In Flanders fields, the poppies blow

I’m very disappointed in TinyTown today. I got to the cenotaph at 11 am, and promptly shovelled it out. there were some snow drifts around it, and I wanted it to look good when the ceremony started momentarily.

At the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day, I stood by myself in the cold and wind on an empty street.

Empty.

From what I could see the Royal Canadian Legions parking lot was packed. I didn’t bother going over, because I’m not a member.

I could be a member, my grandfather was a veteran of the Second World War.

In the snow, while I shovelled, I didn’t see any fresh foot prints or anything to show that they actually even did the ceremony.

So I did my own thing. Marched up, saluted, and laid my poppy on the cenotaph for my grandfather. Stood up, marched away, and simply walked back to the flat.

According to last weeks town newsletter, the time frame for the ceremony was at 10:50. That means they started early, finished early and were inside the legion drinking when THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HONOURING THE FALLEN.

I’m very disappointed in TinyTown today.

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 In Flanders fields
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 In Flanders fields
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields