Memorial Day    

     We've been writing about war in its various forms, begun by Satan, who continues sponsoring bloodshed and hatred across the world. 

     As for military war, remembrance of the dead began in Georgia three years after our Civil War ended. Various cities, states and finally the nation now mark the holiday, with parades, speeches, flowers on graves, and 21-gun salutes. 

     A poem written by Canadian Officer John McCrae, who lost a friend in Flanders fields, Belgium, in WWI. 

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 drawn, saw sunset glow

Loved and were loved, and now we lie   ...in Flanders fields

Take up our quarrel with the foe

To you with 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 was written early in the war, before it turned to bitterness and disillusion.

     Tens of thousands of men died in WWI (too bad Germany's Hitler wasn't one of them), owing to the arrogance of national leaders, we assume. 

             Jimmy