ANZAC Day

One of my earliest school memories is the annual Remembrance Day observance every November 11, where we would wear poppies and assemble in the gym or around the flagpole to honour those who had died for our country in war. It was always a fairly low-key and somber affair. When we moved to the US, we observed Veterans Day, and again, there were ceremonies and wreath-layings all over the country.

But yesterday, I experienced something different.

ANZAC Day - 25 April - marks the anniversary of the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during the First World War. ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. The soldiers in those forces quickly became known as Anzacs, and the pride they soon took in that name endures to this day.

It is sadly unique that the main action remembered yesterday was an incredible defeat at Gallipoli on April 25, 1915, where 10,700 Anzacs died. But it represented their first steps onto the global stage during a war, so it the day has deep significance. I have always been moved by "celebrations" like this - the somber realization that we enjoy the freedom we do because of the sacrifice of others. What really got me yesterday as I watched the old soldiers march by were the cries of "thank you very much" from the teenagers who lined the street, and the older folks who lived through those days waving at the soldiers who were marching, shuffling or being pushed along in wheelchairs and walkers. Often families would march beside their aging veterans, or wear their medals and carry pictures of them if they had died.

It was all very moving. An unexpected privilege to witness it yesterday.

(P.S. Travel Update: tomorrow I begin the 18 hour drive from Sydney to Fraser Island for a week and a half of filming.)

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