As the sun rises on another ANZAC Day in less than two weeks, and an election looms on the horizon, we stand at a crossroads...not just political, but moral, cultural, and spiritual.
The time is at hand. Our country, our heritage, and the very soul of our nation hang in the balance. Who will we trust with our future? The polished men who lie, profit, and smile as they sign away sovereignty and burden our children with a debt they never incurred? Or will we remember the men who once stormed cliffs and trenches not for gain, but for us? For freedom? For Australia?
This ANZAC Day, as we lay wreaths and whisper “Lest we forget,” we must also look forward. We must remember that bravery is not just a thing of the past. It’s needed now.
Urgently.
And strangely, it may come wrapped not in medals or uniforms, but in something as humble as a teddy bear. Because perhaps, in this moment, what we need most is what we’ve long forgotten: the courage to care, the strength to feel, and the grit to say no... gently, defiantly, but clearly. Maybe this year, it’s Teddy’s turn to hit that electric fence and charge the bull. And maybe, just maybe, we follow.
A little girl, a teddy bear, and a bull behind an electric fence. She was meant to prove her bravery, to touch the fence, to confront the danger and earn her place in the gang. But as the current hummed and the bull watched, her bear trembled. And so, in a moment of pure love, she turned and ran - not to save herself, but to protect him. That day, she “failed” by the rules of others. But in truth, she passed the only test that mattered.
Isn't that what so many of us face today? The bull has changed shape. Sometimes it’s government overreach. Sometimes it’s an activist movement that leaves no room for gentle dissent. Sometimes it's the creeping realisation that the fences we thought kept danger out were actually built to pen us in.
But what if we said no?
Not with signs or screams, but with teddy bears and thermoses. With picnics on ANZAC Day, where children play under trees planted by people who never saw the fruit of their care. With traditions held close, not because they’re fashionable, but because they are true. With sentiment, memory, and quiet strength.
And before anyone gets angry that I dare to bring Teddy Bears into this concept of honouring war through teddy bears, think on this : Even Radar from MASH* slept with a teddy bear. He was a clerk, not a commando, but he was still on the front. And somehow, that bear said everything that needed saying: that even in the middle of madness, there’s room for softness. Not all soldiers are brave. Not all heroes are fearless. Many are just young boys, afraid, doing their best, clinging to something, anything, that helps them feel safe.
Maybe the most powerful protest isn’t in the streets, but in the parks. Not in anger, but in gentleness. Where we leave behind no mess - just laughter, lamington crumbs, and a deep, unshakable sense of belonging. A reminder that we are still free. Still human. Still home.
Yesterday, many of our commenters posted about the idea of sentimentality and how important it is to them. And it got me to thinking about ANZAC Day, tradition , honour, respect, and teddy bears. Quite how a childhood memory about a little kid and a teddy bear facing a raging bull suddenly made my mind turn to war, PTSD, ANZAC Day and the loss of Australia is something that will become clear. Particularly when viewed through the lens of a past worth preserving and peaceful protest..
This article begins with snippets taken from our comments section from our previous article.
Sentimentality... that deep, often quiet emotional attachment to people, places, memories, traditions, and even objects...seems to be fading in many corners of modern life.
If you're told there's nothing to be proud of, nothing worth remembering, nothing worth feeling...then what is left?
Days like ANZAC Day and Australia Day are more than just commemorations; they’re emotional waypoints. They bind us to each other and to those who came before us. When we stand in silence at dawn, watch the march of veterans, hear the bugle play The Last Post, or raise a glass and say, "Lest we forget," we’re not just remembering history...we're feeling it. We're making it real for the next generation.
And doing it with vigour, as was said, makes all the difference. Because if we only whisper our heritage, it gets drowned out. But if we embrace it - with pride, music, storytelling, laughter, even tears...it becomes irresistible. A shared cultural heartbeat.
And Australia has so much to cherish: from the larrikin spirit and mateship to the battler’s grit, the outback legends, the surf lifesavers, the farmers, the diggers, the drovers, and so much more. It’s a rich, complex, and very human story. But it must be told honestly, and celebrated with joy, not apology.
We can also encourage it in daily life:
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Telling kids about their ancestors.
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Flying the flag without shame.
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Teaching real history, not sanitised or demonised versions.
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Keeping physical traditions alive - baking old family recipes, singing national songs, preserving photos, writing down memories.
It’s not a word salad. It’s love. And a society that forgets how to love its own story becomes hollow.
That feeling of watching something beautiful and unifying slowly eroded by division and fear is shared by many, whether they say it out loud or not.
It is a shame, especially because ANZAC Day and Australia Day weren’t built to exclude. They were meant to unite. To honour the sacrifices and stories that allowed Australia to become the country it became. Safe, free, and, for all its flaws, still one of the most generous and decent places on earth.
But instead of building on that shared foundation, too many voices today seem intent on tearing it down. They highlight grievances but refuse to honour achievements. They demand apologies but offer little gratitude. And when governments lack the backbone to hold firm, they embolden the loudest critics and discourage the quiet patriots.
Why is there anger in Australia? Why?
Because it was manufactured by things like " The Voice " ? Unparallelled immigration? Laws that favour the minorities?
The sad thing is, when national days are weakened, it doesn’t just disappoint traditionalists... it leaves everyone poorer. Young people lose a sense of belonging. New migrants miss the chance to connect with Australia’s story. And the deep sentiment that binds a people together starts to fray.
But here's the hopeful part: sentiment and love of country are harder to kill than people think. They live in backyard barbecues, in old war medals, in schoolchildren making poppies, in songs sung under Southern stars. The official version might go quiet, but the real spirit lives on where people choose to keep it alive.
ANZAC Day begins with solemnity: dawn services, wreaths, bugle calls, silence. It should. But as the day unfolds, and people gather with family, raise a glass, and reconnect - that’s the emotional opening where a Teddy Bear Picnic could quietly slip in. Not to replace the reverence of the morning, but to carry it forward into something joyful and alive.
It could symbolise exactly what our diggers fought for - not just freedom, but life with meaning, full of love, childhood, laughter, family, and community.
Picture it:
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Theme: “Remember, Reconnect, Rejoice”
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Timing: Late afternoon ANZAC Day, after official ceremonies.
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Setting: Parks, RSL lawns, school ovals - anywhere local and familiar.
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Activities:
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Children (and adults!) bring their favourite teddy or soft toy.
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Story corners with veterans telling gentle stories of mateship.
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Old Aussie tunes and singalongs
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A “Memory Tent” where families can pin up old photos or stories.
- A poetry reading session from some of the great Australian poets.
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Classic Aussie picnic fare - homemade, humble, heartfelt.
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Maybe even a “Teddy Medals Parade” for the most well-loved bears.
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It’d gently revive the emotional literacy that’s getting lost. It’s not forced solemnity. It’s saying: “We remember the cost, but we also remember what makes that cost worthwhile.”
And the beauty is, it’d be intergenerational. A bridge. Veterans and toddlers sitting side by side, a bear on each lap, honouring the same quiet truth: that love of country begins at home, with warm memories and shared moments.
“Lest we forget - and lest we stop feeling.”
How about it Australia? Can we start a movement?
