The 11th Hour...

Poppy Day...

The 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month of each year... little changes, except the faces... they age. But they know so much about things we can't imagine... and we should be thankful that they do. For their knowing, perhaps we don't need to... but we should...

An older veteran was sitting by Lynnda and me near the Cenotaph here in Niagara-on-the-Lake... he was remembering something, his eyes closed, his lips trembling... Lynnda noticed a young punk near-by mimicking him and joking with friends about it; she walked over and told him to have more respect... I sense he got the message, since she was in his face. I thought, some don't want to learn... in fact, they don't know what they don't know... and ignorance is bliss.

Tears ran down my face when the choir sang Abide with Me... and two young girls read the poem... In Flanders Fields... it goes like this...

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.

By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

One should look at that date, and wonder what Dr. McCrae was thinking as he passed on...

"If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep"

I fear we have, and so I weep...


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