04-08 VE Day

It is 9:00 am Friday, May 8th, 1945 and I am three months away from my 12th birthday. There was no plan to go to school because we were waiting for confirmation that the war in Europe was over. There had been rumours the night before. Dad had already left for work an hour ago, and mother and I were in the kitchen standing by the radio.
Then the announcement came, and mother grabbed me by the arm. We both ran out into the street. And so did everyone else as far as the eye could see. What a sight, seeing everyone doing the same thing. They were all dancing in a circle with their arms up in the air. People then began to cross the road to hug each other. It was one of the most dramatic moments in my life.
The lady across the road, whose boy was my friend, arrived with a bottle of schnapps and the neighbours all had a drink.
The excitement did not stop for weeks. I remember the famous photo of a soldier kissing a young girl during the celebrations in England showing up on the front page of the newspaper.
Our teacher put up on a screen a famous photo of the King and Queen with Winston Churchill on the balcony of Buckingham Palace. All the children clapped. I was so excited because I had seen the King and Queen in 1939 at Queens Park, sitting on my father's shoulders. Everyone else was using cardboard periscopes to see the famous couple, but with a father 6" 5" tall, I had the best view of all.
On Monday, our teacher wanted to have a serious talk about the end of hostilities in Europe. Hitler had committed suicide a week earlier. In our naivety, we became excited, wanting to learn more. She asked us to be sensitive and told us about two staff members of the Forest Hill Public School that had lost family members during the war. We quickly sobered up.
And then she talked about the work the Canadian Army was doing to bring food and medical supplies to the people of Holland. She said some of the people were surviving on tulip bulbs.
I never forgot that teacher. She taught us how some people's joy is another's sorrow.