Eleventh hour of the eleventh day

So, on this hot-off-the-camera apparently pointless photo, you'll see the random gaggle of stuff that hangs around the base of my monitor here at work. Paper shredder, tape dispenser, tissue box (an indispensable part of life for Yours Nasally), craft made by one of the staff for our usual Saturday craft activity, assorted weird toys (I get a kick out of seeing what people choose to fidget with when they're standing in the office), post-it notes, poppy...

Yeah, you've probably already guessed -- if you're from a Commonwealth country, that is -- that the poppy doesn't usually sit on my desk. I'd only just taken it off of my coat, you see, since eleven o'clock has passed.

I'm kind of torn about Remembrance Day, to be honest. On the one hand, I like to see people wearing poppies. Even if a person's doing it only because it's "the thing", there's always a chance that it might make someone stop and think for a moment. I think that the commemoration of those who served is important. I think that Lest We Forget needs to be more than just a motto.

On the other hand, I'm working today instead of commemorating. I haven't been to a service in years. Oh sure, I'll generally have the national service on the television if I happen to be home on Remembrance Day morning, but I can't really say that I observe my own personal two minutes of silence. I worry that commemoration turns too easily into glorification, and war is a stupid, wasteful thing (for both the servicemen and the civilians involved) that should never be glorified.

And on the other hand...

Yep. I have three hands today. Told you I was a bit torn.

The third hand? The fact that I wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for war. My Canadian grandfather met my English grandmother when he was serving in World War II. My father was born in England. I never knew my grandfather since he died when my father was a teenager, but his war service is the reason I'm here.

I've just noticed how many times I've used variations of the word service in this post. Memorial services, services to a country... isn't it a shame that we as a species haven't figured out a way for men (and women these days) to serve their country without leading to the memorial kind of service?

Anyway. I should get back to work. How to end my annual Remembrance ramble (as in, I'm sure if you searched the archives you'd find much the same blather every 11/11)? I don't know. Maybe I'll just say that I make sure to wear a poppy every year (and pay for it too, by the way), and I suppose you can draw your own conclusions from there.

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One quick comment about the 11-11-11 thing that the interwebs seem to think is so exciting: Yeah, I guess. It's a little less exciting when you think about how arbitrary our current system of numbering days, months, and years is, but... yeah, I guess.