Memorial Day

Your parents and grandparents may remember a time when they wore poppies at school.  In our elementary school, in the 1970s, they sold us poppies to benefit Memorial Day activities.  At the time, I did not understand it; I just wanted to have one of those poppies pinned on my shirt when I walked home.

As I understand it now, poppies flourish in disturbed soil.  They grow quite well amongst the barbed wire, exploded shells, and the bodies of the soldiers who fell in battle.  They are described as giving hope where hope is gone. John McCrae's poem, In Flanders Field, gives an account:

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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.

Memorial Day is a holiday designated to remember those in the United States military who died in the service - people like my wife's cousin Dustin, who lost his life in Iraq.  Dustin is buried in Arlington Cemetery near the graves of some very prestigious Americans, including presidents and generals.  If one understands this holiday, s/he does not celebrate it.  A person may gladly celebrate being off of work or getting the family together, but may pause (if so inclined) the celebration to remember those who gave their all.

The ones we honor are not here to be honored.  We can't shake their hands to thank them for their service.  We can only remember them and thank their families for their sacrifice.

If you're interested in reading more about Memorial, please go to the Memorial Day website and read for yourself.