I can remember many years ago one evening reluctantly sitting in a functional, stackable chair at an old formica table, eating deep-fried food and swilling from a pint glass at a shabby RSA in a provincial wasteland, desperately wishing I was somewhere else.
All of a sudden the lights were dimmed, the music was cut and the chatter instantly ceased. The silence was broken with the clear baritone voice of an RSA official on a mic:
"Ladies and Gentlemen: The Remembrance Ceremony"
All stood and then *silence*
The silence was broken by the official:
"They shall grow not 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"
Then all present responded: "We Will Remember Them"
As we all sat down the lighting was restored, the music and the chatter recommenced.
After first witnessing this ritual repeated nightly in RSAs across the country the photos and the names faithfully recorded on the walls of an RSA situated in the middle of nowhere suddenly became significant. My initial reluctance of my situation that evening was washed away - I felt honoured I was there.
