The holidays I didn’t grow up with taught me the true meaning of being Canadian.
Every family holds onto special dates.
My family of three landed in Vancouver in November 2000. Our son had just started Grade 1. As the plane descended, sunlight spilled through the cabin windows. What we didn’t realize was that our arrival coincided with the eve of Remembrance Day in Canada.
The next morning, still fighting jet lag, a friend took us for a walk in a local park. Crowds were gathering — men and women, children, veterans in uniform — each wearing a small red flower.
I asked my friend cautiously, “Is that an opium poppy?”
My friend corrected me gently: “It’s the Remembrance Day poppy.”
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