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.
— John McCrae
This past Sunday, after sneaking in behind the choir, I grabbed my old, familiar seat in a middle pew at the church of my childhood (because no Presbyterian chooses the front pews unless amicably forced). The sermon centered on Remembrance Day and when the congregation struck up a proud, vociferous ‘Oh Canada,’ I started to cry. It has been 13 years since I’ve been in a room full of Canadian patriots singing the anthem of my homeland and the angst with which I suddenly longed for maple leaves and frosty air hit me like a GO train.
Hence, why I will absolutely, decidedly, indubitably, positively, unquestionably, determinedly, unequivocally…be attending this event on Saturday. Group of Seven paintings and Canadian ice wine are just the extinguisher I need for my conflagrant homesickness.
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.
— John McCrae
This past Sunday, after sneaking in behind the choir, I grabbed my old, familiar seat in a middle pew at the church of my childhood (because no Presbyterian chooses the front pews unless amicably forced). The sermon centered on Remembrance Day and when the congregation struck up a proud, vociferous ‘Oh Canada,’ I started to cry. It has been 13 years since I’ve been in a room full of Canadian patriots singing the anthem of my homeland and the angst with which I suddenly longed for maple leaves and frosty air hit me like a GO train.
Hence, why I will absolutely, decidedly, indubitably, positively, unquestionably, determinedly, unequivocally…be attending this event on Saturday. Group of Seven paintings and Canadian ice wine are just the extinguisher I need for my conflagrant homesickness.
3 comments:
I get a card bearing the poem by Lt. Col. Dr. John McCrae with a lapel poppy every Armistice Day courtesy of the Royal Canadian Legion. Well I recall looking up at the stained glass windows with his name & those of his compatriots inscribed in them. An astonishing 620+served and died in active service during that war from UT.
The last Canadian combat vet of WW1 in a typical Canadian fashion refused any honors for 'just being the last one left', and the lavish ceremonies had to canceled & scaled back. It was such a misbegotten war. We also recall the one-in-three Oxford undergraduates killed, a slightly less dramatic toll for Cambridge, but nothing to compare to such a horrific swath that war saw on that generation of youth.
Cheers & Good Luck, 'VJ'
I can't wait for the day we go to war with you guys....
Phil, Believe it or not, an active war plan still existed in the era before WW11. It was seemingly strangely based on the sterling strategy that got us so far during the last unpleasantness of 1812. (No Really).
This is one reason why to this day, when advertising events like Jessica's mention of the 2nd Canadian Craft Fair, it has to be hosted by a serious but silly sounding outfit like 'canadianally.com'. It's like the big 'Don't shoot, we're on Your side!' sign and/or the old saloon signs: 'Don't shoot the Piano players!' (The supply of Canadian talent would naturally dry up!)
Cheers, 'VJ'
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