Freedom’s Cost
Remembrance Day is fast approaching, another November 11th will soon slip by and into the dimming past. The days when I would don my kilt and take up my pipes to mark the day at some solemn ceremony are also fading, kept alive only in the memory of those much younger than myself. The youngsters in so many school assemblies struggled to understand what they were told and shown about events too tragic even for adults to comprehend. The Lament, The Flowers Of The Forest, the Silence, the curious young faces peeking up from their bowed heads, these are sounds and images that I will carry with me as long as I have breath. The depth of that grief and sorrow expressed in those ceremonies was instilled in me by the generations that went before. They faded as I must surely fade.
I did my part to pass on the memory and the solemnity of the sacrifice and while I can no longer strike up my pipes, I will do what I can to preserve the memory of what my freedom cost.