Appreciation isn’t glorification

Today’s a day that hurts a bit.

The centenary of Anzac Day is by rights conflicted. Not in a combative sense, but with the heaving of heavy sighs as we consider, for neither the first nor last time, all the things we would change and all the things we wouldn’t.

We try to look squarely at the madness of that call to arms, the sense of duty and adventure that was felt by those who answered it.

As much as we can bear, we try to understand what it cost them, and those who were left behind.

But it’s not all about family and community losses, cautionary lessons, aching regrets and the mustering of a revived determination to recognise folly.

It’s a day the nation expresses gratitude, openly and sincerely.

Perhaps, though, we’re less comfortable about thinking in terms of admiration.

We shouldn’t be. For all that was wrong with what happened 100 years ago, there’s nothing jingoistic or hokey about recognising the courage that was shown.

Not only by those whose stories we are familiar with, but also by those who drew no particular attention to themselves as they somehow faced the terror and tedium, the exhaustion and sickness.

They were flesh-and-blood and, dear God, they did it tough.

And they stuck at it, the huge majority of them, until they got through it all, or they didn’t.

Those who died, and for that matter survived to live out their days, are no more nor less special today than they were a year ago or will be in a year’s time.

Centenaries matter to us not because they ways in which we number our days are all that intrinsically important, but because we decide that when particular milestones come around we are more inclined to pause and reflect.

Today will matter a lot, if we want it to. Some of us will treat the day as one that is itself historic, to become the stuff of lifelong memories.

Others will take the holiday and accept it as a chance for rest and recreation, with perhaps a fleeting nod to commemorations going on around them.

And modern life being what it is, some will be heads down and working through most of it.

In any case, on Sunday people will be getting on with their lives in a country that was much changed by the fact that we sent so many of our sons, and some of our daughters, into a hellish conflict.