Moment of Silence

Hello, I'm Dr. Yvonne Oswald and I'm proud to be Chair of the Board of YouthDay Global. Tylane Duggan founded YouthDay 14 years ago after the Year of the Gun, with a view to opening up the futures of young people everywhere. They show off their performing arts and make a contribution to the community, as well as making some wonderful friendships. Over the years, we've seen performances that are heartwarming and powerful of dancers, singers, artists and traditional First Nations people showing off their arts as well. It's been a wonderful, wonderful 14 years. And for this official moment of silence, I'd like to thank Juan Mendez, who's our creative director for 10 years, and Rafid Naim, who's the filmmaker and photographer, for putting together the footage to show just how important this wonderful movement is. Statistics show that we lose more young people to violence every day. In fact, homicide is the fourth leading cause of death in young people aged 10 to 29 years old in the world. Violence has a lasting effect on the whole community, from first responders with PTSD, innocent bystanders, and the families who have lost loved ones to the violence. Because the numbers are rising so rapidly, Prevention programs need to be put into place, place immediately to allow the young people today to have a chance for a happy and healthy future. The Black Lives Matter movement has also brought attention to the fact that we need equality, justice, and peace for all throughout humanity, and it's time because we're finally paying attention to what really matters. As an author, clinical hypnotherapist, and keynote speaker, my work with the First Nations in the Northwest Territories and the Iraqi war vets and people all over the world who've been sexually, emotionally, or physically abused as children brings home to me the devastating lifelong effects of childhood abuse on people. It's amazing to know that those attempts to self-soothe— the drinking, the drugs, the gang violence— has a devastating effect on people around them and on themselves. Instead of becoming desensitized to this, we need to have positive plans in place so that these people, these young people, can find the joy in living that some of them have never experienced. It's essential to have a sense of purpose and a passion for life in order to have well-being and fulfillment. I know we can't hug right now. However, if you meet a young person today, I'd love you to say hello to them and please praise them and tell them how amazing they are. We can't talk about the moment of silence right now without mentioning the swift and devastating effects of COVID-19 on the whole planet. With the loss of lives, livelihood, education, and freedom, we've had to change our whole way of thinking about how we communicate. 200,000 years of communication has undergone a transformation, and memorable moments such as marriages, graduation, even the way we say goodbye to our lost loved ones has had to be reinvented completely. It was Mark Twain who said that it's not the strongest who survive, but the most adaptable, and we're learning to adapt at an amazingly fast rate. Finally, I'd like to dedicate part of the moment of silence to the parents and friends of those who have lost young ones, whether by violence or through illness. There is nothing worse than the loss of a child, especially knowing that a bright young future will never be realized. My daughter, Catherine Oswald, was the very first Youth Day Ambassador 14 years ago. She was a talented singer and dancer, and she went to AMDA in New York for training in musical theater. When she came back, we discovered that she had ovarian cancer and kidney failure, and she died 2.5 years ago. Right up to the time of her death at 22 years old, I knew and I thought I could deal with it, but there was nothing to prepare me for that. I screamed from morning till night with the unfairness and the injustice of it. At Christmas, I never got to the cash desk because the shopping cart would be abandoned in the middle of the supermarket as I heard the Christmas carols, and I would end up in the car screaming and wailing. I got to say goodbye to Katie, and I was very glad to know of the wonderful effect she had on people and how many people's lives she changed in her young 22 years. I cannot imagine what it would be like not to be able to say goodbye to your child who died. I know we can't hug right now. However, I would love you to say something wonderful to every young person you meet today and to praise them. It will change their lives, I know. Please don't tell a grieving parent that you understand unless you really do because you've lost a child as well. Simply say to them, that you, you're their honour words, and that you're here for them anytime they need you. The people I've loved most this last 2 and a half years are the people who've left a message on the answerphone saying, "I don't need to call them back," and they're there for me, and they're sending me love and light, and they're thinking of me. That's all you need to do is just pray for them. So I'd like us to spend a few moments of silence thinking about those people who have lost loved ones and those people we've lost. Send them love, light, and healing. Thank you all and God bless you. The one shining light I have in the darkness is of knowing that I knew the most wonderful wonder and love for 22 years. As you'll see from this video that's coming up, Katie had a wonderful sense of humor, and I hope that she will inspire young people everywhere to follow their dreams and open up to to the whole world so that we can have a wonderful, peaceful, and prosperous and happy future for everyone everywhere. Thank you.

Mandjanoog, launching a rose, singing a high B-flat. Slowly she motions off stage right. Charlie, she tells you that. Here comes the band. Be on your guard. It's good to take a walk. Here comes the valet, and oh, it's hard to have to sing and smile. Smile while I render this tender intermittible thing. For though it's hard to listen to, it's also rather difficult to sing. Thank you. Here comes the ballet. Here come those chords. And here's the part I hate. Wait! And here's the part where I talk, and it's very casual and sad. And here We change the key. Here comes the bad. We're now in E. It sounds the same to me. And here's the part I never, simply never can recall, so I needn't sing, but only just to say Snatch. It's devilishly etiquette and never seems to rhyme. Hard enough for anyone to catch. Here comes the bat. There goes my arm. Here's where I start to cry. Thank you. Etchelron!