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Remembrance Day · I’ve al­ways cared about Re­mem­brance Day; nev­er been to war, but I’ve lived close to a cou­ple and seen what hap­pens when the wrong peo­ple win one. But here in Canada, those mem­o­ries are grow­ing dim; my un­cle Allen Scott died in the Nether­lands in 1944, but the num­ber of peo­ple with even that di­rect a con­nec­tion to what we still call “The War” is grow­ing small­er (and I just came back from a pleas­ant vis­it to Ger­many, hang­ing out with our for­mer en­e­mies). That was un­til this decade. Now, our young peo­ple are falling in war in Afghanistan; these ones, I mean. I’m touched to see that some of them are hav­ing their iden­ti­ties im­mor­tal­ized on­line; thanks to whoever’s do­ing that work. The bad guys in Afghanistan are re­al­ly gen­uine­ly bad; I don’t think there are many of us who ob­ject to tak­ing them on, or to try­ing to give the long-suffering Afghans a leg up. Lots of Cana­di­ans are wor­ried whether what we we’re try­ing to do can be done; and it doesn’t help that our work in Afghanistan makes us a nom­i­nal al­ly of one side in the botched, du­plic­i­tous, bru­tal war next door. What­ev­er; Re­mem­brance day is—or should be, anyhow—becoming more rel­e­van­t, more vi­tal, more cen­tral. But the troops that are im­por­tant are the ones who are alive and work­ing; if you’re a Cana­di­an you can send ’em a mes­sage; I as­sume oth­er coun­tries have sim­i­lar sys­tem­s. [Up­date: What Rob said.]
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