to remember those Bermudians who gave their lives in two world wars in the cause of freedom.

While many who attend the annual service of remembrance have never experienced the horrors of war, or suffered the grief of losing loved ones so violently, for the ranks of war veterans who stand proudly before it, the Cenotaph represents a time of deep reflection.

Who knows what memories flood their ageing minds and stir their hearts as they stand, erect as the years will allow, medals proudly pinned to their chests, listening to the town clock toll the eleventh hour to signal the beginning of two minutes' silence before the memorial service unfolds.

Are they reflecting on their own experiences, or praying for the souls of those who, unlike themselves, did not come back? No doubt, the answer is a mixture of both.

For the relatives of the fallen, while time may have dimmed the sharpness of their grief, it does not eradicate the precious memories of lives and loves long lost.

As befits the occasion, the event includes pomp and ceremony -- the Governor in his plumed hat, the clergy in their robes, dignitaries, bands, soldiers, and other uniformed personnel -- all of whom participate as a panoply of respect to the fallen.

The prayers and hymns perform a similar function, reminding one and all that, despite the terrible tolls of war, there is the promise of eternal life for all human souls.

The carefully laid wreaths, their blood-red poppies a poignant reminder of First World War doctor John McCrae's great poem which begins, "In Flanders fields where poppies blow between the crosses, row on row...'' will remain for days afterwards a reminder to passers-by that there were Bermudians on the threshold of their prime who answered a call not of their making, and paid with their lives on some far-flung mission.

In today's fast-paced world, where so many have grown up in comfort and peace, it is easy to overlook the significance behind the hour spent at the Cenotaph each year, and there are even those who think it is now irrelevant to continue paying homage to something that happened more than half a century ago, and to people whom they never knew.

Notwithstanding, the misplaced exuberance of most of last year's crowd, who mistook the significance of the occasion completely and greeted their Premier like a pop star, there has been a steadily growing lack of respect in recent times by the public at large.

Perhaps misled by the term "parade,'' adults and children alike have come to view the event much like any other parade -- as a social gathering, and a way to be entertained.

To the detriment of those who do understand, and particularly the war veterans themselves, increasingly the solemnity of the occasion has been marred by incessant chatter and laughter -- even during the two minutes' silence and prayers. There also seems to be a general laissez-aller attitude toward dignified behaviour, including allowing children and even dogs to roam free.

Of course, there are parades where joy, chatter and laughter are valid.

Tomorrow's is not one of them.

Lest we forget, so long as there are war veterans to march, and families of the fallen to mourn, Remembrance Day should be just that: a time to be silent, a time to sing and pray, a time to be grateful, and above all, a time to be respectful.