musings from Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington ... home of The Write Spot

Saturday, November 11, 2006


Dad meets the Queen MumHRH Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother
with my Dad, Pvt. Philip John Cooke, Irish Regiment of Canada

One of Dad's (and my) most cherished photos is this one, taken at Sandringham, where he was stationed before being sent to active duty in Italy during World War II. [Edit: Dad always said he was so nervous about speaking with the Queen Mum that his knees were knocking under the kilt!]

On this , I think especially of Dad, but also of the many brave men and women, past and present, who serve to keep our Canada strong and free. Thank you all!

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

burekaboy includes a copy of McCrae's original handwritten manuscript (and other interesting stuff) in his Remembrance Day post at Is that my buréka?

[Edit: Canada Remembered ~ Honouring the Canadian Soldier Powerful musical tribute by Shawn Hlookoff. Watch, download, or see it at MySpace.]


At 11:06 am, Blogger burekaboy — said...

thank you for the link.

what a special picture and memory to have of your father. i am sure it is one of your most cherished.

with all those canadians who have died, and continue to at the moment in iraq, i think remembrance day is, this year, more on our minds.

At 11:13 am, Blogger Jay Emm said...

I came across your post with the photo of the Queen Mum and your father. Just thought I'd let you know that I served, obviously much later, as the Adjutant of the 2nd Battalion of the Irish Regt of Canada.
My only memory of the Q. Mum was during WW2 as a child when she and the King came to visit our town after a perticularly awful bombing raid. I think I was five at the time, but I got close enough to touch her dress and a policeman pulled me away...the Q Mum told him to leave me alone as apparently I was just fine!
Lest we forget. Best wishes, JM


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