The Queen doesn't

It started with former Governor General Michaelle Jean, the wearing by a civilian of full-dress military uniform to the Remembrance Day Service at the Cenotaph in Ottawa.  Subsequent governors general didn't, as I recall, but today Mary May Simon donned a number-one RCAF uniform for no apparent reason that I could find in researching the applicable protocol.  I didn't like it when Jean did it and I liked it even less today.

The governor general represents the Queen, yet the Queen does not dress in military garb when she lays wreaths.  Ever.  So why do her representatives pull it here?  They should not.  In my opinion, it insults and mocks those who have actually been there, done that, wielded a weapon, returned forever scarred, or actually died in their prime. 

Ah, but let's not forget that Simon, until corrected by her staff, kept referring to herself as Canada's Head of State, forgetting that she only represents the Head of State.  She isn't it.

And Trudeau arriving there, smiling and waving at the (meagre) crowds with his superfluous wife at his side, put me in mind of his father, who dodged the WW II draft and spent the war years wandering around soaking up some of that Chinese communist propaganda his son is so fond of praising.    

And why were he and Simon 10 minutes late?  More insults to those standing in wait. 

After I retired, I volunteered as secretary to the board of the Canadian War Museum, where I actually worked alongside real veterans -- not Mrs. Dressup ones.  It was an honour and a privilege getting to know them, hearing their stories and admiring their total dedication to their comrades, fallen and still standing.

I always weep when I watch the service.  I weep for my father and uncles who served with distinction and pride.  My Uncle Rollie, who became a major in the army; my Uncle Elgin, who was so valuable to the department of finance in funding the war he was not permitted to enlist; and my father, who, as head of the NRC rubber lab, was instrumental in inventing synthetic rubber when the natural variety could not be procured.  With hundreds of patents to his name, the federal government made billions from my Dad's inventions.  He, however, was happy to just stay in his lab, working away developing this invaluable product without which our world could not function.

I also salute B's father and uncles, all of whom served, one of whom died at age 23.  For survivors like these gallant men, the Legion -- not drugs or psychiatrists -- was the PTSD cure, a safe harbour where they could share with others who were also traumatized by the horrors of war.  

A letter in 'The Globe and Mail' today informed me about why the poppy was chosen as the remembrance flower.  Apparently, the poppy only grows when the ground in which the seed lies is disturbed, as it was in Flanders Field when so many graves were dug to bury the fallen.  Seeds can lie dormant for up to 80 years, but when a shovel digs into the dirt around it, it sprouts.  How beautiful and how magical.

So, those are the thoughts and memories I had, watching the travesty that politicians have made of this sacred day.  Rest in peace all the brave men and women who made our charmed lives possible.