I was the “guest” at a wedding last Sunday. It turned out to be a lovely affair – amazing considering they had no flowers as of last week. Proof you can do amazing things in a short amount of time, with a small legion of friends and family who care. And I’m happy to report there were no incidents. At least no major incidents. I did have a renegade spicy chicken piece jump down the front of my dress. That was a shock – to me and anyone who happened to see me reach down and retrieve it. Sure, I could have left it there and everyone would have been none the wiser. Unfortunately, it lodged in the middle of my bra and began burning a hole in my flesh. Seeing how I’m none too keen on pain, I really had no other choice …
You see them every year–veterans selling small paper poppies. Every year fewer of us seem to take note–we simply haven’t the time. We should take the time, however. For poppies, you see, are rather amazing flowers. Though they appear frail, they are quite valiant. Their seeds can remain underground, sleeping, for years. All it takes is a good churning of the soil to awaken them from their slumber. And that’s exactly what happened on the fields of Northern France and Flanders during WWI. Amid the death and destruction of the battlefield, red poppies began to bloom. One day Lt. Col. John McCrae, a physician from Canada, looked out over the crimson blossoms and penned the following:
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 field…
McCrae died a few years later–joining those of whom he wrote, with a cross marking his place, in a sea of poppies, far from home. But McCrae’s words continue to remind us of the countless men and women who have given their lives for freedom. They paid the highest price. The least we can do is be thankful for the sacrifice. So this Memorial Day let us take the time. Buy a poppy. Say a prayer. Remember.
So, I’m meeting a friend at the theatre on Saturday. We watch the movie and on the way out we chat about the Stepford Wives. We agree it’s creepy. We laugh. We part. I come back out to my car and parked next to me is a new Beetle. Now Beetles are usually friendly fellows – they tend to make you smile with just one look. This one, however, gave off an air of sinister. Why would you say such a thing? I will tell you why – because the whole back window was filled with mannequin heads. GASP! It was morbidly disturbing. So I did what any rational person would do – I took a picture. I ever-so-inconspicuously held up my cell phone, looked the other way, snapped the picture, jumped in my car and quickly drove away. Who knows what would have happened if I had stuck around …
Oh, and in case your wondering why said picture is not posted – here’s the thing: I got a new cell phone. And I can’t figure out how to download. Pitiful, I know. Therefore, only close, personal friends get to view the alarming image – the rest of you must rely upon your imagination …
