foetoes

Happy birthday, Sammy

To dream the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

In Flanders Field by John McCrae

In Flanders field the poppy’s blow 
between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place: and in the sky
The lark still bravely singing flies,
scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow
loved and were loved, and now we lie
in Flanders field.

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
the torch: be it yours to hold it high, if ye break faith with us who die
we shall not sleep, though poppies grow,
in Flanders field
.

Lest we Forget.

The Long Walk

Today is Remembrance Day.

For the past 6 years Frank has made the journey from Camp Jupiter to Vancouver to visit his mother’s grave. It is the fourth year he has made the trip alone

Keep reading

In Flander's Fields by John McCrea

In Flander’s 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 Flander’s 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 Flander’s Fields.

 - Lieutenant Colonel John McCrea, 1915

Lest we forget. 11/11