When I was growing up, Memorial Day was not celebrated with the same ceremony as it is where we live now. And then, when I moved here, Veteran's Day (called Remembrance Day in The Frozen North) was not celebrated with the same reverence as in my youth.
I suspect it has something to do with the countries involved in which of the World Wars and when the holidays were created and all that.
Perhaps because it's the first war related holiday I recall, or because it's the non-selfish holiday of my childhood, or because it is a tad neglected here in The Jungle, but I've always had a place in my heart for November 11th.
And maybe it's because my mother's father had served in WWII, born during the Great War, and he never talked about his service but always participated in the celebrations, memorials and he always, always wore a poppy during November.
I found this article today while browsing poppy images and while I'd known who had written the poem, I had forgotten parts of the story about how the poppy became such an iconic image of the day.
It was good to be reminded.
This is me, remembering.