Thank You

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

We tend to take the lives we lead, the things we have and especially the games we play for granted. And that's okay. That was their gift to us. And the greatest thing about giving is the joy the recipient takes in that gift. And so we should go on fretting over the meaningless trivia of our day-to-day, or the seeming insurmountable difficulties we face today that, once conquered, will be promptly forgotten tomorrow. And we should continue to take our little games far too seriously, to mock and jeer and imbue contests of sport with an importance out of all proportion to that which they actually have. That is what they would have wanted. That is why they fought. That is why they died. So that you, I and everyone else could go on enjoying their gift.

But today, on this day, as we sit in our comfortable homes, agonizing over the games we play and watch, we are reminded of them. And we should always, always, say "Thank You".