When I was a little boy it was called “Armistice Day.”
Mom the historian told me that Americans began to pray for “The War, WWI” to come to an end. Prayers were offered each and every day at eleven am. And Armistice was signed at eleven in the morning, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month. See the power of prayer? I think that was Mom’s Methodism speaking.
As a lad I remember buying a “Buddy Poppy” on Armistice Day. “In Flanders Field the poppies grow, between the crosses, row by row…” Veterans of Foreign Wars sold them. Armistice day was different from Memorial Day, which was set aside in May to honor those who gave their lives in Military Service. Armistice Day honored all those who served. And I read that in 1954 the name was officially changed to Veterans Day.
I guess there are no more veterans of WWI, no one to remind us of the trenches, no one to sing, “If the Camels don’t getcha the Fatimas must.” We look back at that War and ask ourselves, “Why?” Will my grandchildren ask that same question about WWII? Will there be anyone left to ask about WWIII?
TIME magazine tells a story of the British Ambassador who wrote of a danger in the American Constitution. The possibility that the mob might raise one of their own into the Presidency, an ignoramus loved by them, who had the power to send our country into another civil war or worse. God forbid!
Dac Crossley
November 11, 2019.
“As gravity bends light, so power bends time.” – Christopher Clark.
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