Last Sunday marked 100 years since the end of the Great War. It ended too late for my two great uncles: William lost in Flanders aged 21 and Harry who returned shell shocked to a reclusive life on Sydney’s North Shore.
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I was in Tumut on Sunday for the evening Remembrance Service in Pioneer Park, (11am in Flanders). One hundred lanterns floated on the lake, frogs providing a choir as the Last Post played.
I wept for William, Harry and those young lives shattered in the Great War. Sadly wars did not end there. We should remember.
Generations of the young have gone to war for things bigger than themselves – the protection of freedom and love of country.
Those who were lucky returned to valleys and farms, to anxious sweethearts, overjoyed mothers, to the absence of mates and a painful transition to civilian life.
In peace time, how do we honour these past generations of young men and women?
Peace can create political self-indulgence and the Canberra bubble sounds a warning bell.
There is a lot at stake today and the young do not have to go to war to risk their future.
While the reef bleaches, rivers dry up and farmers struggle with unprecedented drought, the whiff of fossil fuel lobbyists hangs about the government.
To honour the fallen we must mobilise ingenuity, integrity and effort for causes worthy of sacrifice.
Slogans, baseball caps and meat pies do nothing but squander the future and trash our collective respect.