I watched a child today at a remembrance day ceremony. His father and I wearing our uniforms, sharing a cold and somber moment, as some wept, others lowered heads. Through it all this child happily played, holding his father, laughing, singing, hugging, never having known hunger, violence, destruction or the loss that others in the room were vividly remembering. This is the way it should be. If for no other reason this is the reason to remember.

It made me think of the famous poem

 
In Flanders Fields


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 the 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, 3rd May 1915

Until Next time.