Celebrating sounds of peace

ALONG macchiato with hot milk on the side please.” An explanation was needed for my friends. “It’s an art. You start with just a little milk and (clears throat) a little sugar. But I assure you, it’s awesome! It begins strong and a little bitter and then as I get further into the cup I add more milk for a milder finish.” I could see the team outside interviewing people in the mallll regarding church-bells and street celebrations a memberember of RSL had asked uss to develop for the Centenary of Armistice World War I, but for the e time being, my mind had meandered off into heaven, floating on the roasted clouds of caffeination. The door jingled open and one of the team joined us with the first seven en interviews they’d completed and handed anded me one. I read: “My relative was 18 yearsears old when he arrived at Anzaczac Cove. He didn’t even get offff theh bboat.” ”

It took a moment for me to comprehend. I stared at the page, not actually seeing it. Coffee heaven disappeared, and mixed emotion welled up inside me. Here I was, casual, relaxed, happily indulgent in caffeinated perfection, and 100 years ago, a teenager, a person I never met, prepared for The Great War, travelled halfway around the world only to be slaughtered before getting off the bloody boat.

I was holding back tears as I grappled with the thought. How am I to reconcile this? I felt guilty of just how far I’d gone with my coffee explanation. Should I even finish my coffee now? How do I show I appreciate his sacrifice? I looked up. People were enjoying themselves all around me. Just another day in a cafe. Peace. Prosperity. Nobody even giving a second thought to how good we have it. I looked up and down the mall. Cafes everywhere. I know the coffee is perfect in all off them. h

But if this teenager had sent his eyes up and down the beach it would have been a red sea of bodies face down in the water, bullets flying … no safety anywhere. If in that moment he’d thought about home, he would have been thinking of a fledgling nation where people had only the bare necessities, and scarcely a coffee in sight — filtered no less.

And then it struck me. I was looking at this the wrong way. The question I needed to ask was this: Why did he do what he did? If one of the Anzacs were to sit across the table from me, would he be upset to see me enjoy my coffee? I don’t think so. He would be happy to see that a whole nation had been built on the shoulders of his sacrifice. He would be happy to see that we live at peace with one another for the most part, and that as Australians, our prosperity is taken for granted. And I think he would be happy to see that, even though we are definitely not a perfect natnation and there is still much wwork to be done, we aare determined determi that we will gget it done together. toge The teenager tee was speaking sp to me clearly c now. He fought that we might live in peace with one another. He fought that t we might be b a country of prosperity. pr He fought, fou that together, toge as one country, countr we might have a bbright future. My dilemdilemma was quickly solved intellectually, but a depth of mmixed emotion hhas remainedid withi me since that experience, embedding a new resolve within me: There is only one future for Australia — and that is together. It is for this purpose that our Anzac brothers and sisters sacrificed their lives. Over a few more heavenly macchiato experiences we came up with the following narrative for the celebration: Throughout World War I, church bells were silenced for years, only ringing to signal an invasion by the enemy. But after the armistice was signed in 1918 the church bells spontaneously burst into life, as did street parties, music, dancing, community meals etc. On Sunday, along with commemorating the Anzac sacrifice, we’re organising church bells and street parties replicating those at the end of the war, celebrating peace, prosperity and all that Australia has become because of the Anzacs. One of the team came up with the perfect name for the celebration: The Sound of Peace.

These leaders are supporting this initiative:

“The Centenary of Armistice is one of this nation’s most important commemorative events and an opportunity to celebrate the end of the Great War a century ago.

“This Remembrance Day, I encourage Tasmanians to take a moment’s silence or attend a commemorative ceremony,

giving thanks for the service and sacrifice of our Diggers and the freedoms we enjoy.” — Will Hodgman and Guy Barnett

“When you go home, tell them of us and say,

‘For your tomorrow, we gave our Today.’” — John Edmunds, 1916 (contributed by RSL Tas president Terry Roe)

“What a wonderful initiative to bring our diverse communities together, to celebrate the peace we all enjoy, wrought by the sacrifice of others.” — Bishop Richard Condie Kelvin Smith is the founder and director of CityNetworks, a church-based organisation that creates practical ways to celebrate diversity. The Sound of Peace Street Party in Hobart is straight after the Cenotaph Remembrance Day ceremony this Sunday. Murray St will be closed off for the free family event, which runs from 11am to 1.30pm in Murray St. There is a gold coin donation lunch.