Memorial Day weekend.

On May 3, 1915 a Candian physician Lt.Col. John McCrae wrote a poem after he witnessed the death of a close friend. Later McCrae rejected his own poem and tore it out of his notebook. A fellow officer saw him do it and rescued it, later it was published.
"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Below 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 weekend, in particular, we honor all men/women who have given their lives for our freedom in all parts of the globe. It is also appropriate that we honor those who have served in some capacity in protecting our nation; and particularly those who have life-long wounds because of their service.
In my wallet I carry a military patch that designates the unit I served with in the Army from 1969-1972. USARPAC, USSAD, ACSI
-eutychus2