In Which Our Heroine

Remembrance Day. I’m late by 15 minutes, but I was out all day with my aunt.

My brother is 26, he turned 18 in the United States Marine Corps boot camp, and 19 in Iraq during. He is now in the National Guard. (Possibly going for the Army in a bit, ‘cause he’s desperate).

My grand uncle, Leonard (second photo, far left), was put in a concentration camp as a POW.

My great-grandfather was killed in action in France during WWII, when he was only twenty-six.

The man who is, more or less, a second father to my mum was an RCAF officer during WWII. He’s the sweetest old man ever.

And poor Aunt Jean. After recovering from TB and being released from the asylum, she met a boy, got engaged, and then he was shipped off to war. He was killed in action. She never so much as dated another man. She was in her 20s/30s, she is now 100 years old.

I went to high school in a very small town in the States. I know at least 30 people who’ve joined the US military - it’s just what you do in small towns. I don’t know if it’s because of my brother, or because of my interest in WWII, but I really do think Remembrance Day is one of the most important days of the year, if not the most important. I’m glad my brother came back. I’m glad everyone I know has come back. I’m glad people like them exist.