Back when we were fab
VE Day. I don't actually remember it with a personal perspective, but I was already around -- I'm somewhat shocked to realize. I was 2 1/2, so whatever celebrating was going on, I probably looked more to Mom's tit for potables, than anything stronger. But, what a rush it must have been, I can only speculate. After nearly six years of unspeakable horrors, it was over -- not with a bang, but a whimper.
Actually, with a 'bang' too, in a lot of instances. A venerable lady I once interviewed told me of having been in Trafalgar Square on VE Day. She said, despite the revelries she, of relatively tender years then, was advised by her male friend to be circumspect about where she looked, since there, as she said, "so much standing-up screwing going on." So, we celebrated, we drank and we fucked, and we tried as much as possible to forget about what actually had gone on, and how many of our friends and family members were not there any longer to join in the celebration. That same aforementioned lady also told me it was jubilation mixed with an undercurrent of depression about what the human race had proved itself capable of. What it was capable of was something far removed from being godly.
Nobody in our disgustingly pampered society can even begin to conceive of the sacrifices of those who were there. Nobody in that same society can conceive of the state-of-mind at the time, we can only speculate. But, our speculations will be false.
My mother once told me how her younger brother, who was 17 at the time, and just finished high school, was depressed on VE Day because the war in Europe was over. He wanted to join up, you see, but his mother had insisted he finish high school. Finally finished with school, and the war was over! But, he was a bit heartened by the fact the war with Japan was still raging in that pre-Hiroshima spring of 1945. "The Japs will go on fighting for years!" was the sentiment he consoled himself with. He was wrong. And that was a good thing. He went on to become a prominent pathologist, raised a lovely family, and is now enjoying a very contented retirement, well away from Iwo Jima, or wherever.
So, Canada finished its war well. It is difficult to conceive, but in 1945 Canada actually possessed the third largest army and navy in the world. It truly was time for us to take our place in the greater scheme of things. Sensing a certain rejection because we weren't invited to join the UN Security Council, we were still bigtime contenders.
Now we're not. Like lapsed recovering drunks, we have chosen the "easier, softer way". We are whining, wingeing vague semblances of what we once were, and we consistently elect governments that covet such sentiments in their constituents.
Once we were heroes. Now we are teeny-tiny also rans who still wrestle with our identity and lack thereof. In the spring of 1945, back when we were "fab", we had an identity and let no motherfucker even dream of denying us that.
But, I guess you had to be there.
Actually, with a 'bang' too, in a lot of instances. A venerable lady I once interviewed told me of having been in Trafalgar Square on VE Day. She said, despite the revelries she, of relatively tender years then, was advised by her male friend to be circumspect about where she looked, since there, as she said, "so much standing-up screwing going on." So, we celebrated, we drank and we fucked, and we tried as much as possible to forget about what actually had gone on, and how many of our friends and family members were not there any longer to join in the celebration. That same aforementioned lady also told me it was jubilation mixed with an undercurrent of depression about what the human race had proved itself capable of. What it was capable of was something far removed from being godly.
Nobody in our disgustingly pampered society can even begin to conceive of the sacrifices of those who were there. Nobody in that same society can conceive of the state-of-mind at the time, we can only speculate. But, our speculations will be false.
My mother once told me how her younger brother, who was 17 at the time, and just finished high school, was depressed on VE Day because the war in Europe was over. He wanted to join up, you see, but his mother had insisted he finish high school. Finally finished with school, and the war was over! But, he was a bit heartened by the fact the war with Japan was still raging in that pre-Hiroshima spring of 1945. "The Japs will go on fighting for years!" was the sentiment he consoled himself with. He was wrong. And that was a good thing. He went on to become a prominent pathologist, raised a lovely family, and is now enjoying a very contented retirement, well away from Iwo Jima, or wherever.
So, Canada finished its war well. It is difficult to conceive, but in 1945 Canada actually possessed the third largest army and navy in the world. It truly was time for us to take our place in the greater scheme of things. Sensing a certain rejection because we weren't invited to join the UN Security Council, we were still bigtime contenders.
Now we're not. Like lapsed recovering drunks, we have chosen the "easier, softer way". We are whining, wingeing vague semblances of what we once were, and we consistently elect governments that covet such sentiments in their constituents.
Once we were heroes. Now we are teeny-tiny also rans who still wrestle with our identity and lack thereof. In the spring of 1945, back when we were "fab", we had an identity and let no motherfucker even dream of denying us that.
But, I guess you had to be there.
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