A conversation with an old friend today brought back complex memories from a time long ago. 

Part of my life experience includes six  years in The Royal Canadian Air Cadets, something that was expected  we did growing up. My Dad had joined back in his high school days, and it was free and  involved camp possibilities, so it was an accessible activity to someone who had three brothers in the middle of a rural area.

And so I followed in my older brothers footsteps and joined the 317 squadron. 

My memories are complex, not simply good or bad. I learned about the history of the military in Canada, had personality conflicts with other teenagers in positions of authority, cried on a shoulder or two about things I can’t quite recall.

But I also learned to iron a sharp crease, shine a boot so that it was mirror-bright, and how to make a shelter and start a fire. 

I learned to believe in myself,  how to survive a tough spot and how to speak with those around me with conviction, (even when that conviction was that I had no idea what I was doing!)

I flew a plane and in a plane for the first time, and went far from home and anyone I’ve known for the first time at fourteen. 

I memorized my social insurance number and my Dad’s calling card number when I was 12, just in case I ever needed anything. And if it’s memorized it can’t be lost.

I met amazing people, retired military volunteering to show a new generation things they’d learned over a lifetime. 

Fast friends that slowly faded away when a summer ended, never to be seen again.

I learned you can really care for someone and say goodbye forever. That sometimes that’s ok, and it’s all you need from each other.

I learned about the “You Bastard” pause that smoking gives you in conversation, (that pause where you can collect your thoughts), and saw it used wisely and with hilarious effect.

I saved money that paved the way to my first year of university, allowing me to settle into a new culture without worry about being able to pay my tuition. 

Twenty four years after my Senior Leaders course I still wear my sweater, worn and off-white now, but every bit as important to me as when I first got it. Proud of my accomplishment, learning to dance the SLC Shuffle and earning the right to do so on graduation night.

Dancing with my brother when I got home, not allowing our younger, non-SLC graduate brother to join in. 

Over twenty years later the memories come flooding back in, and I think about how much I learned while wearing a uniform. My children will be third generation cadets, and I can’t wait to watch them learn to fly on their own wings the way I did so long ago.