This day has always been an important one in my family. For as far back as I can remember, we have bundled up in as much clothing as possible and headed downtown for the service. Our first stop is always the Sergeant's War Memorial, and our "spot" is right below the retaining wall for the old B.I.S. (now a collection of swishy condominiums). We always met my Uncle John there for the first part of the service and then, my favourite part, followed the parade down to the War Memorial on the waterfront. We walk quickly down Cathedral St. and by the time we reach the bottom the parade has gone thru whatever machinations are required to get them in order and down Church Hill (I've never seen this, and in a "Great and Powerful Oz" kind of way, I never want to...I'm sure it's not as complex or as orderly as I imagine it is). We walk along Duckworth St. with the parade, looking for people we know, admiring the capes the nurses wear, trying to decipher what the different coloured berets mean and, and I swear we do this EVERY year, trying to figure out why the Bus Drivers march in the parade (I can never understand it, although I am glad they do and I would miss them if they stopped). Then we take our second customary spot near the big tree in Harbourside Park for the duration of the "real" service (the one that most people attend). In past years our group has been any combination of my Father, Mother, Uncle John, Aunt Mary, my sister, myself, my best friend Erin, and her boyfriend Jeff. That group has changed: my Uncle John passed away a few years ago (and I never notice his absence so much as when I see that he's not waiting below the B.I.S. for us), some years my Aunt Mary doesn't make it down, my Dad moved to Clarenville (although he still comes in most years), my Mom lives in Texas now, my sister is in Vancouver, and, this year, I am in Halifax. I feel comfortable in assuming that Erin and Jeff made it there this year, and I hope they stood in our spot!
I went to the service here in Halifax, as I did for the three years that I lived here, and it was nice...but not the same. There isn't a parade, and there's only one band (and they certainly ain't the CLB), and the service is much more religious than ours. Also, Nova Scotia doesn't have a provincial anthem, and no one recites "In Flanders Fields". They do, however, play "God Save The Queen" and that is my favourite part. No, I'm not a Monarchist, I don't even know the words to "God Save The Queen"...but I DO know the words to "The Canadian Kilted Yaksmen" and ever since I learned that song (in Grade 6!) and taught it to my little sister, we have quietly sang along every year. Well, this year, freezing my butt off alone in Halifax, while my sister (four hours later) did the same in Vancouver, I had no one to sing with, and I felt my homesickness more keenly than most days. I miss running into people, and the familiar service. I even miss the dude with the Hitler mustache that stands near us some years and drives my sister and I to distraction with curiosity (why does he have that mustache?! Why does he come to a War Memorial Service looking like that?!). I miss hearing the guns on Signal Hill (they fired them from Citadel Hill, but it wasn't the same "BOOM"), I miss looking up at the statues on our War Memorial, especially the Forestry Corp guy that my father always reminds us is for our Poppy. I miss the styrofoam cross that everyone sticks their poppy in (they don't do that here), and I miss them introducing the "Leftenant Governor" (they say "Loo-tenant" here, which I know is "right" but it's wrong as far as I'm concerned). I just miss St. John's in general and I can't wait to get back there. But, I'll be home soon!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Dave Whitty Party lunch
This song gets stuck in my head, and it makes me homesick. Don't ask me to explain why...or to explain the song.
Ironic Beginnings
This blog will most likely be about many things, but its main purpose is to give me a place to explore and celebrate the things that I love and appreciate about my home province. The ironic thing about it is that I am currently living in Timberlea, Nova Scotia, although this situation is short term: I will be returning to Newfoundland in about two months, and this time I feel like it's permanent.
I have always had a love/hate relationship with my home province. I am so proud to be a Newfoundlander, and would defend and/or recommend my province to anyone. Yet, I could never wait to get out of there. My whole childhood I knew I wanted to leave and go live somewhere else, though I always thought I would come back to retire. In 2004 I did just that. After hitting the proverbial rock bottom, I decided that it was time for a big change, and I picked up and moved to Halifax. Not a big move, I grant you (when my Uncle Sid said "Why don't you go west?" I countered with "Halifax is west") but I was not disillusioned with the City of St. John's, just my life in it. I wanted a similar city, and I found that in Halifax. It's much like St. John's, only that little bit bigger and, most importantly for my needs at that time, filled to the brim with people I didn't know. I had a great time in the three years that I spent in The Fax: made lots of great friends, found a job that I loved, and, above all those things, found myself. I know that sounds impossibly hokey, but I really did: I figured out what I wanted to do in school, and started acting in the way that I thought best, and not in the way that I thought people expected me to act.
When I moved home in 2007 I did so with great trepidation...or, to put it more accurately, I was scared shitless. I had been so miserable before my move to Halifax and I was certain I would slip back into that life again. And, to some extent, I did. Don't get me wrong, I made a lot of great friends in St. John's, to add to the select group of lifelong friends that I have kept with me, and I found another great job, and really enjoyed my program at school. And yet, every time something was less than perfect, I once again blamed it on my surroundings: St. John's sucked, and I could not wait to get back to Halifax. To attempt to shorten an already lengthy story, I changed my mind about moving back to Halifax back in May, and decided to give St. John's an honest shot, to actually put some work into improving my life, and to not just complain and place blame every time life was less than perfect. Things do not always go according to plan, however (colour me surprised) and at the request of a friend in a tight spot, I moved back to Halifax for the Fall.
Almost immediately, I see my life in St. John's in a different light. It's amazing how a little distance can put a situation into perspective. I see now that a lot of the troubles I had in my past three years there were either within my power to fix, or not even really troubles at all. I have a wonderful group of friends, a job that, while not my lifelong career plan, satisfies me, and I looooove my city and my province. I don't want to live anywhere else.
So, for the next two months, this blog may either remain dormant, or, more likely, become an outlet for those things and people that I miss most about home. After that, I will use this blog to remind myself to celebrate the place where I live, and to find the good in being at home. Things will not always be great, but there will always be great things, and that should be my focus.
I have always had a love/hate relationship with my home province. I am so proud to be a Newfoundlander, and would defend and/or recommend my province to anyone. Yet, I could never wait to get out of there. My whole childhood I knew I wanted to leave and go live somewhere else, though I always thought I would come back to retire. In 2004 I did just that. After hitting the proverbial rock bottom, I decided that it was time for a big change, and I picked up and moved to Halifax. Not a big move, I grant you (when my Uncle Sid said "Why don't you go west?" I countered with "Halifax is west") but I was not disillusioned with the City of St. John's, just my life in it. I wanted a similar city, and I found that in Halifax. It's much like St. John's, only that little bit bigger and, most importantly for my needs at that time, filled to the brim with people I didn't know. I had a great time in the three years that I spent in The Fax: made lots of great friends, found a job that I loved, and, above all those things, found myself. I know that sounds impossibly hokey, but I really did: I figured out what I wanted to do in school, and started acting in the way that I thought best, and not in the way that I thought people expected me to act.
When I moved home in 2007 I did so with great trepidation...or, to put it more accurately, I was scared shitless. I had been so miserable before my move to Halifax and I was certain I would slip back into that life again. And, to some extent, I did. Don't get me wrong, I made a lot of great friends in St. John's, to add to the select group of lifelong friends that I have kept with me, and I found another great job, and really enjoyed my program at school. And yet, every time something was less than perfect, I once again blamed it on my surroundings: St. John's sucked, and I could not wait to get back to Halifax. To attempt to shorten an already lengthy story, I changed my mind about moving back to Halifax back in May, and decided to give St. John's an honest shot, to actually put some work into improving my life, and to not just complain and place blame every time life was less than perfect. Things do not always go according to plan, however (colour me surprised) and at the request of a friend in a tight spot, I moved back to Halifax for the Fall.
Almost immediately, I see my life in St. John's in a different light. It's amazing how a little distance can put a situation into perspective. I see now that a lot of the troubles I had in my past three years there were either within my power to fix, or not even really troubles at all. I have a wonderful group of friends, a job that, while not my lifelong career plan, satisfies me, and I looooove my city and my province. I don't want to live anywhere else.
So, for the next two months, this blog may either remain dormant, or, more likely, become an outlet for those things and people that I miss most about home. After that, I will use this blog to remind myself to celebrate the place where I live, and to find the good in being at home. Things will not always be great, but there will always be great things, and that should be my focus.
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