While much of the rest of Canada marked Remembrance Day I worked. The sawmill marks mid-week holidays the same day the docks do. For the first couple years after 9-1-1 the docks shut down on the 11th no matter what day of the week it fell on. Honour the War Machine and all that. After that the Fuck the Taking a Holiday in the Middle of the Week Faction at the docks regained control and we started getting a long weekend in November again.
At five past eleven this morning I heard the fighter jets go overhead as they prepared to do their fly-over Dope City's East End cenotaph. I thought briefly of my grandfather fucking English skirt during training before heading out to kick the shit out of the motherfucking fascist scum. Then I thought of my first dog Strangler who died on Remembrance Day quite a few years back. Such sadness. Then my mind returned to how much beer I could put back watching the Lions battle the Roughriders in sub-zero Screamin' White Jefferson country on Sunday.
Tonight the Hammer is curled up by the fire Sonja is tending as she watches television. I am listening to WDVX-FM like some motherfucking good old country boy, doing a little typing, sipping a little Arran's. I feel alright.
Beats the fuck out of being in a war.
3 comments:
Grandfather in The Navy in WWI. Father in the Marines in WWII. Uncle killed in Korea. Older Cousin in the army in Vietnam. Nephew currently in the infantry in Afghanistan. Somehow I managed to avoid becoming cannon fodder or an enforcer for the Wall Street mob. Gotta respect the people who willingly serve with the best intentions but fuck the war machine.
My dad was lucky he served between wars.
You bet. All around.
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