This past weekend was Easter, my birthday, our wedding anniversary, and ANZAC Day/Easter Monday. The confluence of events was all a bit too much, really, but we managed.
I'm used to sharing my birthday/anniversary weekend with ANZAC Day since I have no choice. ANZAC Day is April 25th, it doesn't shift. My birthday/anniversary is April 23rd, it doesn't shift either. (I still think John was a little devious doubling up on my birthday/anniversary presents by scheduling our wedding on my birthday, but at least this way he doesn't forget, provided of course I remind him.)
It wasn't a big birthday or anniversary this year, so we decided it would be celebrated working at Struan Farm. (We're odd, we know, but we like having extended time to get stuck into work projects.) On Monday morning, however, we went into Piopio for the annual ANZAC commemoration at the centotaph, a service that John's dad Maurie led for sixty years. It is not the same without him, to be honest. I miss Maurie, and I suspect Piopio does too.
Maurie won the Military Cross for bravery and a number of other service medals during WW2. He took part in the battle of El Alamein, amongst others. We've kept his medals and will eventually frame them properly:
In the box with his medals is a fuzzy, old black & white photograph, in a hammered silver frame, with a note on the back in Rosemary's handwriting "Maurie, 21, Papakura Camp." He is in his uniform and this would have been taken while he was stationed at the Papakura Army Camp before he went off to war:
The ANZAC Day remembrance ceremony is very much the same all over New Zealand: local veterans march in uniform, there's the same order of service with the same hymns and prayers, the national anthem is sung, and wreaths are laid by local community groups. It ends with "The Last Call" as the flag is lowered before a minute of silence, and "Reveille" as it's raised afterward.
The service continues to have great significance throughout the country. Everyone buys their poppies to wear to benefit the RSA. And every year the recognition of this sacrifice brings tears to my eyes. While I grew up in the USA with annual Memorial and Veteran's Day remembrances, the sacrifice of war is much more poignant in New Zealand, where many little towns lost most of their men to war. Names of the dead are read out at the local service in Piopio, so that the scale of the loss is clear and not forgotten by current generations. War seemed much more emotionally distant to me in the US than it does in NZ, perhaps due to Maurie.
We will remember them.
Its great to see you back.
Its always lovely to read your blog and find out what you are doing these days.
We must catch up soon
Posted by: Nicky | 04/27/2011 at 07:06 PM
Thanks Nicky! Lots of good blog posts coming after the wee (much needed) break. Hope you had a good Easter. xxKB
Posted by: Karen | 04/27/2011 at 07:54 PM
What a lovely remembrance. I'm amazed, although the photo is old and fuzzy, I can recognize some of John's features in the old picture of Maurie. I feel lucky to have met both of John's parents and remember them fondly.
Posted by: Katie Alvord | 04/29/2011 at 10:44 AM