Nice knowing you

Sometimes I wish this blog was anonymous, and no one knew that I was the writer. Today I had the most embarrassing moment of my life; serious, utter embarrassment. If this was an anonymous blog, I would write all about it. But, since everyone who reads this knows who I am, I think I will just crawl under a rock and die now. Nice knowing you. Send your condolences to Husband. I am sure he will be heartbroken.

Why I wear a Poppy

If you visit Canada in the days between Halloween and November 11th, you will find people wearing plastic poppies. Even though I live in the States, I still wear my poppy every year, and I wear it with pride. Many people think it is just an accesory, but if they take the time to ask about it, I tell them what it means to me. I tell them about the poem written by John McCrae. I tell them about the sacrifices made by those who fought and often died for our freedom and protection. I tell them about how earlier this year, Husband and I stood at the grave of a fallen Soldier and watched as they took the flag that draped his coffin and gave it to his mother. I tell them how we continued to stand there as they played taps and then gave the 21 gun salute. I tell them about the gratitude that filled my heart as I thought of this Soldier and his sacrifice. I tell them that wearing a poppy is my way of saying thank you to all those who have given so much so that we may be free. I tell them there are not many veterans from the World Wars left. I fear that their sacrifices and the sacrifices of those who lost their lives will soon be forgotten. As each veteran dies, that is one less tangible reminder of what happened. I don't want them to ever be forgotten. And, so I tell those who ask about my poppy that I wear it to remind myself that we must never forget! For as long as I am alive, I will wear a poppy and I will remember.