Wednesday, April 25, 2007
It doesn't honour the aggressors or the victors.
It is a time of remembrance, of respect, of contemplation of the Human cost of War.
It puts a name to the statistics.
My Grandad was on the beach at Gallipoli and the trenches at the Somme. He lost three brothers in this 'War to end or wars' and never, in my memory, went on any Anzac march. I don't blame him for that - why would any sane human want to remember and relive this most tragic and terrifying experience. He did come back though - permanently changed by what he had experienced but still alive and in one piece.
Today we went to the little service in our local park and stood in the rain and mist for an hour while the service was held. It was brief and to the point. References were made to the futility of many of the battles that were fought with such tragic outcomes. The crowd was small but composed of a true cross section of the community- kids, teenagers, grandparents, all there for one thing - not to forget.
At the end of the service the Ladies of the local Croquet and Lawns Bowls Associations put on refreshment - as they do. There was Anzac biscuits and freshly baked date scones and egg sandwiches, all the traditional fare of such events. The kids had cordial and Orange drink while the adults drunk cups of tea poured from huge teapots.