a tradition which seems to be falling by the wayside, I fear. When I was a kid, displaying those vet-made poppies was practically required adornment for us and my mother would always insist that we keep them pinned on for days after Memorial Day, til they had become tattered and practically disintegrated. As much as I hate our government and all of the wars that it deems "necessary", I still always make sure to find a poppy to wear on this day. It's my quiet way of honoring my own family's military service of the past, remembering my dear daddy, the three long years he spent away from us, and the handfuls of little poppies that he'd bring home for us, for years afterward.
In Flanders Fields
By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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