Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918)

Sometimes street photography drops you right into the present.

And sometimes—if you’re lucky—it opens a door straight into history.

Back in 2017, Bob was wandering the paths of Fort York with a camera in hand, expecting the usual mix of old buildings, tourists, and quiet moments. Instead, he walked straight into the past.

Standing there was a reenactor portraying John McCrae—Lieutenant-Colonel, doctor, soldier, poet. The man behind In Flanders Fields. The man whose words still echo every November when poppies bloom on coats across Canada.

What stopped Bob wasn’t theatrics.

It was restraint.

No exaggerated hero poses.

No speeches.

Just a steady, composed presence—like someone who had already seen too much to need dramatics.

The uniform looked lived-in, not ceremonial. The leather straps sat heavy across the chest. The stance wasn’t stiff with pride; it was calm, professional, and tired in a way that only responsibility creates. This didn’t feel like McCrae on parade. This felt like McCrae at a field hospital, doing the work that needed doing while the war raged somewhere beyond the canvas walls.

Bob couldn’t help thinking: this is probably how he looked when he wasn’t writing poetry.

This was McCrae the doctor—moving between wounded soldiers. McCrae the officer—carrying weight instead of glory. A man standing in mud and canvas, not frozen in bronze or etched in stone.

As a street photographer, Bob is always chasing moments that feel honest and unposed. This reenactment delivered exactly that. Fort York did the rest. The quiet paths, the open sky, the historic buildings—all of it let the imagination fill in what the camera can’t quite show. For a moment, modern Toronto faded away, and the First World War felt uncomfortably close.

And standing there, in these political times, that feeling hit even harder.

When the world feels loud, divided, and constantly arguing about who we are and what we stand for, moments like this matter. Remembering John McCrae isn’t about nostalgia—it’s about grounding ourselves. Canada’s heroes weren’t chasing attention, power, or headlines. They were doctors, nurses, soldiers, and ordinary people doing extraordinary work because it had to be done.

In times like these, we need to remember our Canadian heroes—not to glorify war, but to remember service, compassion, sacrifice, and responsibility. Those values don’t belong to any political side. They belong to all of us.

That day at Fort York, Bob didn’t just photograph a reenactor.

He photographed a reminder.

And sometimes, that’s the most important kind of street photograph you can make.