its safe place (it really was stored in a safe place), photocopied it and began copying and sewing it. Thankfully, B1 wasn't a master artist at four, and there weren't too many strokes to copy. I finished it off this morning, filled it and sewed it up. I hope she's as excited to receive it as I was making it.