From spam yesterday, to quite a different word today: honor.
Both of these words, though, remind me of my grandfathers, two Hawaii boys who joined up just as soon as they could. Happy Veterans Day, Grandpa Oscar and Grandpa George!
(Honor, by the way is derived from the Latin, well, honor.)
Anything I could say about veterans and their sacrifices would sound trite and inadequate, so I will let Lt. Col. John MaCrae, MD, speak instead:
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.
