thing #21

re thing #21: attend a Veterans Day service...
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With humility, respect, love and gratitude to those among my family and friends who have served… and the millions I do not know… thank you for your service.
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In the twelve years that I've worked at the University, this is the first year that Veterans Day has been recognized as an official holiday for employees. In that spirit, I took the opportunity to attend the public service that was held at the Liberty Memorial. Dedicated by President Calvin Coolidge in 1926, the Liberty Memorial now also houses the National World War I Museum.
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Something I read stated that the site is oriented 11-degrees off true north, a reference to the signing of the armistice at 11 a.m. on November 11, 1918 - ninety years ago today. The morning was about 45 degrees, grey, and drizzly. Below is a shot of the north lawn and Union Station.

The sphinxes have always been one of my favorite parts of the Memorial... on either side is a sphinx whose face is shrouded by it's wings. Future faces to the west - looking toward the years ahead which cannot be seen. Memory faces to the east - eyes covered to protect it from seeing the horrors of war. Below... Future.

Near the base of the Memorial: In honor of those who served in the world war in defense of liberty and our country.

Inside, there were speeches, and Color Guards, the American Legion Band, and a pipe and drum band...

...and WWI Doughboys...

The Doughboys were standing on a glass bridge atop a symbolic poppy field.

The Missouri Poet Laureate, Walter Bargen, was also in attendance for a reading of In Flanders Fields.

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

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.