I always remember this day. “Saint Crispin’s Day is a good day to honor lives well lived, beliefs held dear and shoes well made.”

My college roommate died on this day of MS at the young age of 41. Although she suffered from the disease from her twenties on she had a life well lived.

Here is some background on St. Crispin’s Day…

Crispin was a nobly born Roman who, along with his brother Crispinius, became a missionary to Gaul. They took up the cobbler’s trade so the faithful wouldn’t have to support them - or, depending on the version you read - so they could give shoes to the poor. Crispin and Crispinius were martyred around 256, and over the years their stomping grounds became popular shrines. St. Crispin’s Feast Day is October 25.

St. Crispin was memorialized in Shakespeare’s Henry V.

From Henry V: “St. Crispins’s Day” That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart. His passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man’s company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the feast of Crispian.

He that outlives this day and comes safe home Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day and live t’old age And say, “Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.” Then will he he strip his sleeve and show his scars And say, “These wound I had on Crispin’s day.”

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he’ll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words - Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glouster - Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. This story shall the good man teach his son,

And Cripin Crispian shall ne’er go by From this day to the ending of the world But we in it shall be remembered, We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day. –

Shakespeare, Henry V