War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele


walking on Broadway today I saw a guy on the sidewalk with a sign that said “Help a Veteran”. I stopped and asked him who he served with and he replied “Van Doos 1994 Rawanda and Ethiopia” as Transport. We chatted. I told him how I’d met Romeo Dallaire (read: hero hero hero – I don’t know how that guy can even put on his shoes and socks after seeing what he saw), then a little about my very limited exposure to war with the Patricias and asked him if he’d been in touch with OSIS (for operational illnesses), the Legion etc. and told him they’d all help him. He said they all wanted him to go to a Veterans hostel but he refused saying that it was “a dying house for vets”. He told me that alcohol is his drug of choice. We chatted for awhile. He’s maybe my age. I told him I believe he could push through all of this and that someone I know, a clearance diver (bomb disposal and cleanup post-bomb) has endured and found some peace through yoga and has become a teacher. I also told him I don’t give money to folk on the street but buy coffee and he said to me, “It’s just great that you stopped to talk to me”. As I walked away he looked at me and saluted.

They call me Ma’am.

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled Vancouver. It was posted here on September 16, 2016.


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