By Bill Bradberry
Niagara Gazette
NIAGARA FALLS —
You really have to be there to appreciate it when Doctor Rocco Larocca recites the poem, “In Flanders Fields” which was written by Canadian poet Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, a physician and medical officer in the Boer War as well as World War I.
You have to be looking at John Maroon, seeing the eyes of a former Prisoner of War when he talks about the meaning of the American flag to him and what it should mean to the rest of us.
You have to see the crisp uniforms and marching precision of the Niagara Falls Police Department, the Niagara County Sheriff’s and the Western New York Corps of Cadets 3rd Regiment, the American Legion Niagara Falls Cadille Post 1664 Honor Guards and feel the awesome music of the Bagpiper David Cudahy.
And you really need to hear the power of Victoria Spanbauer’s beautiful voice when she sings the National Anthem with such emotion that it brings tears to your eyes.
Together it all lent a striking air of importance to the Flag Day event Monday evening at Cenotaph Park at the corner of Pine Avenue and Main Street in what is left of downtown Niagara Falls, New York.
The small, but bigger than usual crowd of men women and children who took a few minutes to assemble in the grass to observe and honor the occasion seemed more than pleased to be there; they are it seems to me the core of those who value the good traditions that made America great, and as John Maroon often points out, likely our last best hope.
While I sat there glued to my seat except for the times when we all rose to salute the passing flags, I thought back to my earlier years, to a time when Flag Day would likely have been celebrated on a much larger scale.
My memory may be a bit fuzzy on the details, but as I recall, Flag Day was a pretty big deal when I was a child in the 1950s.
Of course back then, the country was just emerging from World War II and there were still a good number of World War I veterans around too.
Our reverence for the American flag was developed by the veterans who had actually fought and survived the hell of war. We were immersed in an environment where most of us had relatives, friends and neighbors who had war stories to tell, or not as was often the case; many of the men who came home never talked about it.
Our movies, toys and games were, for the most part all about the military. As boys, we prized our toy gun collections and took pride in knowing the names of the great war battles.
At school we ceremoniously raised and retired the flag every day. We stood at attention with our right hand over our heart when we recited the Pledge of Allegiance.
That was then, but by the mid 1960s, the flag had taken on a whole new meaning, often being scorned or burned as a symbol of protest in a world torn by the Vietnam War.
I noticed during the ceremony that people seemed a little confused, not knowing for sure when to stand, or when to salute. Some appeared a bit uncomfortable placing their hand over their heart, unsure if or when to remove it, or the hat they were wearing.
Perhaps a refresher course on flag protocol might be in order sometime soon, a project one or more of our Veterans groups may want to consider launching.
I was struck too by the similarity of the circumstances that led McCrae to pen his poem. Written on May 3, 1915 after he witnessed the death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, the poem makes reference to poppies, a flower that grow in particular profusion in Flanders.
Today, in Afghanistan poppies also grow in profusion, and as in Flanders, are sometimes covered with the blood of soldiers.
As McCrea wrote:
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 among 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.
Witnessing the event this year held a special meaning for me for some strange reason; I was particularly moved perhaps because the reality of the long wars in Iraq and Afghanistan is beginning to hit very close to home.
By now these wars have crept ever closer to our personal lives; we all know someone who has been touched directly or indirectly by them.
While driving through rural Canada last weekend on my way to Simcoe, I was reminded of the commitment our northern neighbors have made to the war effort, a point made even more poignantly by the words to our, and the Canadian National Anthems.
The fact that the poem, Flanders Fields was written by a Canadian who was fighting side by side with Americans and the Allied forces only makes it seem all the more relevant today.
Without sounding grim, I must agree with John Maroon’s assessment that we may very well be living in the last days of America as we once knew it; his point did not fall on deaf ears to me.
Like most of those who showed up on Flag Day, and those who were there in spirit, flags proudly waving from porches and poles across the country and around the world; we are up to the challenge to do as the mighty voice of Reverend Harvey Kelly proclaimed we must: “Let the flag stand for one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.”
Contact Bill at bill.bradberry@yahoo.com.
