As a kid growing up in Canada, I was well aware of Remembrance Day thanks to school events, but actually attending a ceremony was not a tradition for my family — not, at least, until I became an air cadet.
Being an only child in an immigrant family, my parents loved the idea of having me “learn a bit more self-discipline” and what better way to instill that than to introduce their daughter to the Royal Canadian Air Cadet program.
Although, it didn’t quite turn out as planned for them.
Yes, I did learn self-discipline as a member of the 819 Delta Skyhawks Squadron. I also learned how to work as a team with other youths, how to play the flute in a marching band, how to speak publicly, how to embody leadership. I even got to experience flying a plane.
But what my parents hadn’t counted on was how much fun I was going to have and how many friends I would make while doing all of the above. In fact, at one point they wanted to pull me out of the program thinking I couldn’t really be learning discipline if I was enjoying myself so much.
Guess who won that debate.
But while cadets was a place to build friendships and learn skills, what sticks with me most from the whole experience is a deep appreciation of Remembrance Day.
Every year, our squadron would participate in the annual parades. And every year it was cold, wet and windy.
Standing in foul weather, holding a metal flute for four hours made my hands and fingers feel like they were being stuck in a block of ice.
“The wind is not cold, pretend it is blowing through you,” our drum major, who would lead the marching band, would always say.
Trust me, it was harder to drill that in my head than anything else.
If one person forgot to bring their designated cadet blue jacket, no one else in the band could wear theirs. And I only ever remember wearing mine once on Remembrance Day in the five years of my cadet career.
However, no one in the band or in the squadron ever complained — not once. Why? Because we knew this was nothing compared to what those who sacrificed their lives for our country experienced.
Remembrance Day was not about our chilled bones or our stiff muscles, we knew it was about them. Them, who suffered on the battlefield. Them, who lost loved ones and friends. Them, who suffered a lot more than wind and rain.
Even my parents, who initially came to the ceremony just to watch their daughter in the parade, were moved.
They saw something in this group of youth standing and marching alongside other veterans and military members and found themselves also staying for the entire ceremony.
It was also not lost on us that these parades honour more than those who fought and died, they also salute active members who are risking their lives today for the civilians of their countries.
Since graduating from cadets, I don’t play the flute much and I’ve never tried to fly a plane again, but what I do do every year is honour Remembrance Day.
The last couple of years have been unsettling, something was missing. I understand why the event was held virtually, but it wasn’t the same.
I look forward to once again hearing the bugler play The Last Post, the two minutes of silence and the bagpiper play The Lament. The feeling of relief that follows is something I can’t explain.
Was it from standing too long? Or maybe it was knowing I could be indoors and warm soon?
It is too much for me to assume it was the same relief the soldiers felt on Nov. 11, 1918 at 11 a.m.
