11 Days of Remembrance: Sacrificing an Education

I tend to pride myself on my belief that I take a moment to remember every sect who contributed to the war efforts- parents, siblings, women, Willing Workers- but today I learned that there was one very important group whom I had unintentionally omitted. Who that group is I discovered at my university Remembrance Day service.

The thought had never crossed my mind that many of the young men who went off to war were enrolled in university. Young people who were bettering themselves, and investing in their own futures. Students who willingly forfeited their own educations so that future generations could have educations of their own. Today, I learned the names of the many McMaster University students who went off to Europe, and decades later Afghanistan, to never return.

The names of the McMaster students who were killed in action.

 

On the list of names under 1939-1945 was one that I recognized. In Binbrook, Hillgartner is a family name that has been in my community since the beginning. The name Roy H. Hillgartner is one that I've seen over at Binbrook's cenotaph, and heard read aloud, many times over the years. Now I know that not only was he a Binbrook boy, but he was a post-secondary student when he enlisted and died.

 

The university Chancellor, Suzanne Labarge, got up to give us an address. She spoke briefly of the National War Memorial in Ottawa, and how this year the names of the lives lost from the Afghanistan mission will be added. More importantly, though, she spoke of the Silver Cross mothers. This year's Silver Cross mum, who hails from New Brunswick, lost her son in 2009 in Kandahar. Aside from the mother for this year, the Chancellor decided to speak of the Silver Cross mother for 1947.

 

The mother for that year had lost two of her sons in Europe in the Second World War. One was a Flight Sergeant who was killed on September 30, 1942. The other was a Pilot Officer who was killed on March 12, 1943. The mother and her husband learned of the deaths of their sons on the exact same day, despite the boys dying a year apart. As for what else we students learned? 

 

"The National Silver Cross Mother in 1947 was listed in the Order of Service as Mrs. C.H Labarge. I knew her better as Nana. I never knew my Uncle Leo or my Uncle Bernard."

 

That's right. The Silver Cross mum for 1947 was Chancellor Labarge's grandmother.

 

I also learned that student Bernard Trotter, killed in WWI, was the son of a McMaster professor. He also had a piece of his poetry published in Harper magazine while he was still a student. Images of what could have been.

 

In my morning mythology class, which I had before the service, the prof asked us, via poll, why it's important to us that the war dead be buried at home. Many said so the families could pay their respects and say goodbye. Others, as motivation for the future. I said because it feels right. He asked me to elaborate. I had said that home is where we are often born, it's where we're raised, where our family is, a place where feel like we belong. Everyone deserves to be buried where they felt the most belonging.

 

The students who were killed in action may not have been buried on the university grounds, but as we were reminded today, they were part of our McMaster family. A place, living or dead, where they will always belong.

It was a very different service for me today, especially since I'm so accustomed to going to the one at Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum. There was no reading of In Flanders Fields, and those crucial lines from For the Fallen weren't recited. Instead, there was the reading of a piece of poetry from one of the deceased students. Today was a service for students about students.

I am very fortunate, especially for a female. I live in Canada. I'm not oppressed, have I never been, and in this country I never will be. I'm treated as an equal. I carry myself with dignity, respect, and my head held high. And because a number of McMaster students were willing to sacrifice their own educations, I'm able to read, write, study literature, and compose elaborate essays. I'm able to have an education of my own. An education that I will forever appreciate differently.

 

And thus concludes another year of 11 Days of Remembrance. For more on remembrance, please refer back to posts from previous Novembers. Don't forget to read again next year when I do the 2015 edition.

11 Days of Remembrance: 100

100. Seems like a fairly large number, doesn't it? 100% as a perfect score. 100km feels like a rather long trek. 100 as an age many aspire to be. 100. The number of years that have passed since the beginning of the First World War.

We want so badly to believe that August 4, 1914 was a time long, long ago. The reality? It really isn't, especially when you figure my great-gram was born in 1913, and died in 2013. Suddenly, a century doesn't seem like such a long time.

Yes, August 4, 1914 was when the start of the Great War began. But does anyone remember what prompted it? It all started with the assassination of Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie Chotek in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914. And thus sparked the beginning of a war that would last until November 11, 1918.

Canada was still a very young country at the time. We had only been an independent nation for 47 years. And yet, between us and Newfoundland, who hadn't joined our nation yet, over 650 000 went to Europe to fight on the side of the Allied forces. Around 66 000 were killed, with at least another 172 000 wounded.

For a young country, we certainly made sure that the rest of the world knew who we were. We made our presence known at Passchendaele, Ypres, Amiens, the Somme, but perhaps most famously Vimy Ridge, where we took back this crucial vantage point for the French on an assault that started on Easter Monday 1917. April 9 at 5:30 in the morning to be more precise. After four days, we succeeded, but was the cost ever bloody...

And we were known as Stormtroopers, a force to be reckoned with, and not taken lightly. Success at major battles, and some serious intimidation. Not bad for a country that had yet to make half a century. Definitely boast-worthy.

And now here we are, 100 years later. Have we learned anything? Do we understand what it's truly like to be free? We recite MacCrae's In Flander's Fields every year, but does it mean anything now to the generations that have followed since that end in 1918? We've learned that PTSD and shell-shock are legitimate mental health issues, and not excuses for desertion. But really, what have we learned? I've learned that Canada has much to be proud of with its military history. I've learned that if I don't share the stories of veterans- their lives so that we may live- they could be forgotten. I've learned that warfare changes over the decades, but sometimes the end goal remains the same... and that there's always a good side and a bad side. Do people care as much as we want to believe, or do they wear poppies because it's what you do in November? I may need another 100 years before I find all the answers.

I'd quite like to know your thoughts on this. What does 100 mean to you?

For more on Canada's role in the First World War, please follow the link to Veterans Affairs below:
http://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/remembrance/history/first-world-war

11 Days of Remembrance: Can Humpty Be Put Back Together Again?

Today, I'm going to take the time to talk about something very few people like to discuss: mental illness. There are ordeals that those who serve, whether they're military or emergency personnel, endure, traumas that no human should ever have to suffer. Experiences that could cause a person to break. And that's why we're going to open up, and talk about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

According to the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA), PTSD can cause a person to feel like they're constantly on the edge, in fear of reliving a traumatic experience. With PTSD, many feel like they are reliving their trauma, through flashbacks and nightmares, or thoughts about their experiences coming out of nowhere. The moods and emotions of those affected can also change, causing those who suffer to find their own methods of coping, often in the form of alcohol or drugs.

So what can we do? How might we be able to aid those who suffer? The CMHA site suggests learning more about PTSD, and letting those who are affected know that you are there for them. Be willing to talk about it, or better yet, listen when someone who has PTSD is ready open up about their condition.

There are also many other organizations that are dedicated to the health and well-being of those who have physical and mental illnesses, such as Wounded Warriors.

Wounded Warriors is a Canadian not-for-profit organization that's dedicated to helping the members of our Canadian Armed Forces, whether they be regular force or reservists, who have been wounded or injured in service. Whether you're an amputee, or suffer from PTSD, they are dedicated to trying to help members of our forces transition from service to civilian life.

An organization Canadian band The Trews supports is the Canadian Hero Fund.

Often, the ones who are left feeling empty- a trauma of their own- are the families of the fallen. The Canadian Hero Fund is a grass-roots organization whose aim is to raise funds for scholarships for families who have lost loved ones in the line of duty.

A group that I'm a long-time supporter of is the The War Amps of Canada (or in casual conversation, who I refer to as the Canadian War Amps, or simply The War Amps).

It was founded in 1918 by amputees who had returned home from the First World War. Yes, The War Amps of Canada is an organization of amputees assisting other amputees. They offer counseling, self-help, and aim to help improve the overall life of our veteran amps. However, they have expanded from strictly military amputees, and for as long as I can remember, they have also dedicated their services to aiding child amputees. When I was 8 or 9, I had the privilege of meeting Cliff Chadderton, who was not only a WWII amp himself, but he was also the head of The War Amps organization. That meeting is likely why I feel such a strong affiliation toward this organization. Yes, I do send in donations for the key tags (which helped me the year I lost my keys on the back of a truck at Dofasco, but that's another story). It's another way that I choose to give back and help our heroes.

Are those who are suffering from trauma- PTSD or an amputee- ever going to feel like they're whole again? I don't know. I don't have any direct experience myself, nor am I aware of anyone with such conditions. But then, not everyone who suffers lets it be known. So can Humpty be put together again? Maybe not, but there are people, such as myself, and organizations who want to aide those who suffer from PTSD, Shell-Shock, or are amputees, try to live as normally as they desire again. It may not make someone feel complete again, but it is a start.

For more information on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and the organizations discussed, please follow the links below.

Canadian Mental Health Association:
http://www.cmha.ca/mental_health/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/#.VF_efMlUwrw   

Wounded Warriors:
http://woundedwarriors.ca/

Canadian Hero Fund:
http://herofund.ca/

The War Amps of Canada:
http://www.waramps.ca/home.html

11 Days of Remembrance: Generals Die in Bed

Back in the summer, when I first transferred to Mac, I took an English course called Longer Genres. We studied a variety of novels, including one called Generals Die in Bed, which was written by Canadian author and World War One veteran Charles Yale Harrison back in the 1920s.

My copy has this cover. I only just noticed the four stars under the title. Subtle.

Generals Die in Bed is a fictional WWI account being told in the first person by an unknown narrator, chronicling his experiences in France. It starts with the narrator preparing to ship out to Europe- the celebrations, the heroic cheers, the ideas of glory and valour- and leads the reader through the gore, death, and fears of battle that are to come. Spoiler alert: you want every hero to survive, but just like a real war, not everyone makes it out alive.

The title of the book, which is also mentioned in the story, made for an interesting discussion starter in tutorial. Actually, for anyone who's interested in military history or military politics, it'd make for a decent conversation piece there too. The main idea behind the title is that the lower, menial ranks are the ones who are destined to die on the battle field- dirty, starving, fighting for every second of their lives- while the higher officer ranks, such as the generals, get to have a warm bed to sleep in at night and are well fed... The idea that the officers make the plans, but will never act them through themselves. When I was in my tutorial, and we were discussing the significance of the title, I took the Devil's Advocate route, and suggested that the reason why generals get to die in bed instead of a trench is that they had already done their service. You don't just say, "hey, I want a glorious rank," and get it handed over to you freely. You have to earn it. Sure, there was the argument that nothing like the First World War had ever occurred before, which may be true, but from where I was sitting, I was thinking that those generals would have experienced the Boer War, or other battles like it, and that's not exactly something to take lightly.

As for how the book itself was accepted, those who were of the lower ranks praised it as an accurate account of events and experiences. I'm presuming it's like the book equivalent of Saving Private Ryan with regards to war-zone authenticity for those who have never experienced it. However, those who were the higher ranked officers- the ones who were perceived as never having to do the dirty work- saw it as blasphemous and false.  An inaccurate account forged out of anger and spite.

I personally enjoyed this book. It described more than what we could only dare to imagine. Only people who have been in a war zone, thought, would be able to yay or nay this idea for sure. However, anyone who's looking to read a piece of military fiction that's based on reality, I definitely recommend it.     

11 Days of Remembrance: The McMaster Archive

In the basement of McMaster's Mills Library is a really cool archive (it's design is similar to that of my dream personal library). Just outside the main part of the archive is a fascinating display that's dedicated to the First World War. There are medals, letters, photographs, books. All kinds of pieces of World War One history.

I haven't had to chance to appreciate it fully for a longer than a few minutes, so I definitely need to go back to admire it again. With better attention, of course. But what I saw looks pretty fantastic. I have a copy of one of MacCrae's poetry anthologies from the early 1920s, I couldn't help but think about how well it would blend in with the exhibit.

So if anyone's around Mac, and wants to spend a few minutes taking in some Canadian First World War history, go to the basement of Mills, and visit the archive. Unfortunately, I don't know how long that particular display will stay up, so I suggest going sooner than later!

11 Days of Remembrance: The Now-Known Soldier

A heard a fabulous story on the news last night. The unknown remains of a young soldier who had been killed in northern France have finally been identified. His name was Sydney Halliday, 22, and he was a private with the 78th Battalion Winnipeg Grenadiers. He and his brother came to Canada from England, and shortly thereafter, they enlisted and went off to war.

His remains had been found at the site of the Battle of Amiens, which is in northern France. He was one of eight bodies that had been found, and is the fourth or fifth to have been identified. Compliments of photos from the Department of National Defence, we also have a face to go with his name.

 Pte. Sydney Halliday

The Battle of Amiens commenced on August 10, 1918. It was the beginning of the end of the First World War. To think that he was so close to the end. A few months more, and it would have all been over. He could have gone home to his mother and said, "I made it. We survived."  His story would have certainly been a different one to tell.

We know that thousands upon thousands of Canadians served between 1914-1918, around 68 000, but rarely are we able to look upon the face of someone who had been sent to Europe to battle both enemies and fate. To have a name and photograph of even one makes it all seem more real. It's a means of connecting. We need that, especially since all of Canada's WWI veterans have since passed, and I doubt there are any surviving WWI vets left in the world.  

For more on Pte. Halliday's identification and story, follow the links to the CBC and CTV news sites below.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ww-i-canadian-soldier-s-remains-identified-1.2823869

http://www.ctvnews.ca/canada/first-world-war-soldier-s-remains-identified-as-young-private-from-manitoba-1.2087961

11 Days of Remembrance: Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red

To commemorate the 100th anniversary of the First World War, the Tower of London in England is doing an art project that consists of over 888 thousand hand-made ceramic poppies. Each one represents a British soldier who died between the years of 1914 - 1918. 

The name of this art piece is called Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red. The handmade poppies are creating a moat around the fortress.  When you look at pictures, you truly do see a sea of red flowing around the Tower. The last poppy will be planted on November 11. As well,  they also have an Honour Roll for the public to add names of those who served and fell in their own family.

After November 11, the project will be disassembled.  That said, the poppies are available for purchase with proceeds going to various military charities. Poppy hoarder that I am, I bought two. Don't worry,  though.  Only one is for me. My mum is taking the other.

I'm disappointed that I won't be able to observe this project in person, but at least I'll have a piece of it. And the pictures of the Tower of London with hundreds of thousands of ceramic poppies is pretty incredible. Follow the link below to learn more,  check out the pictures, and perhaps buy a poppy for yourself.

http://poppies.hrp.org.uk

11 Days of Remembrance: Adding to the Hoard

For those who may not know,  I am a poppy hoarder.  I have more than I can count,  definitely more than I need, but still, I continue to add more to the bunch. A few days ago was no different.

Yes, I have more than my fair share of poppies that come compliments of the donation boxes, but what you may not know I that I also collect the more elaborate pins. This past Friday,  I bought myself another, and yes, I think it's beautiful.

Sometimes, the beauty is in the simplicity.

Aside from one pin that I'm missing,  in think I just might own them all. And that's not even the end of my poppy hoarding. I have a specialty one coming in from England,  but that is part of a post for another day.

We all have something that we feel compelled to collect. Why should an abundance of poppies be any different? As for my collection just before my latest poppy-pin-purchase?

My interpretation of Flanders.

11 Days of Remembrance: What Defines a Hero?

Within the last week, a journalist for a Hamilton newspaper decided to write an article as to why Cpl. Cirillo, the Argyle killed at the war memorial in Ottawa, was an "undeserving hero" (he later changed the phrasing of his title to "accidental hero"). Despite being able to argue his reasons why, many argued back. The biggest issue, naturally, was poor taste due to equally poor timing. People are welcome to think and speak what they want here, but often, many forget to let some wounds heal before spouting off opinions, no matter how valid they may or may not be.

So that got me to thinking. Just what is a hero? According to the Gage Canadian Dictionary, a hero is:

1) A person who does great and brave deeds, and is admired for them.
2) A person admired for contributing to a particular field.

There are a few others, but these are the two that are of importance.

With these definitions in mind, who is heroic to me? Obviously, on a personal level, my great-gram tops the list. She wasn't your average female, and she certainly made her mark in women's organizations (notably the Willing Workers, which consisted of a group of women making various articles to send to Europe to the war effort). But aside from her, who else could be a hero to me? Child cancer survivors will always have my admiration. And of course, the men and women who wear a uniform and serve our country. In my experience, these veteran heroes are very humble. They didn't polish boots or go into war-torn zones for glory. They did what they did, and continue to do so, because for them, it has always been the right thing to do. Humility- a heroic trait that isn't appreciated enough.

Sure, there are always the heroes of myth, such as Hercules, those found in sports, and the ones from the comic books, but even they have heroes worth admiring. For instance, Marvel's finest are in awe of our very own Sergeant-at-Arms Kevin Vickers. Don't believe me?

A hero's hero for sure!

I also try to keep in mind that just because I class someone as heroic for me doesn't mean the same applies for everyone else. However, I think we can all agree that the Sergeant-at-Arms, and our veterans, along with the people currently serving qualify. As for the writer of a Hamilton newspaper article? Cirillo may have been an undeserving hero to the writer, but the corporal would have definitely been a hero to his own friends and family.

Your turn. Who are your heroes, and what makes a hero for you? 

A Few of My Favourite Things: Fall Frenzy Edition

The wonderful boys who rent and work our fields are currently out taking off their bounty of soybeans.

A sight to behold.

This started to make me think about some of my favourite things about fall. I suppose a bright red combine is an appropriate place to start. When I was little. we'd get to go for combine rides. If you've never been inside of one, I can understand if you think it sounds like the epitome of lame. But it's not. No really. That beast has some amazing technology. Ever wonder how much grain, in weight, comes off a field? The combine has the tech to give you just that kind of information. As for the people with their fancy luxury vehicles that can only be driven for a few months out of the year... Well, you with your fancy wheels are cute. A combine is only driven for a few weeks in a year, and they cost as much as a house. 

Aside from combine rides as a child being one of my favourite fall things, I also love ingesting the bounties of other crops. For instance, down the road from me is Fletcher Fruit Farm. Their claims to fame are apples and pears. I love their Bosc pears, which are the perfect blend of juice, sweet, and crunch. They have more varieties of apples than I could ever care to count (and they'll also tell you that there are better apples in the world than Honey Crisp, and with that, I agree- I've always been prone to Ida Reds and Royal Galas). And I don't think there are enough words in the world for me to describe just how glorious their farm-pressed apple cider is. It's thick, sweet, and I love it both hot and cold. I've never had bad fruit from them. 

This is also the second year that Fletcher's has had a pick-your-own pumpkin patch. I love going to the patch in the fall. I'd much rather support a local farmer than pay for a really crappy pumpkin from the store. $5, any pumpkin, and they're massive! They're also a glorious shade of orange, as opposed to a pathetic half-ripe yellow, with an abundance of seeds on the inside.

Which brings me to...

Munching on pumpkin seeds. Roasted pumpkin seeds with some butter and salt is probably my favourite fall snack. And they taste so much better than anything that comes from the store. But then, there is something about carving a pumpkin, separating the seeds, and enjoying them as a treat when all has been said and done. A little reward for a carve-job well done.

I've always enjoyed the changing leaves come this time of year. I've gone back to university full time, and where I park my car is near Coote's Paradise in downtown Hamilton. The colours down around Coote's are so vibrant and stunning. If I was walking to or from the parking lot, as opposed to taking the McMaster shuttle, I would take the time to appreciate the colour and beauty. 

Like every year, I celebrated my birthday with my Annual Film Fest, where a group of friends come over, and we watch the absolute worst in horror, sci-fi, thriller and fantasy. Anyone can celebrate the best, but a particular attitude is needed to appreciate the worst. The Fest is hands-down the best part about October. 

Other fabulous things about fall, for me, include starting to use the wood stove (the crackle and smell are rather relaxing), volunteering at the Binbrook Fair, taking in a derby or two, and enjoying lazy, cozy clothing. Halloween is one of my favourite times of the year (of course, being born near Halloween helps), so I always feel an extra tinge of excitement when it draws near.

And now I ask you this: What is/are your favourite part about the fall? Sure, the prospect of cold is usually a downer for most people, but everyone takes joy in something. 

11 Days of Remembrance: Disheartened Relief

Anyone with any kind of access to media, newspapers, internet, or otherwise, knows that Canada suffered a double blow a couple of weeks ago. First, Warrant Officer Vincent was ran off the road in Quebec, and then two days later, Corporal Cirillo was shot in the back while standing sentry at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in our nation's capital. In short, people whom I refuse to name, tried to fill us with fear and anguish on our home and native soil.

I don't shy away from my cadet experience. If anything, it can change one's perspective. For me, it was definitely apparent with the shooting in Ottawa. Before anyone takes offence, there's a good reason. By no means am I saying the WO's killing was less tragic, sorrowful, or less capable of leaving an impact. It's just... my former squadron, 779 Black Knight, is in Mount Hope, Ontario, a community that's part of Hamilton. Many of the people I had been a cadet with went on to join some form of military service. Often times, they became reservists. I know of at least two who went on to become Argyles. Yes, the very regiment that Cpl. Cirillo belonged to.

Are you starting to see where my train of thought was headed?

One of my former co-workers texted me about ten minutes before my Wednesday afternoon class was to start asking me if I'd heard about the shootings in Ottawa. I hadn't, but then, I'm old-school pen and paper, so I wasn't glued to an electronic device to tell me what was going on. In my car, the radio mentioned the shooting, but by the time I got home, where the news was already on, that's where I heard "Argyle from Hamilton".

My immediate thought wasn't about my cousin who goes to university up in Ottawa (sorry), but it was, "dear god, was it someone from 779?" Was it one of my former recruits? Could it have been the person who I was a fellow Warrant Officer with, even though he irritated me on a weekly basis? Despite being a first-class pain in the ass, no one, no matter how much they annoyed me, deserves two bullets in the back like that.

One of my friends is a Major in the Infantry. When I saw video of military men in their combats, firearms at the ready, going toward the danger, that's when I remembered that other friend of mine, who I had also been a cadet with, is stationed in Ottawa. I emailed him right away, asking him if he was alright. He was, but like everyone else in Canada, and especially our Forces, he wasn't having a good day. I believe his words were, "everyone I know is safe and sound... not a happy day here, you can imagine." With this, I knew that at least one person came out physically unscathed. But my concern was still far ending. Who was the Argyle?

When I eventually learned that the Argyle killed wasn't anyone I knew from my cadet days, I must admit that I did feel an abundance of relief. I realize how cruel that may sound, but I'm certain I wasn't the only one heaving such sigh. It wasn't an enjoyable feeling, though. Someone- a mother, a sibling, a son- was now going to have to spend the rest of their life without a child, a brother, and a daddy. No matter how relieved a person may be feeling, their heart is going to break.

I watched the funeral procession for Cpl. Cirillo on the local news as he made his way back home to the Hammer. I was alright, holding myself together, but still feeling that disheartened relief. Then, the reporter turned to a couple of older veterans, at least old enough to have been in Korea, possibly old enough for WWII. They were asked why it was important for them to attend the procession for the Cpl. As soon as they answered that it was the least THEY could do, that's when I lost it (it didn't help that their eyes were welling up with tears, and if I see a vet cry, yeah, I'm going to start to well-up myself). We're so used to it being the younger generation showing up, and giving that exact answer, but to hear it from a couple of older vets...

The picture can speak better than the words.

People may be tired of hearing about Cpl. Cirillo and WO Vincent on the news, or maybe even have a similar sentiment toward today's piece. But for the family and friends who lost those two men, their wounds and heartache will never grow tired, despite the relief the rest of us may feel.

11 Days of Remembrance: Poppy Protocol

November 1 is now here, which can only mean one thing- time again for my annual 11 Days of Remembrance miniseries. Like always, poppies are a pretty appropriate place to start.

Earlier in the week, while listening to my favourite radio station, two of the hosts were discussing when you're actually supposed to start to wear your poppy. As I used to sell poppies with veterans during my time as an Air Cadet lo those many years ago, I can give you the correct poppy-wearing procedure.

Technically, you're to start wearing the poppy on the last Friday of October. This is what the veterans and members of our Canadian Forces have always done. If that's when they deem the appropriate time to start, then I'm going to do as they desire. After all, they did the fighting, so they absolutely get to do the deciding. As for where you wear your poppy, it's only on the left side, close to your heart.

 Just like this. And notice that it's the correct shade of RED.

Yes, poppies tend to fall off, which is always unfortunate. This year, at the Legion table I stopped at, they had little pieces of rubber to stick on the pin to not only keep it in place, but to keep the sharp end from poking you. Of course, if you already have a poppy, an earring back will also do the trick. As for me, when I wear my poppy on my coat, I slide the pin between the layers of fabric, so the pin is actually inside the lapel. No poking, and it stays in place quite well. This also works well for tunics and suit jackets. Anything with a stiff lapel.

Now with this poppy protocol in mind, the last week and a half here in this country, has had a different protocol- personal choice by many. As I'm certain you're all aware, especially to my international readers, I'm Canadian, particularly from the outskirts of Hamilton, Ontario. About a week and a half ago, two members of our Forces were killed, on home soil, in acts that were meant to strike fear and terror into our red Maple-Leaf-Forever souls. Many people have chosen to wear their poppies early out of respect for our two fallen reservists. Though I have decided to wait until the traditional time, I 110% support the means of respect that many in this country have chosen to show. I did, however, opt to wear my red "WE REMEMBER" bracelet instead. Just because I didn't sport my poppy a week early doesn't mean I was about to refrain from showing them respect.

So now you know when to traditionally start to wear your poppy. And if you decide to pick one up at a table with veterans, don't forget to shake their hands. Even if they don't look like vets to you due to their younger age, still thank them. Being a veteran doesn't come with an age bracket. For all you know, you're wearing your poppy for someone they knew.