I popped out this morning to grab some groceries. My Canon was at the ready. One lady walking her dog was wearing one. I crossed Bloor Street and turned onto the south side, with an older gent doing the same. I broached the subject of poppy-wearing on Remembrance Day....
"Sir. Congratulations. You're one of the very few people wearing a poppy."
"I've seen a few people wearing them . . . My father fought in the war."
"Mine did too. He flew on Lancs. He was just a teenager."
"Really."
Time keeps passing. We keep forgetting.
I could easily go into an essay here, long or short, about how the lack of poppy-wearing is an indicator of how seriously people respect the men and women who have fought, and continue to stand, for this great nation called Canada.
Hey!
Don't miss that text message!
That TicTok video cannot be missed!
Put that goddamn fucking phone down and pay attention!
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