2 Friday, November 3, 2017 brooklintowncrier.com Less than Half the Picture: By Richard Bercuson The Poppy...because... About 12 years ago, my son decided to seek adventure and travel through Europe. Not yet encumbered with trivialities like a wife, kids, and job, he traipsed here and there, from the mountains of Spain to a coastal town in England where he became the only one of eight great grandchildren to meet his great-grandmother. One destination was Juno Beach in Normandy. His grandfather, my dad Bernard, was a war veteran, having flown with the RCAF and RAF in Ferry Command and in Halifax bombers as a wireless air gunner. He hadn't shared many tales with his two elder grandchildren, my son and daughter. It didn't matter. That he'd experienced the conflict at all was sufficient. From Juno, my son duplicated what I'd done years before during a hockey coaching sojourn in France when I'd called my dad from Dunkirk to tell him where I was. My kid phoned him from the beach. Dad wasn't one to show much emotion about the war, but this touched him. Then and now, my son continues to wear a poppy as a sign of respect and remembrance. What's special about it is that he lives in the U.S. where he's a middle and high school teacher. He wore the poppy through his university days there and naturally it attracted attention, as it still does. Students ask about it which prompts a brief history lesson since Americans don't wear poppies, mostly just those in the U.K., South Africa, Australia and New Zealand do. During my France experience an epoch ago, I wore my poppy on Nov. 11 during that country's spectacular Paris Armistice Day celebration along the Champs Elysees. I wasn't alone since the boulevard was jammed with both French and visitors alike, most of whom seemed to bear one. I came from a country that hadn't known first-hand conflict on its lands for generations. Here I was in the midst of a nation whose people had endured the horrors of war twice in 40 years and only one generation removed. Our subdued, respectful approach is understandable. There, the exuberance was palatable. Back in Canada, the Ottawa school I taught at was barely a kilometre from the National War Memorial. I'd walk down after the Nov. 11 ceremony to lay my poppy on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I'd write Dad's initials, BDB, on the inside. The first time I did it, as I elbowed my way through the peaceful throngs, I phoned him since he always watched the ceremony on TV and took time to reflect. "Dad, you watched the ceremony?" "Yes." "You saw people putting their pop- pies on the tomb." "Yes." "I'm doing that right now." "Why?" he asked. "Just because," I answered. Next week, in an American classroom, my kid is about to educate someone new while his sister here in Brooklin, like me, like all of us, wears her poppy just because. "Proud to be a Brooklinite" Founded in 2000 Published 24 times annually Editor, Richard Bercuson 613-769-8629 editorofbtc@gmail.com Locally owned and operated. A publication of Appletree Graphic Design Inc. We accept advertising in good faith but do not endorse advertisers nor advertisements. All editorial submissions are subject to editing. For advertising information, contact: 905-655-7642 Email: mulcahy42@rogers.com Next Issue: Friday, November 17, 2017 Deadline: Friday, November 10, 2017 16 Winchester Road East, Unit 5, Brooklin winchesterdental.ca