Memorial Day
Memorial Day, celebrated on the last Monday in May, commemorates the men and women who have died while in the military service of their country, particularly those who died in battle or as a result of wounds sustained in battle. The purpose of Memorial Day is to memorialize the veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. To celebrate, we spend time remembering those who lost their lives and could not come home, reflecting on their service and why we have the luxury and freedom that we enjoy today.
Traditionally, on Memorial Day , people visit cemeteries and memorials, and volunteers often place American flags on each grave site at national cemeteries. A national moment of remembrance takes place at 3:00 p.m. The custom of honoring ancestors by cleaning cemeteries and decorating graves is an ancient and worldwide tradition, but the United States traditionally engages in this custom on Memorial Day.
The PRHS Learning Commons has a strong collection of notable fiction and nonfiction highlighting stories of wartime. Looking for more titles? Check out the War | Conflict collection (this collection is more focused on a global scale).
Did you know that after World War I, Poppies were adopted as the symbol of remembrance and honor for veterans around the world? In the United States however, we wear the symbolic red flower on Memorial Day to commemorate the sacrifice for all those who have given their lives fighting for our country.
In Flanders Fields
BY JOHN MCCRAE
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.
We Shall Keep the Faith
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet – to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.