Oh, man, it’s going to be a cold one out there this
morning – notice the frost framing the window and on the lawn that kind of
looks like a skating rink in the background (see photo). This is when I finally
break out that nice warm winter charity-shop coat I got for myself a number of
weeks back in anticipation of just this very scenario!
Straightened my hair today for the very first time
since coming to England. I thought it looked great! Myfanwy had a definite
opinion – No! (You’ve got perfectly
lovely hair, why would you want to look like a teenager?!)
A great time was had by all in the nursery - the
time practically flew by. Ella cried for
only a second when daddy first dropped her off. (Did I ever mention I REALLY
like kids?!)
After the announcements, the bishop, who was
presiding, said as it was Remembrance Day, though we would NOT stand (I take that
to mean it has been the routine sometime in the past), that we would now express our
sentiment by observing two minutes of silence. Wow, we don’t do that in America!
Also many were wearing Remembrance Day poppies on their lapels or blouses - used to be more common in
the past back home, in memory of Veterans Day (artificial red poppies sold by
the VFW - Veterans of Foreign Wars - as a fund raiser). In Primary they even
had a paper poppy for anyone to cut out, color and pin on if they wanted to.
[Remembrance Day,
also known as Poppy Day or Armistice Day, is observed on 11 November to recall the end of hostilities
of World War I and to remember the members of the armed forces who died in the
line of duty. Observed in America on the same date, it is known as Veteran’s
Day. Hostilities formally ended "at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the
11th month," in accordance with the Armistice. The date was specifically set
aside by King George V in 1919 as a day of
remembrance for members of the armed forces who were killed during World War I,
the war to end all wars – or so they thought at the time. The red remembrance
poppy has become a familiar emblem of the day due to the poem ‘In Flanders
Fields.’ These poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields in France
during the war, their brilliant red colour an appropriate symbol for the blood
spilled in the war.
In the United
Kingdom, two minutes of silence are observed on this date, usually as a part of
honorary ceremonies held at local war memorials, where the start and end of the
silence is often marked by the firing of a cannon. And typically, poppy wreaths
are laid by representatives of the Crown, the armed forces, and local civic
leaders. A minute or two of silence is also frequently incorporated into church
services.
The First Two Minute
Silence in London, 11 November 1919, as reported in the Manchester Guardian:
The first stroke of
eleven produced a magical effect. The tram cars glided into stillness, motors
ceased to cough and fume, and stopped dead, and the mighty-limbed dray horses
hunched back upon their loads and stopped also, seeming to do it of their own
volition. Someone took off his hat, and with a nervous hesitancy the rest of
the men bowed their heads also. Here and there an old soldier could be detected
slipping unconsciously into the posture of 'attention'. An elderly woman, not
far away, wiped her eyes, and the man beside her looked white and stern.
Everyone stood very still ... the hush deepened. It had spread over the whole
city and become so pronounced as to impress one with a sense of audibility. It
was a silence which was almost pain ... and the spirit of memory brooded over
it all. (The last three living British-resident
veterans of World War I attended
the 2008 ceremony but all died in 2009.)
In Flanders
fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
On my Google today (there’s a small ‘uk’
beneath the ‘l’) appears an image of a small red poppy about
3/4s of an inch below where it says ‘Google Search’ and ‘I’m Feeling Lucky.’]
Sacrament meeting was the Primary
sacrament meeting presentation. (It was really cute because Ella, who is becoming more and more vocal, was urgently waving that kind of little baby wave and calling out Kaki, Kaki, to her big sister.) The theme centered on Choosing the Right,
beginning with the gift we receive from our Father to be free to choose – in
other words, our agency: HOW can we best choose, WHAT are the best choices to
make, and WHO are good examples of making right choices. Excellent! Leah mainly
wrote the text, with input from her counselors. One thing I really liked was
that the older classes gave their parts as short talks that they’d written
themselves. As Leah pointed out, these young saints will have the chance of
going on missions earlier than ever before and need every opportunity to internalize
the principles they’ve been learning at home and in their classes at church.
Only one (group) sighting of ADD – and that
would be the bishop’s own kids. The oldest is a beautiful, sweet girl, Emily, just
Brooklyn’s age and position in her family – no problem there. (I just know
Brooklyn and Emily would be best friends if they lived near one another – looks
similar to an angelic Adeline); next a boy, Sam, about 8-9 (not bad), and then
there was Thomas, 6, – the one Katya plans on marrying (a definite case of ADD
there – I wonder if Katya knows!), and lastly Estelle, probably about 4 (no
question! but then she’s excused because she’s little, where this kind of
antsy-ness is practically expected). This
family of four children sang a song up at the front together, and at the
conclusion, Estelle pretty much punched Thomas, who was standing behind her, as
if to say, ‘back off, buddy – can’t you see we’re done!’ (After church I asked
the bishop if he knew what ADD was, and if by any chance this had been a challenge
for him growing up. He confessed, ‘yes,’ that Thomas was him all over again!)
Following church Leah had ward council so Martin
drove the rest of us around for a little sightseeing tour. You know who loved
that! Besides seeing where Martin and Leah lived in Smethwick (said with an
unvoiced ‘th’ and the ‘w’ silent) in their first apartment (Martin tells me
that hotels here have been known on occasion to rent rooms by the hour), we
drove down the main street of another area in the same vicinity called Soho –
not to be confused with SoHo in Lower Manhattan or Soho in the West End of
London. An abbreviation of South House,
Soho is a very ethnically diverse
area, due to immigration from the Commonwealth (the Commonwealth of Nations, an
association of former members of the British Empire) during the 50s and 60s,
most of Asian origin (in England this term refers to persons from Indian,
Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, etc.). In shop after shop along
this boulevard were displayed the most beautiful Asian garments, with lots of shiny
cloth, and gold and glitter. Martin told me that Leah had taken Summer here
when she came to visit and she’d gotten a couple blouses. We also drove past
and admired a beautiful, very expensively-constructed Sikh temple (known as Gurwara
in Punjabi) adorned in marble.
Leah had to deliver some flowers
to a lady a ways away (long story) after we'd finished with dinner and asked if I’d mind coming with her to
steady the vase, prior to dropping me off. Is the pope a Catholic?! (I actually
had been hoping she’d ask me if I wouldn’t mind taking the long way home. Maybe
she read my mind!) The surprising thing is that Oliver asked if he could also
ride along with us. He was very much a part of our conversation – telling jokes
and amazing us with his whiz-bang memory. At one point he asked me if I was
going to be joining them for such and such, and added, ‘because you know,
auntie honey bee, I love you.’ Oh, melt my heart!! (This interaction has helped
me recognize something I’ve hadn’t comprehended before. Very often when I meet
up with their family – at Tiverton (the pool) or Raddlebarn (their school),
usually because I need to talk over something with Leah, Oliver will inquire,
‘are you coming to our house?’ He always looks kind of, as I’ve been
interpreting it, suspiciously askance when he asks me that – like he wished I
wasn’t, that I’d be interrupting their routine or something. Usually the answer
is no, and he makes no further comment.
Me, big psychologist that I am – how could I
be SO dense/! It never dawned on me that the behavior of a child would be
anything other than what is readily visible on the surface. I so underestimated
those basic, heartfelt emotions that ruN deep. Suddenly I’m seeing things
differently – he is asking because he hopes the answer is yes. Of course,
that’s what I would have wished was for, but had never really gotten it before,
thinking he was hoping for the opposite. Pretty sweet, you dear little guy.
Did I have a lovely Sabbath? Yes, I did. (Not
to mention Leah’s wonderful cooking!)
Photos_
1- what I saw first thing out my window
2- Remembrance Day
3- last surviving vets
4- Gurdwara
5- my boy, Oliver
