|
HeatherMcLeather -> Saturday night, Grapes, and Afghanistan (6/4/2011 8:18:00 PM)
|
The war in Afghanistan isn’t something I spend a lot of time thinking about, it’s just something that’s been there in the background all my conscious life. I know what happened on 9/11, but in truth I don’t remember it. It’s been a constant in my life, something there in the background.
Another constant is Hockey Night in Canada. Every Saturday night at 7PM, my Dad and his friends would take over the living room and turn the TV to CBC for the game. After the 1st period, there is always a segment called Coach’s Corner, featuring Don Cherry (his nickname is Grapes for some reason, therefore the thread title). He and his sidekick talk hockey, and he’s very popular. Bear with me, there’s a connection.
At the end of each of these segments, Grapes makes some sort of mention of the troops, usually showing a picture of the troops with a team flag, or a Go Leafs poster or something. But whenever one of the soldiers was killed that week he announces that. He shows their picture, tells us their names and where they were from and a couple of things about them. When he has to make one of those announcements he always says something along the lines of “I hope I never have to do this again” or “This breaks my heart”.
I can remember every Saturday night as a little girl quietly slipping into the living room when I heard the Coach’s Corner come on. I’d stand in the shadows and watch, paying no attention to the hockey talk. As the segment came to an end I’d hold my breath and cross my fingers hoping and hoping not to hear those words. I was always so happy when it was a picture of them having fun and almost heartbroken when it wasn’t. I’d go off to my room and cry.
It’s a little silly, to cry about some soldier you never heard of before and will never hear of again, but that was somehow my only real connection with the war. Seeing the faces and hearing the names of those dead boys as part of a Canadian tradition. My dad and his friends would be talking about the game and not really paying attention to the dead soldier. That made me even sadder. I felt like it was my duty to mourn this stranger who had been killed, at least in theory, to protect me, so I’d go to my room and cry and whisper their names over and over and tell them that I was sorry.
I still do it, tune in Coach’s Corner even if Hanners isn't watching the game or if we're watching something else. And I hold my breath and hope….
And I still cry when I see the faces and hear the names, and I still apologize.
I don’t really have any point to posting this, and I don't really expect any responses, it’s just that tonight I didn’t hear those horrible words, and I was so happy. And it struck me then that those dead boys had become part of my Saturday nights, a tradition or ritual in my life. If I don’t catch Coach’s Corner, I feel bad. I worry that one of them has died and since I hadn’t heard, nobody would cry for him or apologize.
And I just felt like sharing it. Thanks for reading.
|
|
|
|
