I have been an avid listener of the Grown-ups Read Things They Wrote as Kids(GRTTWaK) podcast for quite a while. I often listen and chuckle along to the half-hour-ish episodes while getting ready for work in the morning, a practice which never fails to help me start the day off in a great mood. The episodes are recorded at live events across the country, and I was dreaming of the day that a Charlottetown date would be announced.
When such a date WAS finally announced, I made my way to my parents' basement, digging eagerly through boxes of childhood keepsakes when I stumbled upon the most hilarious, perfect story ever, that I knew would be a total hit at the event.
But.
I turned over the sheet of paper and saw, written in Mom's handwriting - "Rosalyn's Story, 1992".
Needless to say, I was devastated. Nothing I'd found of my own, save a very visuals-heavy picture book I'd created at age five (that didn't lend itself to being read in front of a crowd) seemed right. So I was on a mission to encourage my reluctant sister to read her short fiction, "The Foal" that had my parents and I laughing so hard upon our initial reaidng of it as to have tears streaming down our faces.
Being an absolutely wonderful sport, Rosie agreed to read the story, and so we submitted an application. I won't put the quote I used to describe the story here, as I feel it would be too much of a spoiler. All I will say, is that Rosalyn unknowingly created a whole new genre of children's fiction, which Dan alludes to following her performance. She told me beforehand that I'd better act as her plant in the audience, and laugh at appropriate spots, in case no one else did, but she needn't have worried, because barely two lines in, the surprised and amused audience chimed right in, enjoying her story as much as I did.
If you'd like to have a listen to her piece, written when she was just ten years old, you can check out the podcast episode below (and you'll also get the treat of hearing several other readings that were among my favourites for the night). Rosalyn is last, at around the 24-25 minute mark.
So much thanks to Dan and Jenna - a lovely fellow former Stylelist Canada (RIP) alum that I got to meet in person! - for coming up with this genius podcast and for organizing the most enjoyable, hilarious and touching event I've been to in ages. Come back to PEI soon!!
It's hard to believe how young my grandfather looks in this photo. My dad told me that here, he was probably about 18 years old. He stands with his brother-in-law (centre) Tom, and his brother Jim. Grampa and Uncle Tom were the lucky ones. They were wounded but lived through World War II. Grampa was able to marry his British sweetheart, bring her home to Canada and eventually to see his sons and granddaughters grow up. Always a soldier, Grampa fought again during the Korean War.
Out of these three bravely smiling brothers and soldiers, Grampa's brother Jim was not as fortunate as the other two. At age 24, he was killed in the war, and buried in Bologna, Italy, with other soldiers who died for their country. I'm relatively certain that no member of our family has visited his resting place there in almost half a century (since my dad was a young boy), and it has long been a wish of mine to go to Bologna someday to lay some flowers and pay my respects to a great-uncle I was never able to meet.
Aside from a few stories about the pet monkey he had while in Korea, Grampa never spoke much of what happened during WWII or the Korean War. In spite of that, I do know that his experiences stuck with him for the rest of his life. He never wanted to come to Remembrance Day ceremonies, I suspect mainly because he was never able to forget what had happened during war-time, no matter the day of the year. But whenever I go to the ceremonies myself, I think of, and am grateful for him and for his brother, whose name is carried on both in my father and my youngest nephew.
Each year on November 11th I wear my poppy and remember what my grandfather, his brother-in-law and his late brother did for their country, and for peace. I am proud, and most importantly thankful.
