On Monday we viewed as much of the National Gallery as possible before our brains exploded or I got arrested, and on Tuesday we drove a bit west of the downtown and Parliament Hill to do a bit of research at The War Museum.
On our way to look for books or materials related to two particular subjects (the Merchant Marine, WW2, for me; veterinary surgeons - specifically a grand-father - WW1, for my wife), we came upon a memorial room, something I had not found on my trip in June or this year.
[“A Soldier of the Great War: A Canadian Regiment - Known Unto God”]
[“Darn. The painting of ‘A Canadian Sailor’ was missing from the museum’s wall”]
The museum’s lone copy of The Merchantmen At War was a gold mine of information concerning the role of the Merchant Marine (my dad was a member) in WW2.
Two poems inside by John Masefield were particularly poignant.
[“Epilogue: Once, in a life, when unprepared...”: photo GH]
My dad, now gone, would have cheered had he read the lines. The book looks familiar, so perhaps he did.
***
While viewing the photos I recalled a time, 10 or so years ago, when my dad and I talked about travelling to Ottawa together. I checked out information about hotels, etc., but his failing health caused him later to say he just wasn’t up to it.
Though I regret the opportunity lost, circumstances in life often find a balance, and in my case - they have.
.
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