Making History, Marking History, Living History

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
Let others follow it who can!
Let them a journey new begin,
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

-- J R R Tolkien

One of the traits that first intrigued me about - and so attracted me to - Laura was our shared interest in history. Though she had only just turned 17 when we met, I could make reference to the Vietnam or Second World War and she would know what I was talking about more often than not. Unlike the vast majority of her (of of my) contemporaries, she understood, as I do, that the past is not "dead" but is, rather, more akin to stretch of road on which we continue to walk; the past is disappearing from view but in an important if metaphorical way it still exists and continues to influence the lives of all of us today.

My past weekend began on Friday afternoon when I left the office early to catch the 5 o'clock express for Sudbury. My great-uncle Jules would be turning 90 years old on Sunday and I had no intention of missing either the Saturday or the Sunday celebrations planned in his honour.

As a child, I didn't know Jules well. He was a slow-spoken, quiet man, to my eyes at least, over-shadowed in social situations by his first wife who, to be honest, I did not much like.

I began to get to know about a decade or so, and discovered a remarkably fit man who remained deeply involved with the world, a passionately political thinker who nevertheless took great joy from life and found much to laugh about within it, despite having buried his first wife and two of his children. He and my younger were working on my mother's house and Jules at 80 wielded a hammer like a much younger man, which was appropriate given that he was looking forward to a second marriage.

Born to Finnish immigrants - his father, a renowned Finnish poet and journalist, and committed Communist - his childhood was one one of hard work and extreme poverty. Nevertheless, Jules made a career as an architect and taught the subject at Ryerson. He was twice a husband and is a father and grand-father.

But in terms of family lore, of family mythology, it was as a teenager that he left his greatest mark, literally sneaking out of the country to join the Mackenzie Papineau Battalion and sail to France, from which country he made his way to Spain to join the fight against Francisco Franco's Fascist government, which - with the help of Hitler and Mussolini's regime's had overthrown the democratically-elected Republican government.

                        
                                 Jules circa 1937.                                                 Jules, April 30, 2007.

He fought in three major battles and was captured by Italian troops in (I believe) 1938. He spent about a year as a prisoner of war and was saved from execution (he was actually on the firing line) by the good fortune of an Italian general happening by and putting a stop to the proceedings. The war was drawing to a close - Jules' belief that Western democracies would come to the aid of their fellow democratic government having proven vain - and Jules and his comrades were to be exchanged for Italian prisoners held by the Republicans.

Of the 1,500 or so (my research has yielded conflicting numbers) Canadians who volunteered, Jules was one of the 700 or so survivors. According to a speaker at Sunday's party, there are only 5 survivors alive today.

During the 1990s, he was a leader of a campaign to have the Mac-Paps recognized as Canadian veterans. They succeeded part-way, with the 2001 unveiling of the National Monument to the MacKenzie-Papineau Battalion. As men who were early to see the threat Fascism posed to the world, I was more than pleased to see Jules' work achieve that success, if I was also satisfied that they have not been officially designated as veterans.



(That is probably an argument for another time. My basic position is that while my heart lies with the Mac-Paps, it does not lie with - for example - those Canadians who volunteered to fight in Vietnam. Though Canada should have stepped up to the plate to defend the Spanish democracy, it did not do so and I don't believe we should re-write history in that way.)

All of which is background I was more or less familiar with. What I had not realized was that Jules was as well-known outside of the family as it turned out on Saturday that he is. Though I did not notice any members of the press in attendance, well over 100 people turned out for Saturday's public celebration, including Sudbury's Mayor, John Rodriguez.

I mention this not to name-drop (as very political people, I grew up with MPs, MPPs and labour leaders as regular guests in my parents' house), but to mention his brief speech.

Rodriguez spoke of coming to Canada as "a young Socialist" who joined the "closest thing to a Socialist party in Canada" - the NDP - for which he served 5 terms as a Sudbury-area MP. He spoke warmly of Jules and of Sudbury's Finnish community in general (many of whom had originally come as refugees shortly after the turn of the last century as Communists, fleeing a military dictatorship in the old country) but what struck me most was to hear a sitting mayor of a major Canadian city publicly declaring himself a Socialist in the year 2007.

In this age of (happily, fading) neocon/neo-liberal triumphalism, it is more than a little heartening to be reminded that history is not nearly at an end and that the values and beliefs that sent my great-uncle to risk his life for the cause of democracy and social justice live on.

* * *
Sunday's affair was for friends and family only and was held (perhaps somewhat incongruously) at a golf-course owned by a friend of Jules (who, yes, is still golfing, along with working on his memoirs).

After a number of heartfelt and touching tributes, Jules himself spoke. He spoke of social justice, of the need for constant struggle and he spoke too of his own, long, life. I mentioned earlier that he is a man who has outlived 2 wives and two children, who developed scurvy while a prisoner of war, whose own government considered him a traitor for his involvement in Spain and whose secret police kept tabs on him for decades. Yet he smiled as he spoke and emphasized what a wonderful life he has led, what joy it has brought him and how he looks forward to the future.

The proof of that, I think, is in the pictures. ( Only click if you want to see random pictures of people you don't know. )