The Reminder is making its archives back to 2003 available on our website. Please note that, due to technical limitations, archive articles are presented without the usual formatting.
I've noticed a disappointing trend leading up to Remembrance Day. Maybe it's my imagination, but I can't remember seeing so few poppies on coats, shirts and hats. Everywhere I've gone over the past week, the people wearing the bright red flower pin have been outnumbered by those without. I'm left to wonder why. Is it no longer fashionable to wear a poppy? Are people too busy to pin one on? Are they oblivious as to what time of year it is? Then I begin to ponder whether the immortal message of "Lest We Forget" is beginning to lose its lustre more than six decades after the guns of the Second World War fell silent. Maybe it's just human nature. Most of us were born after the war and have known only peace without sacrifice. When you experience something every day, it's impossible to fully appreciate how good you have it. Maybe it's a lack of understanding. Although more than 2,000 of our finest are in Afghanistan, the concept of war remains foreign to Canadians. We don't know what it's like to watch a buddy bleed to death or for an enemy to line us up in the crosshairs. If we did, none of us would be without a poppy. Whenever I've heard veterans describe their experiences, I've tried to put myself in their boots. Would I be brave enough to risk my life for others? Could I function on the battlefield? Could I pull the trigger? But back to the poppies. I'm not trying to say that everyone without one lacks class or is unappreciative of past sacrifices. More likely, they just don't fully appreciate the significance of those plastic flowers. A poppy shows that we stand united in our eternal gratitude to veterans past, present and future. For that reason, let's all hope the poppy-less trend is short-lived. * * * In Flanders Fields By John McCrae 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. Local Angle runs Fridays.
