The Story of the Poppy
• A Purr-fect View
May 27, 2010 – I'm intrigued by some of the things humans do or fail to do. Memorial Day is a good example. Sure it's a holiday but at what price? Investigation was needed and that led me to the origin of the poppy that is sold to help veterans. Bruce Campbell, with Veterans Outreach gave me the history and to him I meow my thanks.
The story of the red poppy…
In France during World War I poppies, whose seeds lay dormant, mysteriously sprang up after the soil had been churned up during battle by soldiers' boots and movement of artillery in and around Flanders Field. Around 1919 two women--one French the other American began making paper poppies and selling them to aid the widows and orphaned children of the deceased soldiers and returning veterans.
By 1922 the poppy, symbolic of those that grew in and around Flanders Field, was adopted by the Veterans of Foreign Wars as a fundraiser for disabled veterans. In 1924 the name "Buddy Poppy" was registered with the patent office. The flowers are sold on Armistice Day, now called Veterans Day, November 11, and on Memorial Day, the last Monday in May. The poem, In Flanders Fields by John McCrae tells this remarkable story.
Following World War II poppies were made by disabled veterans to cover some of the expense of their care. Hmmm…I don't see many poppies being worn…is that because they are not being purchased or because Americans are too embarrassed to be seen wearing one?
Those who have served in the Marines, Navy, Army, Air Force, and Coast Guard deserve to be recognized for their service. Whoever thinks Freedom is free needs to think again. It comes with a price and some have paid the ultimate price so we can remain free to choose among other things our religion, the schools we send out children to, the jobs we choose to engage in and the place we opt to call home.
Our first veterans served in the wilderness of our early nation as a rag-tag band of loosely trained soldiers but strong believers in freedom as they battled the Red Coats. They fought against each other—blue against gray—to free the slave from bondage and rallied around the mast of the sunken battleship USS Maine
They waged war from trenches while staring out over a no man's land; lived in foxholes and jungles in the South Pacific, the deserts of Africa and the cold of northern Europe and were moved to tears at the sight of concentration camp survivors. They've shed their blood at the borders between North and South Korea and been ignored and spat upon when they returned from Vietnam.
They've come back intact, missing parts, with horror stories, miracles of survival and either new friends or sorrow at the loss of buddies. They lie under grass of verdant green in cemeteries here and abroad. On Memorial Day each grave receives a flag whose stars and strips snap a crisp salute in the breeze. Those who lie in military cemeteries are watched over by gleaming white headstones standing in perfect straight lines as sentinels.
If you're still undecided about purchasing that poppy picture a military funeral where all you hear is silence, see the meticulously folded flag handed to the wife, husband, child or parent(s), hear the echo of the gun salute and then the bugle sound of Taps…
Thank you, soldiers, and God bless.
