Buddy Poppies

HOW TO OBSERVE

"........gather around their sacred remains and garland the passionless mounds above them with choicest flowers of springtime....let us in this solemn presence renew our pledges to aid and assist those whom they have left among us as sacred charges upon the Nation's gratitude,--the soldier's and sailor's widow and orphan."

General John Logan, General Order No. 11, 5 May 1868

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Dad was big on selling Buddy Poppies ever since I can remember and I'm sure, way before that. As Sam said this week, - "Memorial Day was more important than Christmas for dad." She was right.

The first order of business to begin the Memorial Day tradition was to sell poppies. He would get the okay from the local store managers, weeks in advance, to to stand outside their businesses and sell poppies. Many people didn't, but to dad, it was important to check with the authorities first. Oh there were years that he had to let another veteran know that he had already staked out that particular joint and had already checked out and secured that high traffic spot.

He would decorate his tray with signage and poppies and load up his car about 7am, heading out to the Kohl's Food stores, Triangle Drug Store, Sentry and eventually a Pick N Saves to sell. And he was good. He'd use his charm, consisting of a bright smile and twinkle in his baby blues and step up in the most non-threatening way and say "Poppy today, sir?" (or ma'am) If they declined he smiled and wished them a good day. If they bought one, he give them a heartfelt "thank you!"

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I recall one year in particular, when I was in grade school, that he let me sell poppies with him. I watched him. I saw the salesman in him. I saw how he treated people with respect. How a simple smile could open a door. And I learned. Soon I was mimicking his words, approaching people with a smile and offering a poppy. That weekend, I was just like him. And from that, I learned how to treat people. Smile. Respect. Gratitude. It felt good. Customer service skills were born. And to this day, I like to think I carry them with me.

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As he got older, age and neuropathy settling in, it was difficult for him to stand outside on many cold weekends; the strength and stamina was just not there; but he pushed himself and always sold his share of the VFW Post's poppies.

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When cleaning out all the VFW stuff in the basement this year, we happened upon his most recent Buddy Poppy tray. He had decorated it with signs asking people to remember and donate to the disabled Veterans who made them. Mom thought we should do something with that. I offered to put flowers in it and place it on his grave this year. While planting the flowers in this little Buddy Poppy tray, I realized that this was simply a plastic container that you get when you buy a flat of spring annuals or perennials at the market! Perfect. Dad always pre-planned and cut costs where he could. How did he know that it would now decorate his place of rest?

This is the first year without dad selling poppies, readying the rifles for the Memorial Day ceremony, making sure the Post Flags were in the trunk of the "gun-runner", rushing around to get the wreaths and carnations, and attending the Memorial Day Parade.

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This year, before playing Taps, and before the rifles are fired, his name will be read along with those of the the other Lamster Newman's Post's departed comrades.

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The ache will surface again.

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Miss you, dad. And...well, thank you.