Some woman asked me if I wanted to buy a paper poppy,”said my college son.“I couldnt believe it. Why would she be doing that right outside the grocery store?”
Oh, my son, I thought. What else have I neglected to teach you?
This tradition of selling poppies on Memorial Day goes back to World War Ⅰ. American soldiers were buried in the pastures and wheat fields and on the battlefields of Europe, where bright red poppies grow wild.
The delicate poppy blossoms,as red as the shed blood they have come to symbolize,nodded among fresh graves.
“In Flanders fields the poppies blow / Between the crosses, row on row....” are the lines jotted down by a Canadian doctor,Lt. Col. John McCrae,while caring for the wounded near a battlefield. His simple words inspired two women on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean.
When Georgia schoolteacher Moina Michael read Colonel McCraes poignant poem, she was so moved by it that she resolved to wear a red poppy to remember those who had died in the war. And she brought silk poppies for her co-workers to wear.
Across the ocean,children orphaned by the war picked poppies to lay on the graves of American soldiers.
A Frenchwoman named Anna Guerin watched them, and her heart went out to them and to the dead Americans who had delivered her country. She came up with the idea of selling silk poppies to help the orphans in the devastated areas of Europe.
The ideas of these two young women eventually grew into the poppy programs of the American Legion Auxiliary and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. Both patriotic groups sell poppies made by disabled and hospitalized veterans. And the proceeds go to help disabled veterans and their families.
Those poppies,as I told my son,are to help us remember the young men and women who gave up their lives to secure our freedom. To me,these fragile flowers are the perfect remembrance of what our freedom cost.
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.
“有個婦女問我是否想買一朵紙罌粟花,”我上大學(xué)的兒子說?!拔覠o法相信這是真的。為什么她會在雜貨店做那樣的事情?”
噢,我的兒子,我想。我還有別的事情沒有教給你嗎?
這種在紀念日賣罌粟花的傳統(tǒng)可以追溯到第一次世界大戰(zhàn)時期。美國士兵被埋葬在位于歐洲戰(zhàn)場上的牧場和麥地中,在那里鮮紅的罌粟在瘋狂地生長著。
雅致的罌粟花朵,像流出的鮮血一樣鮮紅,它們逐漸成為一種象征,在剛剛出現(xiàn)的新的墳頭搖曳著。
“在佛蘭德斯的田野中,在佛蘭德斯戰(zhàn)場上,罌粟花隨風(fēng)飄蕩/在十字架林立的墓地中,一排又一排……”這是加拿大醫(yī)生約翰·麥克可里陸軍上校在一個戰(zhàn)場附近照顧傷員時記錄下的文字。他樸素的語言激勵著大西洋對岸的兩位婦女。
當(dāng)佐治亞州的教師蒙納·邁克爾閱讀到麥克可里上校令人痛苦的詩歌時,她非常激動,于是決心戴上一朵紅罌粟來緬懷那些在戰(zhàn)爭中死去的人。并且她還帶來一些絲綢罌粟花讓她的同事佩戴。
穿越海洋,由于戰(zhàn)爭成為孤兒的孩子們也揀一些罌粟花放在這些美國士兵的墓前。
一位叫安娜·葛溫的法國婦女看到這種情景,她的心也一起隨著他們一起來到了那些為解放她祖國而犧牲的美國人的身旁。于是她想到了去賣絲織罌粟花來幫助那些歐洲遭受戰(zhàn)火毀壞地區(qū)的兒童。
這兩位女士的想法最終成為美國軍隊和外國軍團中的罌粟花計劃。兩個愛國團體開始銷售由殘疾人和住院老兵制作的罌粟花。而這種收益可以幫助那些殘疾的老兵和他們的家庭。
正如我所告訴兒子的那樣,這些罌粟花正幫助我們回憶起那些為確保我們的自由而犧牲自己生命的人們。對我來說,這些脆弱的花兒正是我們自由代價的最好回憶。
在佛蘭德斯戰(zhàn)場上,罌粟花隨風(fēng)飄蕩
十字架林立的墓地,
就是我們居住的地方;
勇敢歌唱云雀仍在天空中翱翔,
槍聲卻不再作響。
不久前,我們戰(zhàn)死沙場。
我們曾經(jīng)活著,感受過黎明和傍晚的霞光,
我們曾經(jīng)為人所愛,現(xiàn)在我們卻長眠于佛蘭德斯戰(zhàn)場。
我們要繼續(xù)與敵人戰(zhàn)斗:
你從我們垂下的手中接過火炬,
并把它高高舉在手中。
如果你背棄我們的遺愿,
即使罌粟花開滿了佛蘭德斯,我們也不會安息。