The End?

I honestly don't know what more to say. Often I think of this space and try to conjure something of interest to fill it. But alas, my imagination remains void. Obstinately so. Continually so. I wonder how many people check in here to find the same dull entry they found last time. It's disheartening, isn't it? Eventually, it becomes annoying.

I've considered deleting this blog. I have not come to any firm decision yet, but I think it's significant that I've even considered it.

My Life is, at the moment, utterly unremarkable. I have a brilliant job, good friends, a healthy romance. My kids are ... well, they read this page sometimes. My kids are fine. I ...

I don't know what to tell you, Ms J. Truly, I am at a loss.

I have nothing to tell you. Or more accurately, nothing I can tell you. Even my private journal has suffered lately.

When my kids weren't talking to me and I was fired from my job and my leg was broken ... well, those were exciting times, eh? Horrible to be sure, but horribly exciting. Now things are fine. I'm happy. But contented people leading happy Lives are most probably boring. And if things were horrible again, it would involve my children, my ex-wife, or my employer, none of whom I can safely write about anymore.

It's been a good run, Ms J. More than a thousand posts over four years. But maybe, just maybe it's time to call it quits.

Hmmm?


***

At Work

Sorry. I've got nothing much to tell you, Ms J. So here's a video of ... well, it could be me at work. It's not. But it could be. Actually, I nicked it from YouTube.

***

The Pringle Room

Dad's story doesn't end with its inclusion in Canada's national archives. In fact, I suppose it could be said that it may never end. Here's the rest of the story:

A few years ago, Dad was one of a few men approached by a local school teacher. She was hoping to enlist a few war veterans to address her class of public school students during Remembrance Week. She wanted to introduce her young pupils to men who had actually taken part in a war, World War Two, Canada's last great war. She inquired at the local branch of the Royal Canadian Legion and was given Dad's name.

"Sure, I'll talk to the kids," Dad told her. "But I really don't know what to say."

"Just be yourself," she said. "Answer their questions as best you can."

Dad has a child-like spirit, Ms J. He's always gotten on well with children. Indeed, when I was a boy at home, it wasn't uncommon for children to bang on our door and ask mother if "Mr. Pringle can come out and play."

Dad attended the school. He wore his service medals on his navy blue Legion blazer and addressed the children. I'll bet he enjoyed it as much as the students.

"Did you shoot anyone?"

"No."

"Did anyone shoot at you?"

"Yes. A few times."

"Were you scared?"

"Yup."

"Were you at Pearl Harbour?"

"No. That was an American battle in the Pacific Ocean. Hawaii. I was a long way from there."

"Where were you then?"

"Scotland first. Then England to do more training. Then France. Belgium. Holland. And Germany."

He was a hit, Ms J. The kids loved him. The teacher invited him to speak to more classes and to return again the following year. He mentioned the memoirs he'd written and asked if she'd like to see it.

"There's a whole chapter about being in the army," he told her. "You might find it interesting."

The teacher took Dad's book and read the whole thing. Later, she shared specific passages with her students as part of history class. And of course, much of it was relevant to what she was teaching about Remembrance Day. This teacher is an ardent fan of Canadian history. She believes very strongly in her country and is grateful for the freedoms she enjoys due to the sacrifices made by Canada's war veterans. She and Dad became friends.

It was this same teacher who later proposed a portion of the school be dedicated to the memory of local war veterans. "The Veteran's Hallway," she called it and after leading a campaign to sell the idea to town politicians, her motion was carried in council. Dad's photograph is one of a half dozen or so that are displayed in the school. There's even a classroom named after him. "The Pringle Room." And he's a regular and sought-after guest each year during Remembrance Week.

I can't begin to tell you how proud Dad is. Proud in a quiet kind of way, though. Dad never boasts of his accomplishment, but I know - we all know - how pleased he is with the way things have turned out. It all began with an idea, a simple idea to tell his story.

"I think I'll write my memoirs," he said. "That way, I'll still be around even after I'm gone."

It began with an idea, Ms J, and grew into something much grander than my father could ever have imagined. He's gotten his wish, hasn't he? Dear Ol' Dad will live forever.

I love you, Dad.

***