Sciences Participating with Arts & Culture in Education

Fighting for Peace

On November 6, 2013, the CRLT department at Dawson College held a Veterans’ Peace Event. There was a ceremony in the Peace Garden, and I was asked to speak for a few minutes about why it is important for people today, especially young people, to remember our war veterans. Several veterans were in attendance, as were members of the Korean consulate, since 2013 is the year of the Korean War Veteran. Young children from the Dawson Day Care were also present, sitting on blue mats on the grass. 

If you would like to share your own thoughts about Remembrance Day, through an article, poem, photo, drawing, video, song, etc, feel free to get in touch. 

To our Canadian Veterans; Active Service men and women; members of the Korean Consulate; Veterans Affairs Canada staff; Dawson Academic Administrators; students, staff and faculty in the Dawson Community Recreation and Leadership Training department; other members of the Dawson administration, staff, faculty and student body; and the children from Dawson Day Care present here today––as well as in memory of those no longer present with us––welcome.

I am honoured to have been asked to speak to you for a few minutes today, as a representative of the English department; of an interdisciplinary project at Dawson known as Sciences Participating with Arts and Culture in Education, or SPACE; and of Dawson College. 

When I was approached about speaking here today, the first person I thought about was my grandfather. He turned 90 a few weeks ago, and he was a fighter pilot in World War II. 

One of my favorite things to do with my grandfather growing up was to go fishing. In the 1970s, he and my grandmother built a cottage near the Air Force base in North Bay, Ontario, where he was stationed, and every summer my family spent a few weeks up there with my grandparents. Before breakfast, I would wake up, and my grandfather and I would pack a snack, usually a little bag of cookies; we would retrieve the container of worms from under the house, get the fishing poles and tackle boxes and lifejackets and oars out of the shed, set everything up in the boat, and then we would put-put-putter away from the dock and try our luck trolling along the rocky shore. 

It was peaceful. There was sometimes excitement when a big fish took the bait, and disappointment if it got away. My grandfather could sometimes get upset with me if I didn’t cast my line out safely or rocked the boat by standing up too quickly. But those kinds of ups and downs and conflicts are a normal part of a peaceful life, taking place alongside us munching on cookies with our lines in the water as the motor muttered and the fog lifted off the lake. 

Every November 11, I call my grandfather. The first thing I want to say to him is thank you, Grandpa, for your service. Then, even though he doesn’t usually volunteer much information about his experience, I usually ask him what he remembers about the war, what it was like for him, whether he still thinks about it. 

“Oh, sure,” he usually answers. “I think about it now and then.”

“What do you think about?”

“Mostly my friends I fought with. All the guys who didn’t make it.”

My grandfather was one of the lucky ones who made it home. I am one of the lucky ones, too, because if he hadn’t made it, I wouldn’t be here. But he flew overseas aware that he could be making the ultimate sacrifice, fighting to defend the world against tyranny.

It is one of the ironies of life that peace sometimes must be fought for. To those who fight and sacrifice for peace––whether in war or civil rights movements or anti-bullying campaigns, or simply in the way they raise their children, relate to others, or live their daily lives––we owe a deep debt of gratitude. No sacrifice can compare to that of people who give their lives, but many people throughout our society and world “hold high the torch" thrown to us by our veterans, as John McCrae wrote in “Flander’s Fields”; many people, in myriad ways, are working, and, when necessary, fighting, for peace. 

This is the year of the Korean War Veteran. The Korean War is also known as the “Forgotten War," a moniker that can be taken as a challenge to us: don't forget. Remember. Tell the stories. 

But why? Why is it important that we remember?

We are  often preoccupied with our own worries about how to live the life we want to live. How to make friends. How to meet a girl or a guy. How to be recognized. How to stay healthy. How to earn a living. How to succeed and what success means. These are good things to worry about, because each of our lives matters.

At the same time, throughout history and still today, there are places in the world, including places in our own backyard, where the rights and freedoms of individuals to worry about their own lives, to pursue their own goals, are not defended. In these places, people may worry about oppression, whether military or economic; about violence and threats to their physical safety and whether they and their loves ones will live or die; about hunger; about their ability to hang on to hope. 

Some of us here today know such places firsthand, having visited or lived in them. Some of us may only know the stories about them. Either way, if we remember what life was like in such places, and if we remain aware of the stories of people from such places, we know how lucky we are to be here, in this place, on this fresh, beautiful, peaceful autumn day. 

This very garden we are in right now is a reminder that peace is a gift we can never take for granted. Peace can be delicate, fleeting, suddenly broken in upon, and that realization––that peace is fragile, that it needs to be constantly worked on and defended––is why we must remember those who have fought and sacrificed to win what peace we do enjoy today. 

In love and gratitude, we remember the incredible gift of our veterans to us. I feel very privileged to still be able to call my grandfather on Remembrance Day, to remember his service and to say thank you.

And we remember the service of our veterans for our own sake, too, using their example to help us hold in mind what peace actually requires of all of us. Their example can help inspire us, in remembrance of what they have given to us, to give of ourselves, in whatever ways, large and small, that we can––so that peace can continue to be won, for ourselves, for others, and for future generations. 

Thank you again, to the veterans here today, for your service. May we continue to remember it.