|Front and Center.|
I stood with my family to watch the Remembrance Day celebrations.
We had to stand because there were no seats left in the packed, gi-normous, seats-a-million, Edmonton Butterdome.
Yes, it looks like a huge chunk of butter.
And no it doesn’t really seat a million.
Moving on . . .
Our son, Erik was part of the Edmonton City Police Honour Guard.
We’ve watched him march in numerous parades.
He’s easy to pick out.
Always right marker.
Because he stands a head taller than anyone else.
Hear the buttons popping? That would be me. Pride does that to a mom.
Back to my story . . .
Two things stood out in my mind.
First, watching my son.
Second, watching those young men and women - and some not so young - representing all branches of the service as they stood in their ranks across the broad field.
As the celebration drew long, several of them, as my son puts it, ‘thundered in’.
That is the PC term for what happens when the human body is expected to remain motionless in a rigid stance for a long period of time. It gets light-headed. And, sometimes, loses consciousness.
The medics were kept busy in the latter half of the celebration, escorting soldiers off the field.
As I watched those young people making their rather wobble-legged way to the edge of the grounds, it occurred to me that those people we put up there on a pedestal are human.
Just like us.
They have weaknesses and are subject to physical limitations. Fatigue. Hunger. Illness. Fear. Sorrow.
Just like us.
They don’t have super powers. Can’t fly, don’t have x-ray vision, are not impervious to pain and certainly can’t make bullets bounce off their chests.
And yet, they are out there on the front line, putting everything they have between us and anyone who might try to hurt or deprive or enslave us.
Despite their human frailties.
And that makes them, in my eyes, even greater heroes.