Remembrance Day and Red Poppies

I did my bit for Remembrance Day again. This time I had my friend, Paul, with me. It was nice to have company and we set off across the park in our Great War Canadian uniforms. At the 21st Battalion memorial a few cadets were getting ready, one in a Great War uniform I had helped acquire for the Princess of Wales' Own Regiment. That made three of us in uniform, and I knew my friend David was tending his gallery in uniform and two other uniforms were variously on display. Tim's battalion was showing a sixfold increase over last year. Paul and I greeted the cadet before walking down the scarlet line of RMC cadets getting ready near by. I was pushing my vintage bicycle and sporting the white poppy together with the red and copper ones from years before. Did anyone notice?

The truth is Remembrance Day is very much a red poppy event. Everyone who attends has a story of a parent or grandparent who served. Everyone has a son or a daughter who is serving. Many are veterans themselves. And far from being a time of overt jingoistic patriotism I found it to be a time of thoughtful reflection and regret, of fear and concern, and of hope.

Paul and I stood amongst the civilian contingent, since that's what we really are, and afterwords we met and talked with people. No one was disturbed by my white poppy and those who asked questions of it seemed intrigued. My grouping of poppies opened gates of reflection amongst people who had only met that moment. We all seemed to embrace the white poppy, but in light of the shared remembrance of families which had suffered through the losses of soldiering, we acknowledged the visceral strength of the blood red poppy as a symbol.

Like it or not we do have a national history of war and accompanying death. It is a national experience we must remember. The red poppy certainly speaks to this past, and I think the white speaks for the future. I will be wearing both again next year.