A colleague astonished me yesterday by asking, “What’s the deal with that red flower?” She wanted to know why Prince William, Kate Middleton, and so many other Brits are wearing a poppy on their lapels. To me, this was as absurd as asking, “What’s the deal with that pink ribbon?” You know, the one people wear in October to raise awareness for breast cancer.
For those who have no clue, people wear the poppy from late October to mid-November, primarily to remember those who died in WWI. The peace treaty to end that war was signed at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. Hence, 11:11 is observed as Remembrance Day (or Armistice Day).
The United States changed the name in 1954 to Veterans Day to honor those who served and died in all wars, including Iraq and Afghanistan. Naturally, we thank all veterans for their service. But Black soldiers who fought heroically in both World Wars deserve special mention. After all, nothing could have been more humbling or humiliating than fighting in Europe to “make the world safe for democracy,” only to return to an America that was still neither safe nor democratic — for Black folks.
The heroic poem “In Flanders Fields” was inspired by the death of a soldier in WWI. Over time, it has evolved into an elegy for all war dead. My primary school teacher taught me to recite it with the same reverence that my Sunday school teacher reserved for “The Lord’s Prayer.”
The cultural presumption this imbued explains my astonishment at my colleague’s ignorance. Never mind that I now struggle to recite both, which probably says as much about my encroaching senility as my evolving apostasy.
IN FLANDERS FIELDS
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.
(John McCrae, 1915)
NOTE: This commentary was originally published on 11:11:11. I’ve reprised it each year (with an updated photo), not only to honor all war dead but to commend the UK for its awe-inspiring tributes. These tributes serve as a poignant reminder of the “Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red” that defined both world wars.