Steeped within me is the belief that wars are fought - and lives given - to ensure freedom for future generations. I must not be alone in that understanding: sons, grandsons and great-grandaughters participated in the ANZAC Day march on Saturday with a sense of gratitude and with the knowledge of this sacrifice handed down to them.
Meet Bill and his son Kevin at the Redfern commemoration. Meet Jason and his father Phillip marching to remember Jason's departed grandfather. Meet Justin pushing his father, Fred. Finally, meet Corby who had accompanied her grandmother, Suzanne, to the Dawn Service in Martin Place and now at 9am was waiting in George Street to cheer on her father, Tim, who was carrying the banner of the Shropshire Regiment in memory of Suzanne's own father, William, who had served in WW1. Four generations of memory is powerful stuff.
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5 comments:
Another wonderful post! My father served in the US Navy on a destroyer in the Pacific during World War II. I have always been so proud of him!
Powerful pictures. Your sentiments are right on!
I have to disagree. To me the march is for the diggers themselves. Once they are gone they are gone. My thoughts are not as negative as they once were, I no longer see it as glorifying war but I firmly believe that there is no place for relatives and it is simply perpetuating something that should disappear as the marches die. The greatest thing that could ever happen is for there to be noone left to march. In the words of Eric Bogle: But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.
That's my ten cent's worth.
Beautiful shots, as always.
Such dignity in those images.
What a great collection of portraits! Great work here, Julie!
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