Lest We Forget

[von Corax]

The traditional Remembrance Day recitation of "In Flanders Fields" by Lt Col John McCrae:

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrea

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.

This year, I offer the Canadian Encyclopedia entry for the poem, "In Flanders Fields."

I have my alarm set for 11:00 a.m. so I may observe the two minutes of silence among the many minutes of silence which are my norm...

[chicar]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSVRPLHb/

[von Corax]

Don't forget that Remembrance Day in Canada is an entirely different groove than Veterans' Day in the USA.

Whole Foods employee who blew whistle on poppy ban 'in disbelief' over reaction

Remembrance Day sales in Canada are 'a rookie mistake,' expert says

[von Corax]

Bumped for the day.

[Prof Marvel]

PLUS ULTRA, Sir

thank you for reminding us.

prf mumbles

[von Corax]

Bumped for the day.

Just for a change, here's Lawrence Binyon's 1914 poem "For the Fallen":

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Copied from The Poetry Foundation

[Hez]

I wish it wasn't a day off, it used to be a day of education.
In my childhood we still attended school but the day started with assembly to talk about the day. I still remember the stories told by our Dutch janitor who had been our age during the occupation of the Netherlands. A child like us when he risked being shot to sneak out after curfew to pick grass in the local park to take home for food. 
Mr. Wormspecker, 55 years later I remember you and I raise a glass to you, you were the one who truly made the war a real thing and not just history.
I was asked by an 8 year old immigrant why we wanted to remember something as horrible as war.  He was not rude, just confused and really listened to me. I told him what i had been taught each November 11th in school, that it is not just about remembering those who fought, or those who suffered.  That it about remembering so that we try not to let it happen again.  I worry that this is no longer being taught.