Veteran’s Day


Posted on : 11-Nov-2010 | By : Amber | In : Uncategorized

If you’re looking for the weirdness that is the usual discussion of my life, you won’t find it here. You see, this day is important to me, for a lot of reasons, and I think that deserves one of my few serious moments.

Because of the men and women who stood, and still stand, in defense of our country, I have the freedom to write these insane, irreverent ramblings. Because they took up arms in dark times, I can choose what church I want to walk into, or choose not to walk into one at all. Because they donned a uniform, I can decide where and how to educate my children. Because many died on foreign soil, I can not only criticize my government openly, I can change it by walking into a voting booth.

I can bear arms to protect my family. I can speak openly and freely. I can choose my career, my spouse, my religion. I can do so many things that others elsewhere only dream of – because of those who once served, and who still do.

My father served. My father-in-law served. My uncle, my grandfathers – they served. Dear friends of mine still wear the uniforms of the armed forces of this country, and I am proud to call them friends.

So: Phil, Don, Willie, Rusty, Billy, Alex W., Bob C., Bob L., Cade C., Cathy S., Chris F., Chris H., David L., Derek B., DJ G., Doug R., Eugene P., Jerry R., Joe B., Josh K., Kevin S., Keaton B., Mark H., Matt P., Mekala P., Patrick L., Robert S., Ross S., Shawn C., Staci C., Steve C., Todd M., Richard L., Michael S., Pat R., Denny R., Wade S. – and so many others – thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.


In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

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.

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