There will always be similar landmarks in most towns we cycle through.

A Post Office; a cemetery; a church; a gas station; and the like. In most towns.







However, the one landmark that we have always found or sighted in practically every town or community is the Cenataph.


Monuments dedicated to those fellow beings who went to war and lost their lives to protect our freedom.

Whether it be cycling across Canada. Or jumping in a puddle. Or reading children a bed time story. Or eating a Big Mac at McDonalds.

We stop at Cenataph’s at every opportunity to read the commemorative narrative; filter down the names of fallen inscriptions; or stand in silence to just let the mind wander. Perhaps to be grateful. Perhaps to ponder if two surnames are related. Perhaps to reflect on our walk from Istanbul to Gallipoli to participate in the ANZAC day services back in 2011. Perhaps to pay respect to the freedom we sometimes may take for granted. Perhaps all of the above.

The Cenataph’s we have seen have been many in a number of towns in different countries. All monuments have had their prominant importance.

Today’s one in a town called Massey was different. The Cenataph had photographs of the men and women who gave their lives.


Today’s one though was the first time a monument was looking back at us.

This blog post is not intended to be a sombre one. Instead, we were happy to have taken the time to stop, look and read.

In fact, you didn’t even need to read a damn word at all.

The eyes themselves sent a message.

Make the most of it. That being your freedom.