The Goderich Signal-Star, 1984-11-07, Page 8PAGE—GODERICH SIPNAL-STAR, W4DNVSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1984
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WHAT THE POPPY
MEANS TO ME
An Essay by
BONNIE TURNER
Seaforth, Ontario.
It was the twelfth of November: the day after
Remembrance Day. The autumn morning was
cold and dreary, and my mind was as cloudy
as the drab sky above. Angry at the world and
the people in it, I walked swiftly, lost in my
own thoughts. Almost mechanically, I drew
my coat around myself and sat down on the
seasoned park bench beside the cenotaph
commemorating the men killed in thcWorld
Wars and the Korean War. There I stayed,
seeing no, one who passed by and caring
about nothing but my own problems.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a
stooped figure, slowly making his way in the
brisk wind. With his head down, and gnarled
hands clutching his overcoat, the old
gentleman walked as though every step were
an effort.
Unaware of my presence, the man stopped
nearby. He drew hiMself up with dignity. His
eyes held a look of pride. Following his gaze,
saw that the old gentleman's eyes were upon
the cenotaph, which was newly laden in
t wreaths. Probably he was a veteran of one of
the world wars. I smiled and looked back to
him. His eyes were, no longer on the monu-
ment. He was staring into the grass near the
bench where I sat. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Sadly he shook his head and started off down
the street.
I was puzzled. What object could make a man
as I had just seen, so distressed? My eyes sear-
ched the ground for what was lying there, and
there it was - a poppy. It was not even real.
Just a simple plastic poppy was on the
ground. I frowned. How could such a forlorn,
little flower make a Man so heavy-hearted?
What did it matter? Remembrance Day was
already over.
•THEY DID NOT DIE IN VAIN
It is Remembrance time again and we will
again pay tribute, with appropriate
ceremony, at the cenotaphs and memorials
erected to our war dead throughout Canada,
and beyond.
Eighty-five years have passed since the South
African War began, 70 years since the beginn-
ing of World War I, forty-five years since
World War'll broke out, and even the conflict
in Korea started nearly 15 years ago. Thus
there must be a large number of young people
who cannot, from personal memory, have a
full appreciation of the meaning of Remem-
brance, even including some sons and
daughters of those being honoured at the
Remembrance services.
Are we informing?
As we participate in these ceremonies - by ac-
tual attendance at the services, not in front of
television sets, I hope - we must ask ourselves
what we are doing to inform our children, our
youth generally, of the significance of this oc-
casion.
Perhaps we might go further and ask if we can
analyze it for ourselves satisfactorily.
Well, why do we hold Remembrance services?
Why should we attend them, especially when
the wind is chill or more attractive pursuits
he kon.
Undoubtedly the first reason is the war dead
themselves; more than 112,000 of them in the
four conflicts listed, above. Their names and
their regiments are permanently inscribed in
Canada's four Books of Remembrance, and
in the hearts of those who knew and loved
thenri.
Their graves are in far -away places and in the
seven seas. It is a sobering experience to walk
among the serried rows of headstones in the
war cemeteries and note their names,
sometimes familiar ones, and their ages - 18,
20, 23, 25; truly the flower of youth, its pro-
mise unfulfilled.
But not all of them have markers over their
final resting places. Those who "vanished"
are commemorated on the great memorials
erected by Canada and the Commonwealth
War Graves Commission, of which Canada is
a senior member. They are but names, a
single line to each, on panels of stone or
bronze; 11,285 on the ramparts of the ma-
jestic Vimy Memorial alone.
Why did they have to die? Was their sacrifice
worthwhile?
Their lives were part of the price demanded of
the free world for the preservation of
freedom. For freedom is never "free". It is
the prerogative only of those who are
prepared to defend it. Failure to resist each
encroachment upon it inevitably means that it
must he redeemed, eventually, at an
awesome price.
The 15 years that culminated in 1945 arp a
4c,Joissic example of that axiom.
Was it worthwhile? Only those who have lost
their freedom can adequately answer that.
Only those who know the tyranny of a dic-
tatorship, and the darkness that descends
when justice is abrogated, know what it is like
not to be free.
There are many such people. in your com-
munity. Let them speak!
Let us, on this Remembrance Day, honour
those who, by their sacrifice, gave us the right
to live in democratic freedom.
An inspiration
Let us make it our resolve to preserve their
memory, and to inspire in our children the
ideals for which they gave their lives.
Let us, with sympathy and enthusiasm, do all
we can to care for their widows and their or-
phans, and for their surviving comrades
whose wounds and scars were also part of the
price of freedom.
These men, and those who marched with
them, fought not for personal gain, nor for
glory or for conquest.
Their homeland was their love; duty wg-11:---teir
creed; meaningful were their lives; truly they
are Canada's heroes.
Let us, in our time and in our way, be worthy
of their tradition.
Then I realized how much that poppy meant.
That simple little flower was not just a scrap
of plastic; it stood for important things. It was
peace, and freedom - not only mine - but the
peace and freedom of my family, and friends
and neighbours. Yet, it was more than these.
That poppy was the soldiers. Soldiers fighting
at Vimy Ridge and at Dieppe. It was these
men, fighting for their freedom, and freedom
for the world. It was their families back home
in Canada, lying there on the soggy ground.
I shrugged. Remembrance Day was over. That
poppy wouldn't matter again until next year. I
tried to think of my own concerns, but I
couldn't concentrate. My mind wandered.
Once again I saw the old man's face as the
tears came into his eyes. 1 saw the poppy, ly-
ing in the grass, and I was ashamed.
Remembering the soldiers who fought for
Canada was not just a yearly obligation. Their
gift of peace lasts all year round, and so
should their memories. I had sat here,
moments before, angry at the world, when
those men loved the world so much that they
gave their youth, many their lives for us.
These were the people to be grateful to, not
just on Remembrance Day, but every clay, for
they were the ones -who earned our freedom.
For the first time that day, the world seemed
friendly to me. I knelt down, rescued the pop-
py from the wet grass and proudly pinned it
to my coat. The rest of the world might have
thought it was just a battered and shabby
poppy, but to me it was special - for now I
knew what it meant.
In;Etandetrfiell the lAiplis 6loiv
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 aild 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, tho poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
irta tohlikl(Cpar
THANKS TO THESE COMMUNITY -MINDED SPONSORS FOR
1E1(..'f
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eep it Forever
Ozt
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The sights; the sounds;
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Lest We Forget.
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202 Anglesea St., Goderich
To the many Veterans from
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f ught for • sur Freedom
FLOWER SHOP Rick Polio A Family
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