To all the veterans, sung and unsung, who've made it possible for us, as a people, to have the freedom to publicly argue differing points of view both here and elsewhere without fear, without recrimination, without censure. May your sacrifice and the sacrifices of your families never be forgotten. In Flanders Fields Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD 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. ______________________ Here Dead We Lie Alfred Edward Housman Here dead we lie Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung. Life, to be sure, Is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, And we were young. __________________________ Arlington National Cemetery Section 60 A lone house-key, a melting Twix, two Miller Lites, a crucifix. A fifth of rum, a pack of Kools, report cards from far distant schools. Four hard-backed books, a tear-stained poem, a cell phone programmed to call home. Three dozen letters never read, a pillow from a double bed. A Barbie doll, three Lego cars, Nine lightening bugs in Mason Jars. Six polished stones, a strand of beads, a planter filled with apple seeds. Two coffee cups that catch the rain, three Red Sox caps, a plastic train. Eight birthday cards, a catcher's mitt, a sweater someone's mother knit. A thousand pictures creased and torn. One wedding veil that won't be worn.