remember, with honor

In Flander’s Field
by John McCrae

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.


Remember the fallen.  With honor and reverance, you have MANY to thank for your freedom today.  When you pass a veteran, extend a hand of thanks.  When you're on your way to the cabin this weekend, stop to purchase a poppy.  It's not about the start of summer.  Really.  Find a veteran.  Listen to their stories, reflect on what it means to you, and by all means, never forget their sacrifice - then or today!

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

~ Moina Michael

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