My son asked me on Saturday as we were going into the store why an old guy was selling flowers. It gave me an opportunity to tell him about the “true meaning” of Memorial Day and explain to him that some of our bravest hero’s don’t get to come home.
So today I will be spending sometime thinking about the people who gave everything.
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.– John McCrae, May 1915
