At Eleven a.m. today we paused briefly and remembered.
Across the world, in different countries people were remembering.
In my childhood I recall that everything stopped, it was as though the clocks stopped ticking and the Birds stopped singing. But then my Childhood was so much closer to the events not only of WW1 but even more so of WW2.
Then people were remembering their friends, families and colleagues in arms.
In Italy, Remembrance Day is the 4th of November, the day of the Armistice of Villa Giusti, although in recent years it has been transferred to the first Sunday in November.
We will keep Remembrance Day on Sunday, with a special service and prayers in the Chiesa Anglicana, I plan to say something about my experiences with the Charity Toc H which helped me to re-engage with the events of Remembrance.
For other people of course recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the corteges that have passed solemnly through the town of Wootten Bassett, and the news headlines recording yet another death of a young man or woman in a distant conflict, far removed from home and family, has brought home the reality that throughout the so called peace of recent years, wars have raged across the world and innocent people have lost their lives.
In the midst of remembering every day events continue to challenge and disturb.
Yesterday we walked down past the area where flooding had ravaged the centre of Genoa and where lives had been lost. The underpasses were being pumped out and volunteers were busy clearing away the mud and detritus of glass frontages and shutters, that had been washed away by the force of the flood, along with the contents of window displays.
At one point we passed a tent on the side walk and realised that it was a stall selling mud caked shoes, presumably washed out of the shop windows and into the underpasses.
There were trays of shoes, some presumably having been on display for hundreds of Euros, this being the best shopping street in Genoa, all were now for sale for twenty euros, I imagine that the proceeds would go to some Charity for those affected in some way by the floods.
It was a bizarre sight, mud drenched designer shoes in plastic trays being sorted through by bargain hunters, it had the feel of a Harrods Sale, post deluge.
Today in the Co-op the in-house critic had to use the facilities, having acquired the 'chiavi', I put our shopping down briefly to open the door only to see a figure scurrying to where I had left the basket of shopping for which at that point we had paid and which contained the ingredients for our weekend meals.
I moved swiftly and headed the young man off at the pass.
Minutes later I heard a commotion to see him being escorted from the premises by a member of staff who had retrieved a bottle of spirits from his coat pocket.
Excitement, danger, threat. The adjectives that describe urban life.
Each day as we walk through the wealthy streets of this affluent town we are amazed and disturbed by the people, fellow citizens of post war Europe, who are forced to beg for the essentials to sustain life, and yet ..........
Only a week or so ago I read the Gospel for All Saints Day, it is a manifesto for saints, the poor at heart, those who mourn, the merciful, all who seek peace.
For them at least let us keep a silence on Remembrance Day.
Across the world, in different countries people were remembering.
In my childhood I recall that everything stopped, it was as though the clocks stopped ticking and the Birds stopped singing. But then my Childhood was so much closer to the events not only of WW1 but even more so of WW2.
Then people were remembering their friends, families and colleagues in arms.
In Italy, Remembrance Day is the 4th of November, the day of the Armistice of Villa Giusti, although in recent years it has been transferred to the first Sunday in November.
We will keep Remembrance Day on Sunday, with a special service and prayers in the Chiesa Anglicana, I plan to say something about my experiences with the Charity Toc H which helped me to re-engage with the events of Remembrance.
For other people of course recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the corteges that have passed solemnly through the town of Wootten Bassett, and the news headlines recording yet another death of a young man or woman in a distant conflict, far removed from home and family, has brought home the reality that throughout the so called peace of recent years, wars have raged across the world and innocent people have lost their lives.
In the midst of remembering every day events continue to challenge and disturb.
Yesterday we walked down past the area where flooding had ravaged the centre of Genoa and where lives had been lost. The underpasses were being pumped out and volunteers were busy clearing away the mud and detritus of glass frontages and shutters, that had been washed away by the force of the flood, along with the contents of window displays.
At one point we passed a tent on the side walk and realised that it was a stall selling mud caked shoes, presumably washed out of the shop windows and into the underpasses.
There were trays of shoes, some presumably having been on display for hundreds of Euros, this being the best shopping street in Genoa, all were now for sale for twenty euros, I imagine that the proceeds would go to some Charity for those affected in some way by the floods.
It was a bizarre sight, mud drenched designer shoes in plastic trays being sorted through by bargain hunters, it had the feel of a Harrods Sale, post deluge.
Today in the Co-op the in-house critic had to use the facilities, having acquired the 'chiavi', I put our shopping down briefly to open the door only to see a figure scurrying to where I had left the basket of shopping for which at that point we had paid and which contained the ingredients for our weekend meals.
I moved swiftly and headed the young man off at the pass.
Minutes later I heard a commotion to see him being escorted from the premises by a member of staff who had retrieved a bottle of spirits from his coat pocket.
Excitement, danger, threat. The adjectives that describe urban life.
Each day as we walk through the wealthy streets of this affluent town we are amazed and disturbed by the people, fellow citizens of post war Europe, who are forced to beg for the essentials to sustain life, and yet ..........
Only a week or so ago I read the Gospel for All Saints Day, it is a manifesto for saints, the poor at heart, those who mourn, the merciful, all who seek peace.
For them at least let us keep a silence on Remembrance Day.
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