Remembrance Day is the only thing that can make our grey bleak November weather seem exactly right. The sound of the distant pipes; the few old men who still march to the cenotaph in berets and medals; the young cadets standing with heads bowed and hands crossed on rifles at each corner of the square…

And more than anything, what really catches me in the back of the throat, every year the same, is the sudden deep booming sound of the cannons’ salute — those big guns echoing down the years and down the river valley, from village to village, each small community with its own memorial cairn, its own group of silent observers to wipe away a windstruck tear, and its own list of long-ago farmboys’ names to be read aloud on 11 November.

But like the brave red poppies of Flanders fields and Remembrance wreaths, those bright red sparks against the grey of rainclouds and gravestones, there’s something indomitably bright in the human spirit. And as long as we can see those poppies bud and bloom — in the fields of Normandy, or in fields of hope and imagination — surely, all is not lost.

Photo: amandabhslater

It was Remembrance Day 1999, and singer-songwriter Terry Kelly was in a drug store in Nova Scotia, Canada.

An announcement came over the store’s PA system, asking customers to give two minutes of silence at 11:00 AM — at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month — the annual token of respect for the nation’s veterans.

Read the letters and poems of the heroes at home
They have casualties, battles, and fears of their own
There’s a price to be paid if you go, if you stay
Freedom is fought for and won in numerous ways

On the stroke of 11:00, all the store fell silent.

All, that is, except for one man, who was accompanied by his little daughter. Oblivious of the example he was setting for the child, the man continued to try to talk to the sales clerk all through the respectful silence.

Take two minutes, would you mind?
It’s a pittance of time…

Terry Kelly did what artists have always done, in the grip of the strongest emotions — he channelled his anger into his music.

Lest we forget what Remembrance Day is all about, here’s the song:

Our family often serves this War Cake on Remembrance Day as a reminder of what life was like on the home front in the Second World War. But this heavy dark cake is a tasty family favourite. In fact, my sister liked it so well that as a child she always demanded it for her birthday cake!

War cake recipes vary, but they are traditionally butter-less, egg-less, milk-less, and sometimes sugarless, reflecting those difficult days when many “luxury foods” were in short supply and prohibitively expensive, or even under wartime rationing controls.

This particular old recipe comes from the well-worn pages of Grandmother’s own handwritten cookbook. It does call for a bit of butter but substitutes brown sugar for the refined white sugar which was hard to come by in Atlantic Canada. It is well-suited to a topping of boiled frosting or whipped cream, but of course Grammie used to serve it plain.

War Cake

Combine and boil for 5 minutes only:

        1 lb (about 2 cups) raisin
        1 cup water
        1 cup dark brown sugar
        1/4 cup lard
        1/4 cup butter
        1 tsp each cinnamon, ginger, ground cloves
        1/2 tsp salt

Let cool to lukewarm, then sift together and add:

        2 cups flour
        2 tsp baking soda

Flavour with vanilla or brandy, if desired.

Pour into a well-greased pan, about 8″ square.

Bake at 325°F for about one hour, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake doesn’t come out sticky.