This is one of my favourite posts, from three years ago. I thought it would be good to run it again for Remembrance Day this year.
11/11/11 — “Would You Like to Buy a Poppy?”
We moved to Scotland in 1995. I had tried to learn what I could about Scotland before coming here, but there were things we just didn’t know.
Sixteen years ago, in early November, someone came to our door. In our neighbourhood in Edinburgh, people didn’t come to the door very often, so this was a somewhat unusual event. I went, and opened the door, and there was an older couple (definitely retired) at the door. That was really an unusual event — if someone did come to the door, it was someone wanting to know if we needed our knives and scissors sharpened, or if we wanted a gardener to mow the lawn, or something like that. A salesman or a workman, maybe, but not an older couple.
The lady was holding a box full of what looked like red plastic poppies, and she said, “We’re selling poppies for the Poppy Appeal.” Not realising, yet, that “appeal” is basically equivalent to “charity” here in the UK, and never having heard of the Poppy Appeal, I said (rather cluelessly), “Plastic poppies?” and she said, “Yes, of course.”
I said, “Thank you, I don’t want any plastic poppies.” (I’m wondering to myself why anyone wants plastic poppies, although she really does seem like a nice lady.)
She got a rather surprised look on her face, and said, “But you helped us win the war, I hoped you would help us again.” Even more confused than ever, I said, “But I didn’t. That wasn’t me. But thank you.”
They turned away, and I closed the door. When Terri asked who it was, I answered, totally bewildered, “A nice old lady selling plastic poppies.”
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