as the stars are starry in the time of our darkness
I get why people dislike having this official day. And sometimes the parades are a bit much, and the idea that maybe you're a bad person for not attending a service is a terrible thing that's being encouraged. I dislike the religious connotations, the fact that god is part of the benediction and it's called a dawn 'service,' and I dislike the unthinking parroting of ideas. These things, all things, need to be questioned.

This morning, Chris expressed displeasure at the opening address: it was too defensive, he felt. I liked it this year, more than I have the last few years: the guy was clearly not a good public speaker, he paused uncomfortably and was unsure, and he spoke about how we don't like fighting and we don't want to fight, and we can question those decisions that lead us there, and we should question the decisions that lead us there, but once you go you go, and when you come home you don't want to be forgotten, don't want your efforts to be worth nothing in the eyes of everyone.

And you can dislike this day, and you can be ambivalent about this day, and you can be like a couple we saw on the way home, 0930 on Anzac Day and they were having their wedding photos taken. But still, in the quiet of the dawn, or in the bright sun light, or on the bus or when you're dancing or when you're living your life, for just a second, you should remember them, and then keep on being happy.