May offers so many opportunities to honor individuals–students and graduates, mothers, and living or deceased veterans. Morrison American Legion Post #328 will assist with the latter tribute, by selling Veteran-handcrafted poppies on Saturday, May 16, 2015. This simple blossom evokes deep emotion in those who know its significance.
Look for Legionnaires at Sullivan’s Foods, 300 N. Madison Street, Morrison, IL, throughout the day and from 9:00 a.m. to noon at the following Morrison banks:
- Community State, 220 E. Main Street
- Farmers National, 1100 E. Lincolnway
- Triumph Community, 211 W. Main Street
- Wells Fargo, 100 W. Lincolnway.
The wearing of a poppy means “honor the dead and help the living.” As the memorial flower for the American war dead, the poppy is a tradition which began following the First World War. Veterans remembered bright, red, wild poppies, which bloomed on the battlefields and graves of valiant young men buried in the sacred plots of French soil. The medieval County of Flanders spans southern Belgium and north-west France.
Soldiers of all Nations came to look upon this flower as a living symbol of their dead comrades’ sacrifice. It was a sign of hope and renewal for those who lived to remember.
Hospitalized veterans quickly learned to assemble poppies while growing well again. Through the winter months, cut materials are delivered to them in Veterans Administration hospitals or nursing homes. Soon, boxes of bright, red poppies are ready for distribution in May. When payday arrives, what a thrill to receive payment for a job well done! What a joy it is to wear a poppy made by a hospitalized veteran!
Know that the money it brought the veteran filled a desperate need. All money received during the distribution of these poppies is returned to the veterans, through service programs of The American Legion and the American Legion Auxiliary.
“In Flanders’ Fields” was written by a Canadian officer, Colonel John McCrae, who was killed during World War I.
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 amidst 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.