November 11, 2011

Eleven O'Clock Hush

If anything left an impact on me throughout my life, it was my father's stories of his time during WW2 that affected me the most.  Stories of the sad, happy and horrific.  Pictures that my mind struggled to compile or complied readily to conjure up.

  Over the years he made sure that his family and friends sported a Poppy on their jackets when mixing with the public on the lead up to remembrance day on November 11th.  He also reminded us that the Poppy was in recognition and respect for the younger soldiers of closer era's - especially those in active duty.  The experience that distressed him the most was that, after the war, out of the 5 friends that left their little village, he was the only one to return home.  He felt so guilty facing the families of his deceased friends but they were determined he was getting a hero's welcome, which he and the neighbourhood honoured and dedicated to those lost.

The picture below is of him with other musical comrades entertaining the troops and companies.  Typically, he's the one on guitar!  

Miss you so much, auld yin. Your music and talent still oozes down through the family bloodline. And so it will's just a shame peace isn't hereditary


1 comment:

Catfish Tales said...

Lovely. I've been thinking about that oddly written and haunting phrase 'the sins of the fathers'. But families are multi-faceted, and we carry-on a lot of wonderful skills, talents and perceptions of the world through the generations as well. Your dad looks great here, and no doubt finding a happy niche for himself in unhappier circumstances. What could be more wonderful than cheering up the sad and lonesome troupes?!