In 2004 Nathan and I embarked on a rather epic journey through Singapore, Malaysia, and New Zealand. During the time we were together in New Zealand we traveled from the top of the North Island to the bottom of the South Island, hitting as many points in between as possible. We celebrated birthdays, holidays, and all days in between in a campervan on the open road. Something we had shared before leaving was watching the World War II miniseries Band of Brothers which had left a profound imprint on us. Neither of us, mercifully, have ever seen active war. We have veterans to thank for that luxury. We only understood broad strokes of what they'd struggled to survive and achieve through glimpses in history books and on film. Band of Brothers brought it to life in ways that mattered to us, that were unforgettable. And somehow the stories of the men of Easy Company wandered with us through many of the New Zealand landscapes. When November 11th came around we had made it to Christchurch on the South Island. We'd been immersed in adventure and spontaneous travel for quite some time by then and we both wrote in journals nightly which was our way of processing the fullness of the trip. That day - at 5:30pm which is a time that echoed with meaning for reasons that now escape us - we felt strongly that we needed to write something that spoke to the necessity of remembering. We wanted somehow to commemorate. We also felt alone and rather burdened with only a second-hand knowledge of events as handed down through scripts and stories. We didn't think, really, we just sort of put pen to paper and wrote it out. It seemed important to do so. Now, ten years on, Nathan found the free-form poem we wrote that night. It isn't good, per se. Not by poetic standards. But the only requirement really is to remember. Which we did - and do.
- Corinne Simpson and Nathan Waddell