Random Thoughts 

…I had on a rather horrific Friday the 13th 

  
Great Britain is the father you never got along with, but with whom you eventually reconciled and discovered you had a lot in common with. 

France is the crazy uncle you love to whack on, but God help anyone else who does. Every family has one. 

Germany could have been the strict disciplinarian of the family, but the bad behavior of the 20th century put paid to that, and we’ve pretty much disowned him. 

Just sayin’.

In Flanders Fields

by John McCrae, May 1915

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.