Thirty four years ago my mother, as a patient at Yale New Haven Hospital, spent Memorial Day at the West Haven VA Hospital because it had state-of-the-art equipment that could determine the cause of her persistent seizures. Yale had worked out an agreement with the VA to let my mother undergo tests there.

While visiting her on Memorial Day, I noticed several silly old men, dressed in high water pants and cloth hats, darting in and out of rooms with red paper poppies in their hands. I quietly thought what was wrong with these silly old men and hoped that I would never become one of them. I was 33 and felt pretty cool.

Rushing out of the hospital to attend a barbecue, I saw one of the silly old men leaning over an older man who was lying in bed struggling for breath. The older man looked about 90, the age of a World War I era veteran. His eyes were wide open, fearful. A paper poppy laid on his chest. The silly old man gently held the older man's elbow and spoke softly to him.

I suddenly felt very small. The silly old man wasn't silly anymore.

I later learned that the men carrying the paper poppies were members of the American Legion and that the poppies were a symbol of tribute to those who died in war.

Whenever I find myself enmeshed in Memorial Day activities, I think of the men who carried the poppies 34 years ago. They understood the meaning of Memorial Day. They honored our war dead and helped the veterans who survived. In our own individual ways, we should build on their commitment to our veterans, both living and dead.

Mark Shea lives in Moodus.