The Poppy Princess Remembers: More than A Convertible

The Poppy Princess Remembers: More than A Convertible

Karen Prive

I was Rutland’s Poppy Princess on Memorial Day 1977.

Actually, the American Legion had chosen a young girl who competed for the position, but on the day of the parade she was ill and couldn’t participate. I was plucked from the post’s float and graduated to riding in the Poppy Princess convertible. Confused, I pointed out that I didn’t earn the honor, but I was guided in how to wave and smile throughout the parade route.

Thus, for a little while, I was the Poppy Princess.

Why do we think of poppies to represent the service members lost in battle? In 1915 Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, M.D. wrote the poem In Flanders Fields, while serving on the front lines in World War I. He spoke of the poppies growing amongst the white crosses on the battlefields, and the red flower came to represent the blood shed during war.

Memorial Day is all about honoring the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice in serving our country – and the Gold Star families they left behind.

I would argue that we have neglected a significant contingent. It is estimated we lose 22 veterans every day to suicide – nearly one every hour. These souls brought the battle back with them and their deaths have everything to do with their service. The number is staggering. Their deaths go nearly unrecognized, and their families are often forgotten.

Today, with your hamburgers and fireworks, take time to remember the fallen – whether they fell from physical wounds or later to the agony of living with the terror they had experienced. Remember their families.

In Flanders Fields

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.

~ John McCrae, 1915

3 thoughts on “The Poppy Princess Remembers: More than A Convertible

  1. Wow! So very nice of you to share in this way Karen! It’s much appreciated and

    Congrats on becoming our Poppy Princess!

  2. The suicide rate for veterans is to our ultimate shame for how we care for them after they served us. There is help available, but many can’t or won’t reach out for it. That’s so often the case for people with mental anguish. I’m so glad you continue to reach out for yourself and share with us!

    Maybe not the right place for it, but below is a response to In Flanders Field.
    Reply to “In Flanders Fields”
    by John Mitchell
    O H! SLEEP in peace where poppies grow;
    The torch your falling hands let go
    Was caught by us, again held high,
    A beacon light in Flanders sky
    That dims the stars to those below.
    You are our dead, you held the foe,
    And ere the poppies cease to blow,
    We’ll prove our faith in you who lie
    In Flanders Fields.

    Oh! rest in peace, we quickly go
    To you who bravely died, and know
    In other fields was heard the cry,
    For freedom’s cause, of you who lie,
    So still asleep where poppies grow,
    In Flanders Fields.

    As in rumbling sound, to and fro,
    The lightning flashes, sky aglow,
    The mighty hosts appear, and high
    Above the din of battle cry,
    Scarce heard amidst the guns below,
    Are fearless hearts who fight the foe,
    And guard the place where poppies grow.
    Oh! sleep in peace, all you who lie
    In Flanders Fields.

    And still the poppies gently blow,
    Between the crosses, row on row.
    The larks, still bravely soaring high,
    Are singing now their lullaby
    To you who sleep where poppies grow
    In Flanders Fields.

    1. Thank you so much for sharing the reply poem, Diane! I had not heard it. And thank you for your kind words.

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