Bahnhof Strasse
Met up with Hannah Courtoy a week next Tuesday
Thing is, I remember doing the remembrance day parade stuff with the scouts thirty odd years ago, it was always solemn and dignified. The names read out from the memorial included surnames of families still in the village, Stenners, Bucks, Sharps, you’d look around at the faces, people remembering fathers, brothers, uncles. Many living still had a connection to the loss, would have been there, would have got that telegram. It had meaning.
Now there’s barely anyone even with that close a connection to those lost in WW2, now 76 years past. It just seems performative pro-war patriotism with no personal connection to the blood and horror, virtue-signalling nonsense. Not what it was.
It is not what it was but is not really virtue signalling either. My mum and dad are still with us and they remember their fathers, RAF and Royal Navy respectively. They came through unscathed but a number of their mates didn’t, their kids will still be knocking around in their 70’s and 80’s. I remember my grandfathers. I am so very grateful to live in a time where I am not asked to do what they had to do. Or worse, what my great uncle had to to, his name is on the Menin Gate. Of course I never knew him nor did my mum, but the connection is there, these young men and some women left our leafy, safe town and put themselves out there for what was thought to be a greater good and they never came home. Their families suffered a lifetime of pain as a result. That pain decends the generations. Anything more than a simple poppy in a lapel and 30 minutes stood outside in November is fucking bobbins though.
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