often you discover old patterns of behaviour and old modes of thought, underlying all those new facades, like scar tissue under a spanking new bandage, except they are far more than just mere reminders of the past and have actually an active role in shaping the present. and you realize that it's not so much that "the more things change the more they stay the same" but more like things don't change at all.
perhaps all which persists is much like gold, untarnished as it remains throughout the ages, unlike greening copper and rotting wood.
***
attended a rememberance day service here on sunday.
it was a simple, moving ritual performed on a windy yet fair morning; the representatives of the university resplendent in scarlet, red and jet, their gowns fluttering in the breeze like the flags borne by the members of the oxford territorial army; wreath- layers from the armed forces sombre in navy and khaki; various other important people dressed up in what seemed like 18th century uniforms, hats and breeches and swords like the duke of wellington, but cockade-less. this is a country mindful of its history.
a lone bagpiper played a lament; otherwise it was quiet safe for the rustling of the gold and brown leaves of autumn, hanging heavy from trees soon to be denuded by the rush of winter. at the foot of the giant cross erected for the dead of the two wars, the city rector intoned:
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn,
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
And the band struck up a tune then, slow but not mournful; filled with rememberance and hope, the hymn
O valiant hearts, who to your glory came
Through dust of conflict and through battle-flame,
Tranquili you lie, your knightly virtue proved,
Your memory hallowed in the land you loved.
but perhaps the most powerful image of that day was of the ranks of veterans (all too probably diminished by the intervening years), some on crutches and some on wheelchairs, but all wearing proudly their uniforms and medals, marching past the assembled crowd to the sound of swelling applause.
perhaps all which persists is much like gold, untarnished as it remains throughout the ages, unlike greening copper and rotting wood.
***
attended a rememberance day service here on sunday.
it was a simple, moving ritual performed on a windy yet fair morning; the representatives of the university resplendent in scarlet, red and jet, their gowns fluttering in the breeze like the flags borne by the members of the oxford territorial army; wreath- layers from the armed forces sombre in navy and khaki; various other important people dressed up in what seemed like 18th century uniforms, hats and breeches and swords like the duke of wellington, but cockade-less. this is a country mindful of its history.
a lone bagpiper played a lament; otherwise it was quiet safe for the rustling of the gold and brown leaves of autumn, hanging heavy from trees soon to be denuded by the rush of winter. at the foot of the giant cross erected for the dead of the two wars, the city rector intoned:
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn,
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
And the band struck up a tune then, slow but not mournful; filled with rememberance and hope, the hymn
O valiant hearts, who to your glory came
Through dust of conflict and through battle-flame,
Tranquili you lie, your knightly virtue proved,
Your memory hallowed in the land you loved.
but perhaps the most powerful image of that day was of the ranks of veterans (all too probably diminished by the intervening years), some on crutches and some on wheelchairs, but all wearing proudly their uniforms and medals, marching past the assembled crowd to the sound of swelling applause.
posted by zhongkai at 12:09 AM
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