A letter from the editor.
Every November 11, I sit back and give thanks for the sacrifice that a great deal of men and women who came before me eagerly made. They weren’t eager to suffer, nor could they truly appreciate the horror of their fate, but they were quick to give all for others. It is with great despair that I look around at my world, the world which we have become. I despair because there are so few left who know the value of giving all and what it truly means. Only those people who love so fully are truly free.
To those veterans who are still with us, I say a heartfelt thank you. I will pray that the evil that you saw may never be visited upon our planet again. To those who have gone on ahead of us, I say God Bless, and thank you for all that I have.
I couldn’t help but notice a sad trend this week. As I walked around the city this week, the fact that it was mostly older folk who were wearing their poppies on their hearts was very conspicuous. We must, in order to avoid repeating our past, impart what we know, and what we feel, to our children.
I have written no real article today, the first day I have done so deliberately since I started this website in May. I think it is fitting, as this day isn’t about me or you, but about those whom we must never forget. Those who died in a war we must never revisit. My missing article today may be construed as Conservative Joe’s moment of silence.
In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
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.
I pray that our Heavenly Father
may assuage the anguish of your bereavement,
and leave you only the cherished memory of the
loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours,
to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.
— Abraham Lincoln, November 1864