Me, me, me

Bought a poppy from a veteran at the local mall this afternoon. I asked him if he would tell me about the medals he was wearing. He served for four years in the European theatre, starting in 1939. After he pinned my poppy on I told him that I was glad that he'd made it home in one piece. He smiled and looked me in the eye and said, quite casually, "Yeah, but I was nuts." There's an interesting story there. I'd love to take some vets out for a beer sometime. I wonder what they'd say if I popped in at the local legion hall? It's something D. and I have always wanted to do. Maybe when we get a little more free of babies and children. In the meantime, I will go along with U. when she and her Brownie troop join in a Remembrance Day parade and ceremony at the Cenotaph near here. These old guys won't be around for much longer. I think we should honour them and hear their stories while we can, and be glad there aren't more veterans from the younger generations. I hope there won't be in my children's lifetimes either.