After the previous week’s springlike weather, this past week had me bringing out the turtlenecks, sweaters, and socks I thought would rest undisturbed until October. My quilt went back on the bed. We even had a little fire in the woodstove to take the chill off during those rainy, raw days. The Thursday storm that had been predicted with such alarm turned out to be a lesser assault on our island than expected.
Somewhere I read someone commenting that Memorial Day is always chilly and rainy here. I hope that is an incorrect forecast for this Memorial Day. It certainly contradicts my memories of Memorial Days past. I only remember them from my childhood as sunny, fine days for parades and family cookouts.
For a more somber assessment, may I remind everyone why we mark this sacred day? It is a day of remembrance for fallen soldiers. Its original name, Decoration Day, commemorated the loss of so many men and women in so many wars.
I would like to reprint the poem, “In Flanders Fields,’ by John McCrae, a reminder that war is not the glory often portrayed in movies. Lest we forget, here is the poem:
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.
If you have any West Tisbury Town Column suggestions, email Hermine Hull, hermine.hull@gmail.com.
