Lest We Forget


Poppy

 

 

 

 

This morning found us enjoying a late breakfast at a very popular family-run restaurant in the small community of Tincap, just north of Brockville, Ontario.  The place was packed.  Rather than wait for a table, we sat at the counter. It was a few minutes before 11:00 when we dove into our bacon and eggs.  Some old time country music played on the radio, competing with the sounds of clanging dishes and friendly chatter, including the high pitched voices of some very young patrons.  At 10:58 the music changed to a solemn voice  speaking about the desire for world peace; then the bugle sounded and the chatter began to diminish.  When the radio went silent, so did the restaurant.  Even the young children seemed to understand.  A pin could have been dropped during the next two minutes and been heard.  I swallowed the lump in my throat.

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