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| << October28, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - A Gift From Courage |
November06, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - I'm a Skunk >> |
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Good evening, My Family. I do consider you family. I share my life and my most touching moments with you. I bare my heart. Many of you bare yours with me. What a wonderful feeling to know I have a family that spans the world. A couple of weeks ago, I shared wonderful news with you. Our membership topped 700. In just eight months, I gained a huge family of people I love. Our family is now close to 800. Keep forwarding my stories and the link to join. Spread my words. I would love to have a family of 1000 by Christmas. What an exciting gift that would be. If there was a way for me to tell who the 1000th member was, I would offer a prize. Sadly, I have nothing to give - only my stories. I guess I could offer a free copy of my book, if I ever manage to find a publisher for my collection of stories. To be honest, if I do find a publisher, I would want to send all of my wonderful family a free book. Perhaps I could ask anyone interested to send me their email addresses. I could hold a draw and give 100 of my family members a free book. Don't hold your breath. Finding a publisher is very hard. I have a lot of work to do: polish the stories and get them in an order that works. I have a favor to ask. Back in Canada, I used to wear a poppy for Remembrance Day. Some of you may not know what Remembrance Day is. You will when you read my post tonight. If anyone lives is Canada, I would love to have a poppy to wear for Novemeber 11TH. I can't get one here in the USA. If you are willing, please let me know. I will send you my address. I want my co-workers to know what 11/11 means. The poppy is special. Here is why. A Canadian poet and medical officer, John McCrae, penned a poem during the first world war. In Canada, everyone wears a poppy in memory of those who died for our freedom. In Flanders Fields by John McCrea 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. Now for my story: The Meaning Of 11 Here in the USA it is known as Veteran's Day. In Canada, it is known as Remembrance Day and is a national Holiday. The number 11 took on a new meaning after 9/11. Before then, it signified freedom. I had no idea what it meant. To me it was just another holiday. A day when stores were closed and more importantly, there was no school. I knew about the war, but I was free to play. I knew people died for our freedom, but I could sleep in. I knew my parents had little when they were growing up because of the war, but I had food on my plate and a day to watch TV. The real meaning of the day was distant to me. Years later my daughter joined the Brownies. The first year she was a member, I set the alarm to wake us on the morning of 11/11. She had to participate in a parade. Every Brownie, Girl Guide, Cub Scout, and Scout had to participate in this parade in remembrance of those who died for our freedom. My wife and I left our daughter with the Guide leader and proceeded to the Canadian Legion where we waited for her. The kids paraded a mile along the coastal roads of Nova Scotia, carrying their flags high and proud. As we waited for her, the veterans arrived - old men, long past their prime. They'd fought in the trenches and watched their comrades die. Many came in wheelchairs. Some limped. A few stood strong. They joined the kids and walked as proudly as they could to the legion where a band waited. The band played, speeches were made, and on the 11th month, the 11th day, the 11th hour, the 11th minute, and the 11th second there began two minutes of silence. I looked at the veterans. Their sacrifices allowed us to stand there that day. They gave us our freedom. The cold seeped through my jacket. I reached out and held my wife. A tear trickled down my cheek. For years, I slept as these brave men still marched in the cold November air in remembrance for those who died in battle beside them. It took my daughter to make me realize the importance of the day. I never missed another Remembrance Day. Years later, because of work, I was separated from my family. I was in another city, but on Remembrance Day, I heard there was going to be a service in the city square. I was in Saint John, New Brunswick. I put on my jacket and a tie, walked the mile to the service, stood in the damp cold with a poppy proudly displayed on my lapel. I watched those brave men once again march for our freedom. I don't know if it was because I was away from my family or the sight of those old men still walking proudly, but the memory of that service never fades from my memory. They marched, wheeled, and limped to the city square. The mayor gave a speech. The two minutes of silence came. A bagpipe began to play "Amazing Grace." After the first chorus, a second one joined in, along with a small band. On the third chorus, more bagpipes joined and a brass band began to play. The building of sound, the magic of the moment is something I will never forget. Tears filled my eyes that day, as the blood must have filled the trenches in battle. The moment is burned in my mind forever. On November 11th, please take a moment to remember those who fought for our freedom and those that continue to fight for it. May God bless them all. Michael T. Smith I love your comments and promise to reply to all of them. I will share a few with our family every week. Please send your comments to mtsmith@qwestonline.com Feel free to send my stories to your friends, but please include the links for them to read more and to sign up. To sign up and to read more of my stories, go to: http://archives.zinester.com/86758 To unsubscribe: http://www.zinester.com/cgi/unsub.cgi?86758&0& Now for some comments from last week. Regarding my story - A Gift of Courage From my adobted mom- She's biased of course smile Oh Mikey, a teary one! So well written! ***************** About my story called, I Stood In The Rain Mike, My comments are out of order, I have gotten behind on my e-mails. Sorry. I loved this, I can identify with it. It brought back memories, trick or treating with my brothers, I was a scarecrow...and a hobo, we made up our own costumes, most of the time our faces were painted, no masks. But we had so much fun. That 'in between' age is hard...I think I trick or treated until I was 14. LOL (so did my daughters, who never had a storebought costume-I always made them. In everyone's life there are lots of times we have to 'stand in the rain,' thanks for always sharing yours so eloquently. Patty ***************** |
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| << October28, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - A Gift From Courage |
November06, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - I'm a Skunk >> |
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