He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. He was delighted and delightful. He stood in front of my desk both excited and enthralled. “You’re wearing a poppy,” he said. “Why, yes, I am,” I answered him. And I was touched and thoroughly pleased that he was pleased.
I wonder if the coming generations will give much thought to Remembrance Day. I wonder if they will forget. But today I met a young boy that gave me a bit of hope. I wear the poppy to remember them. I hope one day he will too.
Lest we forget!