I’ve seen a few veterans selling poppies, and a few people wearing them. I don’t think they’re the majority though. I even bought (and wear) one, but they always sort of make me feel I’m expressing support for war, and especially for Canada’s participation in WWI. Still, I’m able to convince myself that I’m only expressing support for the soldiers who fought these wars, regardless of what their opinions were.
Too dominant? Perhaps rather a symptom of the support required - and willingly given - for the families of those who don’t come home, and the greater support sometimes needed for those who come home with bits missing, either in body or mind or both.
I don’t see this as a ‘Support Our (historical) Troops’ thing at all, though I’ve met some people who have that idea. To me, this is a remembrance of the folly of war. Of the great waste of youth, of lives not lived, of young men drowning in poison gas by the tens of thousands. It’s not a celebration of heroes, but an acknowledgement of sacrifice, and a mourning of the worst humanity is capable of, and a reminder of the horrors we can visit upon each other if we don’t work to stop ourselves. And which, indeed, we still do, to this day.
We’ve become kind of jingoistic, as a society, in convenient, prepackaged ways. (Maybe we always were, I suppose.) What seemed to start with red ribbons for AIDS has expanded to envelop every disease imaginable, and then on to every sort of allegiance you can think of – I actually saw a blue-digital-camo-pattern ribbon this week, which I can only guess was the latest permutation of the ‘support our troops’ thing. And a month ago was the stripy ribbon for breeders of a certain variety of dog (I kid you not). And when it’s not that it’s hockey teams.
But for me the poppy isn’t about this kind of ‘vote with your lapel’ allegiance. It’s a reminder, through the imagery of those little weeds growing in Belgian fields that still have hidden shells waiting to be dug up, or rows of graves that never should have been, that war is truly terrible. Terrible beyond the experience of most of us in this comfortable, first-world society – but not for everyone, and not even for us if we don’t continue to strive to make a world where we don’t do that.
A friend told me a while ago that he wasn’t wearing a poppy “because I don’t support war.” I told him, in effect, “Neither do I. That’s the point.” He accompanied me to the parade later that week, wearing a poppy I’d given him. And as we stood there surrounded by people too old now to march, and people too young to know what they did, I think I got through to him that the point of this all was that the we can, and should have a world where the jarring sound of those guns is only heard at this annual ceremony.
So I’m not worried that Remembrance Day might seem to have become ‘too dominant’, as if it’s an overindulgence given to just another pushy charity. In fact, I suppose if there is growing dispassion for the occasion, it may be a side effect of the fortunate situation of most of us not having first-hand experience with war in a good while.
Our poppies don’t look like that, but they are sold every Veteran’s Day here in the Chicago area. I can’t find a pic of the kind we get. They’re made of some sort of “cloth”, cut out with a black bit of plastic in the middle (it looks much like the head of a large pin used in sewing), and a green twist tie to connect it to whatever you like. I used to twine it around my rearview mirror so that other vets could see I had already donated while I was driving around.
I don’t really see the controversy here. Yes, the act and image is open to political manipulation, but in the end, anything that raises awareness re our (any) vets is a good thing. Unlike the ridiculous, ubiquitous yellow ribbons here, at least the poppy is tied to a monetary donation, supporting a good cause. Just MO.
My husband stopped a kid from stealing the poppy donation jar from McDonald’s last week.
I feel a little guilty I can’t really wear one this year. I have a tiny baby, who I’m always carrying around. Seeing as I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve stabbed myself with my poppies over the years, I just don’t want to take a chance. I don’t care what others think - I haven’t forgotten.
I was a bit flummoxed at the supermarket this morning when I was stopped from using the self-service checkout because there was going to be a two minute silence shortly. It took me a while to realise it was Remembrance Day as I’m more used to Anzac Day.
Here in the Midwest I remember those cloth poppies from when I was a kid, but I haven’t seen any lately. We’re doing special activities in our school Wednesday, having veterans come in and talk to the kids in small groups, and I plan on reading “Flanders Field” to my English class.
Poppy sellers are nothing compared to Oxfam and Shelter, who set up “gates” of volunteers, actively trying to stop you as you go about your business, along every high street. Nor are they anywhere near the obnoxiousness of the jackasses who plan the yearly Marie Curie midnight marathon (who the fuck thought that one up? Hint: even if people don’t talk, the sound of hundreds of people’s feet trodding the road sounds like a battalion’s moving through the city).
Until Poppy sellers become anything more than old men and women standing quietly on the street, or something other than a box next to a till, they’re alright by me.
What wolfstu said.
Lest We Forget.
I don’t think it’s too dominant. It’s for a good cause. And plus there are plenty of immigrants and their children that need to be reminded of the sacrifices the vets made for the wars of the past. I believe there isn’t enough that we do in Canada. There were reports that some banks and national retailers were refusing to let vets stand outside and sell the poppies and they got their asses handed to them via news outlets. It’s this kind of apathy towards the past sacrifices that poppies should be everywhere during the week we remember the soldiers. I’m from an immigrant family and when I watch some of the documentaries of WWI and WWII and the Korean War, a tear wells up in my eyes to be proud that I’m a Canadian. The world forgets the impact that Canada had in those wars. I wish we never forget the sacrifices and that we become proud of the heritage our soldiers set forth for us and the future generations.
I am afraid to say that they aren’t volunteers, but paid agency staff who are paid commission for each person they sign up. I am actually a genuine Oxfam volunteer, working in one of their bookshops, and most of us object to those sort of tactics and have even complained to head office it about this practice, but to no avail.
All these “chuggers” (charity muggers) do is alienate people, who then come into our shop to complain about them. We have no control over them, and we are never told when they are in town. I even had a run-in with one of them last year when I was leaving the shop. I told him, in so many words, to get lost!
I was helping out at the pub on Guy Fawkes night, and when I had finished I went in to talk to my wife who was helping behind the bar. A regular was there (a lovely old guy who carries too much weight and should really drink less), and he commented to me that both his father and brother served with NZers - his father with the ANZACs at Gallipoli, and his brother in Italy. He said that they both considered them to be the bravest and most generous people - tough as nails, playing hard and fighting even harder.
I have no reason to doubt him, and I was touched. The soldiers who fought in the wars are deep part of what defined the country I grew up in, and we owe those who fought a debt of honour that should be remembered. As a practical matter (living in the UK), I prefer to quietly remember ANZAC day privately than Remembrance day in November - I’ll get a poppy now and keep it till then.
Si
There is a programme about this very subject at 9 o’clock tonight on Channel 4. It’s called Not Forgotten, Soldiers of Empire and is presented by Ian Hislop. :-
Our abiding image of First World War troops is of stoical British Tommies fighting for King and country, says Ian Hislop in this understated, poignant film. But in fact there were also 2.5 million soldiers from Asia, Africa, the West Indies, Ireland, Canada, New Zealand and Australia. Very effectively, Hislop uses the personal stories of four soldiers from diverse parts of the Empire to illustrate the attitudes of the time and to find out whether they should have fought for “us” at all.
I have to say that I fully support the motives of the poppy campaign. I have worn the poppy and donated regularly.
To me it has never felt like a glorification of war, more a sad reflection of the waste of young life. Too many and too young.
However I do worry about the creeping element of “compulsion” that I perceive around this time of year. To me, such pressures don’t sit well with the main reason for fighting the wars in the first place.
I choose to remember the sacrifices in my own way.
Similarly, my justification for wearing the poppy or not is mine alone to make and I don’t take kindly to the expectation of conforming to the norms.
I’ll wear it of my own free will thank you. Don’t buy one for me and expect me to put it on. Were I to go on the BBC and have one thrust upon me…I’d refuse.
Of course this means that in some quarters I’d be branded as uncaring and ungrateful.
So be it, those people don’t know my mind. They were not there on Sunday with me, in the car with my little boy snoozing peacefully in the back.
The hushed tones of Radio 4 live from the cenotaph, The sounding of the gun, the 2 minute silence and “Nimrod” from Elgar’s enigma variations. The realisation that my son is unlikely to need sacrificing in such a way and how lucky I truly am.
I’m not given to showy emotions so I suspect the watery eyes were due to a defective pollen filter.
I do care, but I don’t care if you know that I do.
I don’t feel any pressure to buy and wear a poppy here in Calgary - the only pressure is internal.
A good time to read an old thread - Coldfire’s May 5, 1945 - we shall remember.
While I’m always happy to drop the money in the donation slot and pick up my poppy, I’m not wearing the poppy to support the old vets in the Legion - I’m doing it in remembrance of the soldiers who didn’t live to become old vets.
And if you can find a copy of “Oh, What a Lovely War”, this is nominally a musical comedy set in WW1, but is actually an excellent movie about the folly of war, with a *very *moving final scene.
Count me as another Southern Californian who had never even heard of this phenomenon until I visited my cousin in London last year and asked her why all the newscasters were wearing these red/green lapel pin thingies. I like to think of myself as being fairly worldly, but I got a distinctly “Oh, you Ugly American” vibe from my cousin after that one.