Two things that are sticking in my craw of late, one has been an irritant to me for quite some time now.
Every Veteran's Day, Nov. 11 of every year, we gather at the Prince George Cenotaph to honour and remember those who were blown apart, lost limbs, eyes, half a face; whose innards were spilt all over the ground, by bullets, bayonetted; those whose blood ran like rivers, whose mental and emotional abilities were shredded to pieces, some to never be the same again, ever.
We gather to honour families losing two, three, four or five members in one family to the war effort, and all of those of our country and other countries that put forth costly efforts to keep our freedom for us, our families, and those who have come to Canada to become Canadians and experience a good life they may have never known, if not for our veterans of every war we have had to engage in, and fought to the bitter end. So what officials or who is responsible, for having us backed into a corner, not being able to leave our wreaths out on Veterans Day?
What cowards allowed this action to take place. Running like scared rabbits to keep
ahead of the thieves or thugs targeting them for destruction? Who is running the show here?
Veterans Day is sacred. They gave us years of freedom, and we can't give them one whole day of honour, enabling the disabled and those who cannot attend the earlier service a chance to come and see and read the donors of the wreaths, and reminisce and give their respects and honour through out the day, to those who died a bloody death or lived disabled the remainder of their lives because they protected and saved this country from the evil that threatened it. For those who lie in the grave, bodies twisted and broken, earned through great cost, the giving of their lives to the people who were depending on their ability to fight and keep our freedom. Whatever religion, whatever background, honour our vets by wearing a poppy. Don't condone war? Most of us don't. Our vets had no choice.