Veteran

We never talked about it much when I was a kid, but my dad is a veteran. 

He served his term in the Canadian Armed Forces as a member of the Royal Canadian Navy in the 1960s, proudly working and touring the world on several of Canada’s Tribal-class destroyers. 

At 18 years old, it was clear dad was too smart for his own good but doing dumb things with those smarts, typical of the reckless rebellion of a teenager on the cusp of manhood. 

The Navy became his trade school, his university education, and his induction into adulthood. He earned a trade and an aptitude that would serve him well in life. He also learned about humanity in a way few of us will. This service remains a source of quiet pride for my father. 

His father, my grandfather, served in the British Armed Forces in both World Wars, including supervising a prisoner of war camp in northern Ontario in the Second World War. My dad’s mother, my nana, worked in a munitions factory in Ajax during WWII. It was her first and only paid job in her lifetime. 

Dad’s much older brother Jack also served in WWII. Service to your country over yourself was in the bloodline. 

Many of my father’s navy stories were too colourful for my young imagination, but the ones I’ve heard are the stuff of legends. The characters in his stories, his shipmates, were outrageous and their adventures were wild. The rebel-rousing of a sailor’s life and the mischief that ensued. 

Or that time he spent on a submarine, where he went for his smoke break, climbing the ladder to the deck, unaware that they were already submerged and he wasn’t getting that smoke for days (gives a new definition to nicotine fit). 

The long days and nights in the constant motion of sea swells. He tells harrowing details about what it’s like to be tied to the outside of a destroyer in high seas in the north Atlantic. No thank you.

And his tales of mysterious incidents in the Bermuda Triangle are spooky. Burials at sea gone wrong. Not funny, but funny. Being a part of missions that Canadians supported that were never made public.

Allegiances and peacekeeping forged in the character of our nation’s history. He was there. 

One warm afternoon, my father and I sat on the front porch enjoying a cup of coffee and I took the opportunity to ask him something it’s hard to believe I’d never asked him before: what did it mean to him to serve his country?

My dad said he signed up because he wanted to prove something to himself, and prove to his family that he could make it on his own. 

He said that there were hard days, really hard times, but there were more good ones too. It was an education in a trade and a way to learn about the world beyond.

But this is what I’ll always hold on to: my dad said that there wasn’t a single day that he woke up and didn’t feel like he had a purpose. His role in the Navy had a purpose. It was important work. That motivated him. Every day.

On Remembrance Day, pause and give thanks to those who made the ultimate sacrifice so you could wake up today with a purpose. 

Give thanks for those who continue to stand on guard to ensure Canada remains strong and free. 

Thank you, dad.

Thank you, veterans.