Every January, lists of this and that......
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I'll try not to do it like everybody else, but I do want to highlight a few things..please.
I know I wasn't as prolific as I'd thought I might have been. And maybe I only seemed to write sad stuff, my thinking poignant. I know that it seems that people dread the Holidays because of the end of year regrets or of memories of those gone on to the next stage of their journey or of just plain depressing issues in their lives. Well, this year, the freight train that hits me about 2010 is the fact that I am going to be a great-gpa soon and I have a nephew that graduated college and a niece that found out she is going to have a child. Those alone have made this year very special indeed. I myself have made a couple decisions, one is I have applied for a position in Iraq and if not, my back-up plan is to go back to school in the new year. Got to keep moving, huh?
January showed up, new year, new decade, always full of promise. The ol rainbow chaser still hanging in, even though others were not with us.
February brought us the worst winter storm in many years. It knocked out power and made a mess for, in some places, a couple of weeks. We were able to get a generator and not get gouged on the price and even the gas station, the only one for a ways here, did not double the price of gas during the outage. And the people of this town remained courteous, no fights over gas or Twinkies or milk.
April is when my poor poor wife realized she had been tied to me for 5 years. Thanks goodness she likes me......still.
May is when I went on my first walk for Multiple Sclerosis. I went to honor a friend of mine and as usual, I got more out of it than I gave. We did raise a small amount of money for the cause and I was very proud to be a part of it.
We did lose Lt. John Finn this year. The first Medal of Honor winner in WW II. At the age of 100. Thanks again Lt. for a job well done. Also lost a good friend of many years during this years Iron Butt/Mom's Memorial Run. Take care Bill, I appreciate the fact that you were always good to me.
June brought about a change at work. A job that I had bid on over three years ago, I got. Better work, better conditions, pay. My blood pressure dropped noticeably, quickly. I also went on my first "mission" with the Patriot Guard Riders. Something that will stay with me and I will continue to do. Thanks to Dennis for pushing me, gently, toward joining them. It has made a difference in my life.
July is when I decided I'd had enough. Yet another motorcycle rider trashed in Oklahoma. This time it was a seasoned police officer. He wasn't killed, but was injured severely. Enough to retire from the force, not easy to replace. But, I got with my local state representative and in February, 2011, he will introduce the resolution I talked with him about, which is to assist drivers become more aware of motorcycles around them.
October is the month I "came out". I came out against others being thought of as less thans because of being who they are. Even those in our voluntary military, overseas giving of themselves to defend us and others. Heroes looked down on because they are different. Give me a break, standing in Hell so I don't have to and kids getting beat up at school. The time is passed for treating others poorly, because you want to.
December, ahhh at last December. Big for me in that I was able to successfully give blood. Maybe not a big deal for you, but if you know me, it was a monumental task, it took a lifetime just to get up the courage to do it. But then to survive it, you have no idea how uplifting it was. I finally did something good for someone, after 53 and 1/2 years. Topped off a pretty good year. Looking forward to 2011. Happy New Year to all and really, best wishes for a wonderful year.
P.S. I do plan on adding to this, as usual, if memory serves. Thanks for reading all this stuff, I appreciate your support.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Ted
Take time to listen.....you'll be glad you did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I saw my truck go by, so I stood up. When I did, he asked, "Is something wrong."
No I answered, I just saw my truck go into the bay that I had previously driven it into and was wondering, was it ready or were they just starting on it?
He moved over to sit beside me, so I sat back down.
One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite songs is, "all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be" so I'm really into life experiences.
He had already told me that his wife got a pacemaker in January, she had been ill in February so their son had come and insisted that she go to the emergency room. So she did, she had what they called "hospital pnneumonia". That 68 years skidded to a halt in 11 days. Damn, tough Thanksgiving.
But then, a few months earlier, his grandson....... He said that they propped him up with boards in the coffin. The only thing that didn't get crushed was his head.
Their daughter had moved in...to help. Was doing a great job, but.....she wasn't......her.
I stood up and took his hand, had it in my head to leave. They had said, "Mr. Manning, your truck is ready."
I wasn't going anywhere, Ted wanted to say something and I was going to be there for him.
Neither one of us knows anything about the word "committment". For different reasons.
He told me, "We lost more men at Omaha Beach in one day than we have during the Iraq Compaign." He teared up. We both wondered if there were enough in this country to load up those boats, knowing that the ones in the front were dead before the landing. He said they knew they were dead. Willing to sacrifice for their commrades in arms. We agreed that the soldiers we have now, no problem. But these were draftees, forced to be in that uniform. How many today would answer that call? How many would push their way to the front. To knowingly die without ever having a clue about the outcome.
He ended up as a tailgunner. Not an enviable position, laying on his belly in the rear of a B-17. His first stop after crawling in that gunner position was....Berlin. He said that the inside of that plane was well under zero F. The doors open for the other gunners. Not that there was heat, but the best place to be in that bird was in the cockpit, only because it was enclosed. They did what they had to do.
I apologized to the lady when I paid. I told her, anyone who doesn't have time to listen to a WWII vet, well.......I did and was glad I did. Fell in love with the man and I think he knew it, hope so.
Please, please, in all your doings this blessed holiday season...should you be priveledged and honored enough to have some old man have a word for you, I beg you to take a breath, look in to those knowing eyes and listen with all your heart. These people are responsible for me having the freedom to live the foolhardy life I have lived. He made it possible for me to have the kind of freedom that millions and millions of others would do anything to have. And all I did was to be lucky enough to be born here.
Thanks Ted, you are sooo much stronger than you can imagine. He thinks he is a broken man. There is nothing from Hell that could break you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I saw my truck go by, so I stood up. When I did, he asked, "Is something wrong."
No I answered, I just saw my truck go into the bay that I had previously driven it into and was wondering, was it ready or were they just starting on it?
He moved over to sit beside me, so I sat back down.
One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite songs is, "all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be" so I'm really into life experiences.
He had already told me that his wife got a pacemaker in January, she had been ill in February so their son had come and insisted that she go to the emergency room. So she did, she had what they called "hospital pnneumonia". That 68 years skidded to a halt in 11 days. Damn, tough Thanksgiving.
But then, a few months earlier, his grandson....... He said that they propped him up with boards in the coffin. The only thing that didn't get crushed was his head.
Their daughter had moved in...to help. Was doing a great job, but.....she wasn't......her.
I stood up and took his hand, had it in my head to leave. They had said, "Mr. Manning, your truck is ready."
I wasn't going anywhere, Ted wanted to say something and I was going to be there for him.
Neither one of us knows anything about the word "committment". For different reasons.
He told me, "We lost more men at Omaha Beach in one day than we have during the Iraq Compaign." He teared up. We both wondered if there were enough in this country to load up those boats, knowing that the ones in the front were dead before the landing. He said they knew they were dead. Willing to sacrifice for their commrades in arms. We agreed that the soldiers we have now, no problem. But these were draftees, forced to be in that uniform. How many today would answer that call? How many would push their way to the front. To knowingly die without ever having a clue about the outcome.
He ended up as a tailgunner. Not an enviable position, laying on his belly in the rear of a B-17. His first stop after crawling in that gunner position was....Berlin. He said that the inside of that plane was well under zero F. The doors open for the other gunners. Not that there was heat, but the best place to be in that bird was in the cockpit, only because it was enclosed. They did what they had to do.
I apologized to the lady when I paid. I told her, anyone who doesn't have time to listen to a WWII vet, well.......I did and was glad I did. Fell in love with the man and I think he knew it, hope so.
Please, please, in all your doings this blessed holiday season...should you be priveledged and honored enough to have some old man have a word for you, I beg you to take a breath, look in to those knowing eyes and listen with all your heart. These people are responsible for me having the freedom to live the foolhardy life I have lived. He made it possible for me to have the kind of freedom that millions and millions of others would do anything to have. And all I did was to be lucky enough to be born here.
Thanks Ted, you are sooo much stronger than you can imagine. He thinks he is a broken man. There is nothing from Hell that could break you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
"Maxine"
"He fought for our country, he's a part of our freedom."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they called, they said, "Show up, flags unfurled and we'll do the rest."
That's what we were told at our pre-ride meeting. The town of Wetumka, Ok just wanted us to show. And we did, I counted 60 bikes and at least that many cages.
This man, this young Okie. A co-pilot in a C-47 cargo plane had just made a drop. Much needed, desired, and appreciated supplies to our ground troops in Somewhere, New Guinea. I can see the pilot, banking a bit to give that wing wave to those happy guys scrambling toward the drop. It was a moment that they had to know was possible/probable in those days during WWII. I'm sure those rounds came up from everywhere and SSGT. Glenn Webb helped land that plane.....in history...and into our hearts.
He, as I said, was a Staff Sergeant, had his pilots license for about four months. I stood and listened to a reading of the hand written letter that his mom received from President Roosevelt. SSgt. Webb had turned 20 about 9 months before. Not bad, for a man so young.
The story is that locals went in, the next day and recovered the flight crew and buried them. When they returned, one was missing. Only after several decades had passed did the technology advance to where this man could be found and brought back to his beloved Oklahoma home.
When they asked us just to show up and help welcome him home, we did that. As we rode in, even though we were not in a procession really, just some guys riding into town, they still stopped. We were motioned through the stop signs and made the turns, en masse. No one made any attempt to break our ranks, as has happened on occasion.
This little Oklahoma town, half an hour from the interstate, was wrapping us up. When the procession DID begin, with Patriot Guard, Rolling Thunder and others mixed together, from Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Missouri, Texas and even Louisiana, well, this is the kicker. That little town, had apparently dismissed school and had obviously bought every little flag available. They were standing by the main road, rows of people from the tiny pre-k crowd up to the high school age with parents and other adults surrounding them, all waving these little American flags, many with hands over hearts. The whole town must have showed up, to show respect for a man who had died before most of them were born.
It was a beautiful sight to behold. Along with the rather large military showing, there was a native American honor guard, always a pleasure to stand with.
This was my ninth mission. They are all the same, but all very different. I couldn't allow myself to miss the homecoming of a man from the greatest generation that had been on the MIA/KIA list for 68 years. And I'm so glad I didn't miss the outpouring of appreciation and respect from the whole town.
As I've stated in the past, I take more from these than I give. And by the way, that C-47 was called "Maxine".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they called, they said, "Show up, flags unfurled and we'll do the rest."
That's what we were told at our pre-ride meeting. The town of Wetumka, Ok just wanted us to show. And we did, I counted 60 bikes and at least that many cages.
This man, this young Okie. A co-pilot in a C-47 cargo plane had just made a drop. Much needed, desired, and appreciated supplies to our ground troops in Somewhere, New Guinea. I can see the pilot, banking a bit to give that wing wave to those happy guys scrambling toward the drop. It was a moment that they had to know was possible/probable in those days during WWII. I'm sure those rounds came up from everywhere and SSGT. Glenn Webb helped land that plane.....in history...and into our hearts.
He, as I said, was a Staff Sergeant, had his pilots license for about four months. I stood and listened to a reading of the hand written letter that his mom received from President Roosevelt. SSgt. Webb had turned 20 about 9 months before. Not bad, for a man so young.
The story is that locals went in, the next day and recovered the flight crew and buried them. When they returned, one was missing. Only after several decades had passed did the technology advance to where this man could be found and brought back to his beloved Oklahoma home.
When they asked us just to show up and help welcome him home, we did that. As we rode in, even though we were not in a procession really, just some guys riding into town, they still stopped. We were motioned through the stop signs and made the turns, en masse. No one made any attempt to break our ranks, as has happened on occasion.
This little Oklahoma town, half an hour from the interstate, was wrapping us up. When the procession DID begin, with Patriot Guard, Rolling Thunder and others mixed together, from Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Missouri, Texas and even Louisiana, well, this is the kicker. That little town, had apparently dismissed school and had obviously bought every little flag available. They were standing by the main road, rows of people from the tiny pre-k crowd up to the high school age with parents and other adults surrounding them, all waving these little American flags, many with hands over hearts. The whole town must have showed up, to show respect for a man who had died before most of them were born.
It was a beautiful sight to behold. Along with the rather large military showing, there was a native American honor guard, always a pleasure to stand with.
This was my ninth mission. They are all the same, but all very different. I couldn't allow myself to miss the homecoming of a man from the greatest generation that had been on the MIA/KIA list for 68 years. And I'm so glad I didn't miss the outpouring of appreciation and respect from the whole town.
As I've stated in the past, I take more from these than I give. And by the way, that C-47 was called "Maxine".
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Coming Out
For the "Kitten".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I dearly love the offspring of my siblings. No doubt, they have been as bright a light as I've had in my life. They are all so special, they make me feel......special. There is one though, that used to curl up in my lap like a kitten and sleep. Recently that one posted a notice concerning the wearing of purple...for today...for yet another group of humans being discriminated against.
A dark tale.
I guess I was maybe fourteen. My friend down the street and I had shared much time together. We had rode bikes together. We had built model cars, he had even shown me how to carefully cut and glue felt inside the cars for carpet and upholstery. We had spent time swimming in the lake, fishing and many other things that small town kids do. We had spent the night at each others house quite a bit. I even laid on the junior high gym floor once shining a light on him while he sang a song that I hated at a talent show.
One night, at his house, we had gone to bed and were sitting up talking and he asked a question that would change us forever.
He asked me if I wanted to have sex with him.
My upbringing and the time I spent in the local church quickly built a fire in me that would be many years bringing under control. My first thought was that if two boys touched each other they would both be in the fires of Hell, suffering for all eternity, almost and surely, immediately.
I went home.
Those who know me best and longest have no idea this ever took place.
Our friendship was instantly destroyed and he became the most evil I had ever known. How dare he subject me to certain damnation. The beating he took on the school bus, well...it wouldn't surprise me at all, if it was still talked about. How two close friends and neighbors who stayed joined at the hip for so long......... It was the worst beating I ever gave anyone. Before or since. Still, he came to my house once again and once again, he got a pounding. No one that age should carry that kind of rage..........or fear.
Many years later. Maybe with moving around as much as I have in my life, I came to realize we had more in common that I thought. He was different, I've always been different. But he never held that against me. Many others have throughout my life. I have done something simple for a very long time that has created more harsh responses and feelings than you can imagine. I've worn a beard. It has been the subject of countless disagreements among those I've met along my journey. Different. I actually thrive on being different. Want to insult me? Tell me about someone I remind you of. Funny, the mantra is "Think outside the box", but never ever GET outside the box.
During the time when I was learning to be Catholic (Baptist to Catholic, different)I thought I had learned first hand, discrimination. From members of my own family as well. But there have so many other ways that I have strayed. But again, during my conversion to Catholicism, I found out that my friend had died........of AIDS. I felt no such "Well, I'm not surprised!" I found myself very upset that I had never apologized to him and tried to make things better somehow. My future priest told me that he knew, my friend knew how I felt......he was my friend.
Some might say I've grown up, come of age.........given in? I don't believe in middle age crisis. It is just that maybe I'm not so concerned with what people think of me or my beliefs.
I, over the years have had to deal with the issue being challanged...er...ah...picked on for various...er...ah... non-conformity's. Those who think they have some sort of edge on you will use it to their advantage, even if one doesn't exist. It's as if your difference makes you weak. My "weaknesses" have driven my life. Wrong, but true, but I say to all of you who have "weaknesses", I'M STILL HERE ! And many I knew before...aren't. There are many issues that I'd rather not have as the topic of conversation, but I am still here. Be strong, don't give up, out live them. Be you. Those that would treat you wrong because you are different have no idea how special it is to be different. I have much respect for those who will be as they are and stick up for themselves. That is how I came to appreciate difference. Any one who will stand up and be counted, shine your light in a dark room.
And to those who want you to believe that God will strike someone down for being different than they, tell me why people will quote John 3:16, but not John 3:17.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell that kitten, I bought and wore a purple bandanna today. I'm not sure how many had any idea why, but maybe....just maybe someone saw this old man today and was inspired....to be different.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I dearly love the offspring of my siblings. No doubt, they have been as bright a light as I've had in my life. They are all so special, they make me feel......special. There is one though, that used to curl up in my lap like a kitten and sleep. Recently that one posted a notice concerning the wearing of purple...for today...for yet another group of humans being discriminated against.
A dark tale.
I guess I was maybe fourteen. My friend down the street and I had shared much time together. We had rode bikes together. We had built model cars, he had even shown me how to carefully cut and glue felt inside the cars for carpet and upholstery. We had spent time swimming in the lake, fishing and many other things that small town kids do. We had spent the night at each others house quite a bit. I even laid on the junior high gym floor once shining a light on him while he sang a song that I hated at a talent show.
One night, at his house, we had gone to bed and were sitting up talking and he asked a question that would change us forever.
He asked me if I wanted to have sex with him.
My upbringing and the time I spent in the local church quickly built a fire in me that would be many years bringing under control. My first thought was that if two boys touched each other they would both be in the fires of Hell, suffering for all eternity, almost and surely, immediately.
I went home.
Those who know me best and longest have no idea this ever took place.
Our friendship was instantly destroyed and he became the most evil I had ever known. How dare he subject me to certain damnation. The beating he took on the school bus, well...it wouldn't surprise me at all, if it was still talked about. How two close friends and neighbors who stayed joined at the hip for so long......... It was the worst beating I ever gave anyone. Before or since. Still, he came to my house once again and once again, he got a pounding. No one that age should carry that kind of rage..........or fear.
Many years later. Maybe with moving around as much as I have in my life, I came to realize we had more in common that I thought. He was different, I've always been different. But he never held that against me. Many others have throughout my life. I have done something simple for a very long time that has created more harsh responses and feelings than you can imagine. I've worn a beard. It has been the subject of countless disagreements among those I've met along my journey. Different. I actually thrive on being different. Want to insult me? Tell me about someone I remind you of. Funny, the mantra is "Think outside the box", but never ever GET outside the box.
During the time when I was learning to be Catholic (Baptist to Catholic, different)I thought I had learned first hand, discrimination. From members of my own family as well. But there have so many other ways that I have strayed. But again, during my conversion to Catholicism, I found out that my friend had died........of AIDS. I felt no such "Well, I'm not surprised!" I found myself very upset that I had never apologized to him and tried to make things better somehow. My future priest told me that he knew, my friend knew how I felt......he was my friend.
Some might say I've grown up, come of age.........given in? I don't believe in middle age crisis. It is just that maybe I'm not so concerned with what people think of me or my beliefs.
I, over the years have had to deal with the issue being challanged...er...ah...picked on for various...er...ah... non-conformity's. Those who think they have some sort of edge on you will use it to their advantage, even if one doesn't exist. It's as if your difference makes you weak. My "weaknesses" have driven my life. Wrong, but true, but I say to all of you who have "weaknesses", I'M STILL HERE ! And many I knew before...aren't. There are many issues that I'd rather not have as the topic of conversation, but I am still here. Be strong, don't give up, out live them. Be you. Those that would treat you wrong because you are different have no idea how special it is to be different. I have much respect for those who will be as they are and stick up for themselves. That is how I came to appreciate difference. Any one who will stand up and be counted, shine your light in a dark room.
And to those who want you to believe that God will strike someone down for being different than they, tell me why people will quote John 3:16, but not John 3:17.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell that kitten, I bought and wore a purple bandanna today. I'm not sure how many had any idea why, but maybe....just maybe someone saw this old man today and was inspired....to be different.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Told myself I wasn't gonna do it......
If you know me, you know I've said that before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First, let me say that I truly appreciate the Ray of Hope Baptist Church in Commanche, Oklahoma. I'm thinking that you just may be, at that.
I also wish to thank the Oklahoma Highway Patrol and the City of Duncan Police Department, Stephens County Sheriff's Department, City of Lawton Police Department, Commanche County Sheriff's Department and the City of Elgin Police Department. Without you folks, our ride would be much less safe.
And of course, thank you SSGT. Vinson Bryon "Trinity" Adkinson III, for your sacrifice to keep us safe.
I went to a funeral today and I was expecting Fred and/or his associates. I was there, you were not. I wish to let you in on what you missed. I will help you to enhance your vocabulary with a few words I added to mine.
Shortly after arriving, I was greeted by more of the Patriot Guard Riders of which I ride with on every chance I get. Some of them grumbled about the possibility of Fred and/or his minions showing up and to them I responded, I want them to show, it would be an honor to the man and his family inside for them to take time out of their busy day and to come all the way down here to prove what we already knew, that this man is of great value. I felt this way after spending too much time looking at a website and letting my blood boil for too long and finally allowing the truth of the matter sink in. I know you Fred. I'm thinking the day, your son mentioned in that interview, when you changed, may coincide with the day someone just like you passed away. Another that never missed a nanosecond of sleep worrying about someone elses feeeeellllllings His spirit entered your body, yes....I know you well.
I heard of a story years ago that certain Native American tribes thought that the strength of their tribe was measured by the strength of their enemies. Well this man had stood up to his enemies, much greater than Fred, without fear. This man had shown his tribe to be very strong indeed. He was a Staff Sargent in the Army. Sure, he could've said to his men, "go!", but not him, he held up his head and stuck out his chest and said "follow me!". For this he made the ultimate sacrifice. He did not lose his life quivering in fear behind the couch as Fred or myself may have done. And Fred, this is the first word we learned today, COURAGE. A word that I'm afraid that won't likely be used when describing us.
This morning I was given the opportunity to stand with my flag at the end of the trailer carrying the Texas Liberty Bell. At one point a nice lady walked up to me and put something in my hand. She never said a word, just placed an item in my hand and walked away. I never looked at it, but thanked her and stood there until I was relieved. It was ear plugs, to protect my hearing. I had been standing there in close proximity to that huge bell, close enough not only to hear it, but to feel the power. I didn't use the plugs.
The man who rings the bell told us, "This bell tolls for a final time, 7 times, to show this man did not die early, he completed his mission."
After the service, we mounted up and rode right through Duncan to the "Y", then on towards Lawton. Passing many, many well wishers, through the obligatory rain shower, back in to the warm sun. Then on to the Fort Sill National Cemetery where we will release this son, who shined in the darkness, to his reward.
Once there, I again took a position beside the bell, flag in hand. As again it tolled, I was again handed hearing protection that I once again, did not use. I told the man later, "I'd rather go deaf than to block that sound."
This soldier's brother in arms, told of their time together, in war, during quiet times and said of his fallen brother, " I can describe my hero in one word....HONOR." Fred, that is another one neither you nor I may hear used in the elugy describing us on our last day.
Fred, you should've been there. Maybe if your god of hate would've given you two ears for hearing, you would've heard those words and the whine of the bagpipes, the 21 gun salute, the soloemn TAPS being played. You may have seen the flawless Army Honor Guard, fold that flag, slowly, precisely. DIGNIFIED, Fred, there is another word for our vocabulary. Something, yet again that we might not be accused of.
And lastly, Fred, maybe if you'd try it, come and see, come and hear. Close your mouth and watch.
Maybe then you'd see, when that flag is passed from hand to hand until it reaches that bereaved loved one, when that gloved, sharply uniformed soldier stands at attention and delivers that painfully slow salute to a greiving family, then, maybe then you'll realize and learn two more words from this lesson today, two words that come from OUR loving, forgiving God
........REVERENCE AND LOVE.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First, let me say that I truly appreciate the Ray of Hope Baptist Church in Commanche, Oklahoma. I'm thinking that you just may be, at that.
I also wish to thank the Oklahoma Highway Patrol and the City of Duncan Police Department, Stephens County Sheriff's Department, City of Lawton Police Department, Commanche County Sheriff's Department and the City of Elgin Police Department. Without you folks, our ride would be much less safe.
And of course, thank you SSGT. Vinson Bryon "Trinity" Adkinson III, for your sacrifice to keep us safe.
I went to a funeral today and I was expecting Fred and/or his associates. I was there, you were not. I wish to let you in on what you missed. I will help you to enhance your vocabulary with a few words I added to mine.
Shortly after arriving, I was greeted by more of the Patriot Guard Riders of which I ride with on every chance I get. Some of them grumbled about the possibility of Fred and/or his minions showing up and to them I responded, I want them to show, it would be an honor to the man and his family inside for them to take time out of their busy day and to come all the way down here to prove what we already knew, that this man is of great value. I felt this way after spending too much time looking at a website and letting my blood boil for too long and finally allowing the truth of the matter sink in. I know you Fred. I'm thinking the day, your son mentioned in that interview, when you changed, may coincide with the day someone just like you passed away. Another that never missed a nanosecond of sleep worrying about someone elses feeeeellllllings His spirit entered your body, yes....I know you well.
I heard of a story years ago that certain Native American tribes thought that the strength of their tribe was measured by the strength of their enemies. Well this man had stood up to his enemies, much greater than Fred, without fear. This man had shown his tribe to be very strong indeed. He was a Staff Sargent in the Army. Sure, he could've said to his men, "go!", but not him, he held up his head and stuck out his chest and said "follow me!". For this he made the ultimate sacrifice. He did not lose his life quivering in fear behind the couch as Fred or myself may have done. And Fred, this is the first word we learned today, COURAGE. A word that I'm afraid that won't likely be used when describing us.
This morning I was given the opportunity to stand with my flag at the end of the trailer carrying the Texas Liberty Bell. At one point a nice lady walked up to me and put something in my hand. She never said a word, just placed an item in my hand and walked away. I never looked at it, but thanked her and stood there until I was relieved. It was ear plugs, to protect my hearing. I had been standing there in close proximity to that huge bell, close enough not only to hear it, but to feel the power. I didn't use the plugs.
The man who rings the bell told us, "This bell tolls for a final time, 7 times, to show this man did not die early, he completed his mission."
After the service, we mounted up and rode right through Duncan to the "Y", then on towards Lawton. Passing many, many well wishers, through the obligatory rain shower, back in to the warm sun. Then on to the Fort Sill National Cemetery where we will release this son, who shined in the darkness, to his reward.
Once there, I again took a position beside the bell, flag in hand. As again it tolled, I was again handed hearing protection that I once again, did not use. I told the man later, "I'd rather go deaf than to block that sound."
This soldier's brother in arms, told of their time together, in war, during quiet times and said of his fallen brother, " I can describe my hero in one word....HONOR." Fred, that is another one neither you nor I may hear used in the elugy describing us on our last day.
Fred, you should've been there. Maybe if your god of hate would've given you two ears for hearing, you would've heard those words and the whine of the bagpipes, the 21 gun salute, the soloemn TAPS being played. You may have seen the flawless Army Honor Guard, fold that flag, slowly, precisely. DIGNIFIED, Fred, there is another word for our vocabulary. Something, yet again that we might not be accused of.
And lastly, Fred, maybe if you'd try it, come and see, come and hear. Close your mouth and watch.
Maybe then you'd see, when that flag is passed from hand to hand until it reaches that bereaved loved one, when that gloved, sharply uniformed soldier stands at attention and delivers that painfully slow salute to a greiving family, then, maybe then you'll realize and learn two more words from this lesson today, two words that come from OUR loving, forgiving God
........REVERENCE AND LOVE.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Why? Indeed.
Shame on me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I rode down there with a heart still hardened from last night. Should never let that happen, never let someone else dictate how you feel.
We stood the flagline, lining both sides of the street and even up on the wide walkway leading into the church. Had to be over 50 flags flying as the family rode by and entered.
After all were inside we went across the road to get our ride briefing. At the end, we were heard the names of the new riders and the blue star and gold star parents that were with us. Before we broke up, we were asked "Why are you here? Think about it."
For a change, I was one of the ones that rode ahead to the cemetery to set up and prepare for the arrival of our hero and the rest. As we stood there, we all decided to take shelter from the sun under the canopy of the cedars that lined the roadway. To the west of the cemetery running alongside the street is a fence and across the street is another part of the cemetery. We noticed that they too were set up to honor a soldier. We were cooling off, drinking water, talking in small groups, some lying on the grass, others sitting rather unceremoniously on headstones. The hearse came in and their hero was was brought about. While their ceremony ensued, we ended up, as a unit, standing, watching intently, reverently. By the time the 21 gun salute went off and Taps was played, we were all standing at attention, hand salute or hand over heart from across the road. Why?
We lined up with the flags again, along the entrance, maybe the length of a football field. Our hero with family, friends and others concerned moved in front of us down to his final resting place. Once they were there, we surrounded them with a huge circle of flags.
This young man. He wasn't the type to whine about the things in his life that weren't how he wanted them. How life owed him this and that. He was all about life and the future. He had enlisted in the Army less than a year ago. Enthusiastic about learning and going to school and raising his year old son, Isaiah.
I strained to hear the list of his accomplishments. He had completed over 100 route clearance missions since January 23rd of this year. Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Good Conduct Medal and many more. Not bad. I'm sure he never thought much about todays activities, sounds to me like he was busy not doing things for glory and honor, but in order to keep others from having to do them.
Last Saturday, while engaged in yet another road clearance mission, an ememy ambush attacked the rear of the vehicle, where SPC Alexis Vicente Maldonado was a gunner. He was one month and four days past his 20th birthday.
I stood there looking at the white hair under the VFW cap, the long grey ponytail and whiskers of the VietNam vet, the crisp uniform and fresh faces of our volunteer military. This man wasn't just a son to Alicia and Jesse, he was a son to all of us.
The sweet Texas summer sprinkle started, it was cooling and would mask the tears. It would also soften the ground where this young man, full of life and promise would be laid to rest. When the bottom fell out, we all stood there and maybe I'm crazy, but I would swear that the spirit of that kid exploded out and he was pointing at us and laughing and shouting "I'm free, I'm home! Thank you all and now maybe you should be on your way."
Why would someone burn a day of vacation, ride for an hour and a half, to attend a funeral for someone they didn't even know?
Why? Indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I rode down there with a heart still hardened from last night. Should never let that happen, never let someone else dictate how you feel.
We stood the flagline, lining both sides of the street and even up on the wide walkway leading into the church. Had to be over 50 flags flying as the family rode by and entered.
After all were inside we went across the road to get our ride briefing. At the end, we were heard the names of the new riders and the blue star and gold star parents that were with us. Before we broke up, we were asked "Why are you here? Think about it."
For a change, I was one of the ones that rode ahead to the cemetery to set up and prepare for the arrival of our hero and the rest. As we stood there, we all decided to take shelter from the sun under the canopy of the cedars that lined the roadway. To the west of the cemetery running alongside the street is a fence and across the street is another part of the cemetery. We noticed that they too were set up to honor a soldier. We were cooling off, drinking water, talking in small groups, some lying on the grass, others sitting rather unceremoniously on headstones. The hearse came in and their hero was was brought about. While their ceremony ensued, we ended up, as a unit, standing, watching intently, reverently. By the time the 21 gun salute went off and Taps was played, we were all standing at attention, hand salute or hand over heart from across the road. Why?
We lined up with the flags again, along the entrance, maybe the length of a football field. Our hero with family, friends and others concerned moved in front of us down to his final resting place. Once they were there, we surrounded them with a huge circle of flags.
This young man. He wasn't the type to whine about the things in his life that weren't how he wanted them. How life owed him this and that. He was all about life and the future. He had enlisted in the Army less than a year ago. Enthusiastic about learning and going to school and raising his year old son, Isaiah.
I strained to hear the list of his accomplishments. He had completed over 100 route clearance missions since January 23rd of this year. Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Good Conduct Medal and many more. Not bad. I'm sure he never thought much about todays activities, sounds to me like he was busy not doing things for glory and honor, but in order to keep others from having to do them.
Last Saturday, while engaged in yet another road clearance mission, an ememy ambush attacked the rear of the vehicle, where SPC Alexis Vicente Maldonado was a gunner. He was one month and four days past his 20th birthday.
I stood there looking at the white hair under the VFW cap, the long grey ponytail and whiskers of the VietNam vet, the crisp uniform and fresh faces of our volunteer military. This man wasn't just a son to Alicia and Jesse, he was a son to all of us.
The sweet Texas summer sprinkle started, it was cooling and would mask the tears. It would also soften the ground where this young man, full of life and promise would be laid to rest. When the bottom fell out, we all stood there and maybe I'm crazy, but I would swear that the spirit of that kid exploded out and he was pointing at us and laughing and shouting "I'm free, I'm home! Thank you all and now maybe you should be on your way."
Why would someone burn a day of vacation, ride for an hour and a half, to attend a funeral for someone they didn't even know?
Why? Indeed.
Monday, August 23, 2010
A Part of History
Seems like everone was talking about the day making history.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When that Cobra came over the hill, it was plowing up the ground and those quad .50's were giving anything in their path worse than a bad day. His brothers on the ground were very happy to see him, but one young man took as careful aim as his elevated heart rate and respiration would allow and brought that perveyor of death to the ground in an awful crash of metal against earth. It was the day after Chief Warrant Officer Donald L. Wann turned 34. Then........for a reason only another soldier would understand..........he came back the next day. Found the man he had taken the life of....and laid him in a mortar crater. Soldier to soldier, something you and I could never comprehend. Thats the reason I've never been foolish enough to ask "Did you kill anyone in the war?" These men were doing what they were told to do. For the North Vietnamese it was "protect and defend" for the American soldier it was........"protect and defend". All for what could be considered a mere stipend and maybe a bag of rice or a small cardboard box with a few tins and maybe a foil pack.
Our hero was a volunteer before there was a volunteer army. While others were heading for Canada escaping the government telling them "lets go', he was pulling on his boots and saying "lets go." He had already served 11 years in the Navy. He was on his second tour of VietNam. 37 yrs later, the very man who had ended his days returned once again, with others to show where the young man fell, and they brought him home.
I was one of those proud and happy to be there. I was somewhere in the middle of the 500 or so motorcycles chasing the pine box through the streets of Muskogee, Oklahoma heading toward their "garden of stone". Passing through the throngs of people standing along side the road saluting and waving flags. Past the little blond girl, in her tiny left hand, an American flag...her little right hand held across her heart. The high school age African American boy, standing on his porch at attention, saluting as we rode by. The grey haired man, in his overalls, straw hat at his side also at attention, also saluting. All through town,the serpentine line was met with more and more, like the folks from the real estate office, standing with their hands over their hearts and the guys from the tire store and others. All lined up in the hot Oklahoma summer sun to pay their respects to one of their own.
Inside the National Cemetery, CWO Wann was transferred to a horse drawn caisson where he was carried to a pavilion. There as we gathered as close as we could, leaving room for the family and his brothers from 'Nam, we heard an invocation. The drums and bagpipes played Amazing Grace. There was the chilling moment when the flag was presented to Mr. Wann's daughter, followed by the 21 gun salute. The mournful call of Taps. Once the young man was loaded back on the caisson, we walked....to the sound of the horse's hooves, the haunting, but somewhat comforting toll of the Texas Liberty Bell all leading up the hill. And the flyover of the Blackhawks, missing man formation. The dozen or so brothers in arms at attention, saluting while a young Navy Color Guard member softly sang America the Beautiful as Chief Warrant Officer Donald L. Wann was lowered slowly into the soft Oklahoma red dirt of his youth. Releasing his soul to wander forever across the endless fields in the hot summer sun and to sit and cool his feet in the tree draped streams.
Rest easy soldier and ............welcome home.
There are still over 1500 soldiers listed as MIA from the VietNam War.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When that Cobra came over the hill, it was plowing up the ground and those quad .50's were giving anything in their path worse than a bad day. His brothers on the ground were very happy to see him, but one young man took as careful aim as his elevated heart rate and respiration would allow and brought that perveyor of death to the ground in an awful crash of metal against earth. It was the day after Chief Warrant Officer Donald L. Wann turned 34. Then........for a reason only another soldier would understand..........he came back the next day. Found the man he had taken the life of....and laid him in a mortar crater. Soldier to soldier, something you and I could never comprehend. Thats the reason I've never been foolish enough to ask "Did you kill anyone in the war?" These men were doing what they were told to do. For the North Vietnamese it was "protect and defend" for the American soldier it was........"protect and defend". All for what could be considered a mere stipend and maybe a bag of rice or a small cardboard box with a few tins and maybe a foil pack.
Our hero was a volunteer before there was a volunteer army. While others were heading for Canada escaping the government telling them "lets go', he was pulling on his boots and saying "lets go." He had already served 11 years in the Navy. He was on his second tour of VietNam. 37 yrs later, the very man who had ended his days returned once again, with others to show where the young man fell, and they brought him home.
I was one of those proud and happy to be there. I was somewhere in the middle of the 500 or so motorcycles chasing the pine box through the streets of Muskogee, Oklahoma heading toward their "garden of stone". Passing through the throngs of people standing along side the road saluting and waving flags. Past the little blond girl, in her tiny left hand, an American flag...her little right hand held across her heart. The high school age African American boy, standing on his porch at attention, saluting as we rode by. The grey haired man, in his overalls, straw hat at his side also at attention, also saluting. All through town,the serpentine line was met with more and more, like the folks from the real estate office, standing with their hands over their hearts and the guys from the tire store and others. All lined up in the hot Oklahoma summer sun to pay their respects to one of their own.
Inside the National Cemetery, CWO Wann was transferred to a horse drawn caisson where he was carried to a pavilion. There as we gathered as close as we could, leaving room for the family and his brothers from 'Nam, we heard an invocation. The drums and bagpipes played Amazing Grace. There was the chilling moment when the flag was presented to Mr. Wann's daughter, followed by the 21 gun salute. The mournful call of Taps. Once the young man was loaded back on the caisson, we walked....to the sound of the horse's hooves, the haunting, but somewhat comforting toll of the Texas Liberty Bell all leading up the hill. And the flyover of the Blackhawks, missing man formation. The dozen or so brothers in arms at attention, saluting while a young Navy Color Guard member softly sang America the Beautiful as Chief Warrant Officer Donald L. Wann was lowered slowly into the soft Oklahoma red dirt of his youth. Releasing his soul to wander forever across the endless fields in the hot summer sun and to sit and cool his feet in the tree draped streams.
Rest easy soldier and ............welcome home.
There are still over 1500 soldiers listed as MIA from the VietNam War.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Coolest guy I ever knew.
Yea, broke the mold on this one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All my life he told me, "I think it's great, the whole country celebrates my birthday". I don't guess I really knew until the day I was honored to help carry him to his final resting place that he, once again, had spun a yarn.
You realize that he called me Jerry all my life.
He taught me to always keep a coffee can in the garage. You figure it out.
He said ALL women need love, every one of them. Seems he did his best. haha
The day he left I noticed a bus from the senior center (at 90, he won the Valentine's Day dance there)pulling up. The main thing I noticed was that it was full of women, that's all that got off that bus. I smiled to myself and said "Pops, no doubt, YOU are the man". Told me he outlived 2 wives and 3 girlfriends. I suspect he had more girlfriends than that.
One story I will never forget. For his 90th birthday, we took him to J.C. Penny at the mall to have some pictures taken. We are there and in walks a too tall, too blonde, too friendly camera person. She just had a fit over the old man. He was handsome, he was sweet, he was this he was that. I warned her. Hey, lady, you tell him what to do and he'll do it. Sit like this or that, hat on or off, smile now, whatever, but LEAVE him alone. Don't pick at him or flirt with him. She didn't listen. When the session was over, we stood up to leave and she made her final, foolish mistake. She walks over and bends down (doubt Pop's was much over 5 feet tall) and tells him what a pleasure it has been for her to take his picture today. That's when he struck, OMG, he reached up and put his little hands on the sides of her face and kissed her smack on the mouth! I thought I would wet my pants. I still remember that little grin of his and that look on her face. Priceless! I told her, "hey, I warned you".
He loved hugs, short man like that......loved to hug tall women best, I'm betting.
He told me that years ago he asked Miss Addie if he could take her widowed sister on a date. She said no, because he had to show her something. Well, he leaves the mountains and goes down to the Bell Bomber Plant and gets a job. Then goes over, not far from there and buys a house. Once he had done that, he went back to see if he could have that date now and she said yes. That was the beginning of a too short story. He took her and my mom to that house and he managed to stay for many many years. Right up to just shortly before he left this life. He had an apple tree in the back yard that had several different types of apples on it. He had a touch for growing things. Always had a garden. I was walking around the house with him one day and he hopped up and kicked both feet at the same time, kicked himself in the backside. He told me that as long as he could still kick himself in the butt, he'd be fine. He was in his 70's at the time.
He had this song he sang to kids. If you had a fussy child, if you could get it into his lap and he started singing that song, that kid had no chance. In minutes, he or she was asleep. Not really a song, just soft sounds. Wish I had that. I told my mother one time that I wanted to be like him, just a nice old man. It doesn't work that way. It's not something you can become, you either are or ..........not. It wasn't just women, everybody loved him, because he loved everybody. How else could he have married my grandmother? Somehow.......they just fit. Saw him walk through the kitchen, both of them in their 70's. As he walked by her, he patted her bottom. She kinda made a fuss, but not really.
He used to walk to that senior center. Put on his suit and tie, fedora and walk out in that hot, humid Georgia summer, down a good ways to hang out. I'm not sure how far it was, but most people way under 90 wouldn't have done it, especially in that heat.
He was a piece of work, that one. He used to make things out of wood. He made little rocking chairs and we had a table made out of tree branches. He had a lathe in the garage he was always messing with. He could do cane weaving, man, I have wished many times that I would have paid more attention to him and spent way more time with him. He really knew alot. I watched a movie where an old man told his son, "Sometimes I think God forgot about me". Then he remembered. Well, he remembered my Pops too. I couldn't even desire to have one more day with him. It was time and he was ready. It doesn't stop me from missing him though. Well, happy belated birthday, you ol' story teller, and happy 4th to everyone else. And by the way, it was July 1st, 1904 not, well you know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All my life he told me, "I think it's great, the whole country celebrates my birthday". I don't guess I really knew until the day I was honored to help carry him to his final resting place that he, once again, had spun a yarn.
You realize that he called me Jerry all my life.
He taught me to always keep a coffee can in the garage. You figure it out.
He said ALL women need love, every one of them. Seems he did his best. haha
The day he left I noticed a bus from the senior center (at 90, he won the Valentine's Day dance there)pulling up. The main thing I noticed was that it was full of women, that's all that got off that bus. I smiled to myself and said "Pops, no doubt, YOU are the man". Told me he outlived 2 wives and 3 girlfriends. I suspect he had more girlfriends than that.
One story I will never forget. For his 90th birthday, we took him to J.C. Penny at the mall to have some pictures taken. We are there and in walks a too tall, too blonde, too friendly camera person. She just had a fit over the old man. He was handsome, he was sweet, he was this he was that. I warned her. Hey, lady, you tell him what to do and he'll do it. Sit like this or that, hat on or off, smile now, whatever, but LEAVE him alone. Don't pick at him or flirt with him. She didn't listen. When the session was over, we stood up to leave and she made her final, foolish mistake. She walks over and bends down (doubt Pop's was much over 5 feet tall) and tells him what a pleasure it has been for her to take his picture today. That's when he struck, OMG, he reached up and put his little hands on the sides of her face and kissed her smack on the mouth! I thought I would wet my pants. I still remember that little grin of his and that look on her face. Priceless! I told her, "hey, I warned you".
He loved hugs, short man like that......loved to hug tall women best, I'm betting.
He told me that years ago he asked Miss Addie if he could take her widowed sister on a date. She said no, because he had to show her something. Well, he leaves the mountains and goes down to the Bell Bomber Plant and gets a job. Then goes over, not far from there and buys a house. Once he had done that, he went back to see if he could have that date now and she said yes. That was the beginning of a too short story. He took her and my mom to that house and he managed to stay for many many years. Right up to just shortly before he left this life. He had an apple tree in the back yard that had several different types of apples on it. He had a touch for growing things. Always had a garden. I was walking around the house with him one day and he hopped up and kicked both feet at the same time, kicked himself in the backside. He told me that as long as he could still kick himself in the butt, he'd be fine. He was in his 70's at the time.
He had this song he sang to kids. If you had a fussy child, if you could get it into his lap and he started singing that song, that kid had no chance. In minutes, he or she was asleep. Not really a song, just soft sounds. Wish I had that. I told my mother one time that I wanted to be like him, just a nice old man. It doesn't work that way. It's not something you can become, you either are or ..........not. It wasn't just women, everybody loved him, because he loved everybody. How else could he have married my grandmother? Somehow.......they just fit. Saw him walk through the kitchen, both of them in their 70's. As he walked by her, he patted her bottom. She kinda made a fuss, but not really.
He used to walk to that senior center. Put on his suit and tie, fedora and walk out in that hot, humid Georgia summer, down a good ways to hang out. I'm not sure how far it was, but most people way under 90 wouldn't have done it, especially in that heat.
He was a piece of work, that one. He used to make things out of wood. He made little rocking chairs and we had a table made out of tree branches. He had a lathe in the garage he was always messing with. He could do cane weaving, man, I have wished many times that I would have paid more attention to him and spent way more time with him. He really knew alot. I watched a movie where an old man told his son, "Sometimes I think God forgot about me". Then he remembered. Well, he remembered my Pops too. I couldn't even desire to have one more day with him. It was time and he was ready. It doesn't stop me from missing him though. Well, happy belated birthday, you ol' story teller, and happy 4th to everyone else. And by the way, it was July 1st, 1904 not, well you know.
Letter to the good senator from Oklahoma
I'm hoping that you will read this and maybe help me get involved.
Thanks,
Gary
Mr. Dorman,
I am Gary Manning, I live in Rush Springs and have since 2004. Today I talked to a woman in Lawton about her husband, John Foster, who is the Lawton motorcycle police officer who was severely injured in an accident when a car pulled out in front of his motorcycle. Also, recently, two people were killed just outside of Rush Springs when someone made a left turn in front of them while they were riding on a motorcycle.
My thought is this. With the ever increasing occurrences' of this nature, I have come to the realization that it is past time to do something. I believe that there should be a motorcycle awareness course that anyone involved in that type of accident should be required to attend. The cost should be paid by the offender with a time limit given with perhaps a temporary loss of the state driver's license if the course isn't taken. I'm thinking to involve the state motorcycle organizations in the preparation and implementation of the of the course. It could be taken at the regular state highway patrol locations. It also might be a good idea to require young drivers to complete the course as part of the regular licensing procedure. New riders may be required to take some sort of defensive driving course as well, before receiving a motorcycle license.
Sir, we must do something about this problem. With mounting fuel prices and the practicality and affordability of riding a motorcycle, their usage will continue to increase, as will the necessity of education for all drivers to prevent this all too common event from occurring.
I will also state that I am against helmet laws for the simple reason that people tend to feel "bullet-proof" while wearing them. I am a long-time rider and have taken several defensive driving courses that have kept me, so far, so good. When I wear my helmet, I also wear other protection, like glasses or goggles, leather and gloves. This is for protection from debris and weather changes or extremes. When you are struck by a moving vehicle, there is very little that your protection can do for you. Education is out best defense.
Thank you very much for your time and consideration,
Gary D. Manning
Thanks,
Gary
Mr. Dorman,
I am Gary Manning, I live in Rush Springs and have since 2004. Today I talked to a woman in Lawton about her husband, John Foster, who is the Lawton motorcycle police officer who was severely injured in an accident when a car pulled out in front of his motorcycle. Also, recently, two people were killed just outside of Rush Springs when someone made a left turn in front of them while they were riding on a motorcycle.
My thought is this. With the ever increasing occurrences' of this nature, I have come to the realization that it is past time to do something. I believe that there should be a motorcycle awareness course that anyone involved in that type of accident should be required to attend. The cost should be paid by the offender with a time limit given with perhaps a temporary loss of the state driver's license if the course isn't taken. I'm thinking to involve the state motorcycle organizations in the preparation and implementation of the of the course. It could be taken at the regular state highway patrol locations. It also might be a good idea to require young drivers to complete the course as part of the regular licensing procedure. New riders may be required to take some sort of defensive driving course as well, before receiving a motorcycle license.
Sir, we must do something about this problem. With mounting fuel prices and the practicality and affordability of riding a motorcycle, their usage will continue to increase, as will the necessity of education for all drivers to prevent this all too common event from occurring.
I will also state that I am against helmet laws for the simple reason that people tend to feel "bullet-proof" while wearing them. I am a long-time rider and have taken several defensive driving courses that have kept me, so far, so good. When I wear my helmet, I also wear other protection, like glasses or goggles, leather and gloves. This is for protection from debris and weather changes or extremes. When you are struck by a moving vehicle, there is very little that your protection can do for you. Education is out best defense.
Thank you very much for your time and consideration,
Gary D. Manning
Friday, June 18, 2010
2nd Shot
I was just laying here in this hay wagon thinking. Well, Tommy Wilson, his daddy's place backs up to ours, told me that this year my teacher would be askin me to write down what I did for summer. He's a grade older than me and I guess he knows. I'm here cuz mama said this year I could go huntin'. Daddy said I should stay in the wagon with my .22 in case something came around and spooked the horse. Anyway, I was thinking, what can I write that anybody wants to hear. I did get that new .22 for my birthday this year, but who don't have one of those? And I did get to come this time, even though mama wasn't happy 'bout it. But here I am, laying here looking at the stars through the pine trees. It is a hot night and the air is thick. I hear Mr. Wilson make that sound, granpa said it is called a "rebel yell". He said it scared the pants off them yankee soldiers, but mama said it must not of scared them hardly enough. Them dogs sure answered him though. Granpa said his daddy was in a war where folks was fighting cuz some had blacks working for them for free and some folks didn't want that. Didn't make much sense to me and mama said it didn't make no sense to her neither. Travis was with them too. He finally came home from a war, somewhere called "ovasees". He talked 'bout it sometimes and said things I didn't understand. I asked why a boy would cry and daddy said to mind my own buisness and mama said it was ok and not to worry 'bout it. Mama cried when he left and cried when he came back. Dang, mama cried when my sister June left too. Daddy told her if she was gonna have a baby by that useless Delmar Howard, she could leave and never come back. I missed her, been gone a year or more. How was she gonna have a baby when they wasn't married anyway. James wuz huntin' too. When Tim died, daddy said he didn't have to go to school no more cuz he needed him to help at home. Those Wilson boys wuz there. Mama didn't like them though. She said that he raised way too much corn for them to use and said he musta been making whiskey. They didn't go to church and Tommy hardly ever came to school. Tommy did take me down to a still once and we tried some of that stuff. I never could see how someone would pay to have some of that to drink. We didn't have much money, daddy said we had enough, but we didn't go to a store for much anyway. Well, about all I did this summer was go to the stock pond and swim to cool off. Me and James went some and once I saw him kiss Tommy's sister and she ran off. Why he did that I won't ever know. That is some things I don't ever want to do. I'm glad I don't have to be a mama cuz they cry too much. And I don't ever want to go ovasees, cuz it made Travis act funny and I never want to kiss a girl cuz she ran off and it didn't look like fun anyhow. But I did get to come huntin this time even if I had to stay in the wagon while them dogs of Mr. Wilsons ran through the woods and hollered and everybody chased them around all night. But I still don't know what to write about.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
"Adventure Bob's" last ride.
They say you never forget your first time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've been told, everybody dies, but not everybody lives.
He earned his silver dolphins back in the early '50's. After serving in the Korean Conflict he went to college. He graduated in 1959 with a degree in petroleum and natural gas engineering. In 1975, he started Natural Gas Operations Co., dealing with local, independent natural gas producers.
At the age of 68, his love of motorcycles led him to start Adventure Motorsports. His knowledge of history helped him to lead several motorcycle expeditions across the old west. He explored the Oregon Trail from Missouri to Oregon. His travels included the Lewis and Clark Trail, some old stagecoach routes and the area surrounding Judge Roy Bean's saloon. He also covered the route from the book "Lonesome Dove" and the "Black Hills" and the site of Custer's Last Stand, along with Utah's Monument Valley.
Knowing this, I was not surprised when I heard "Chief" exclaim, "No way Bob's riding in a cage today!"
We lined up in a staggered formation, with Bob riding with "Chief" on the trike. Not a large group, 22 bikes plus the trike, and even had a 14 year old on a 250cc. Hey it's 50 miles, if he wants to ride, well, nobody objected. We left out from downtown Duncan with Officer Riley leading the way, lights flashing and sirens at all the crossroads, with another of Duncan's finest ahead blocking traffic for us. Out to the highway and north all the way through Duncan to the city limit sign, where an officer from Marlow took over and led the way into and through town out to the Grady County Line. And thanks to Grady County and to the Rush Springs City Police Department, we made it fine........ without you........again. Jay took over point position and you could tell, with the "Chief" organizing and Jay out front, it was going to be fine. We left highway 81 north and headed west on highway 17. Going out across the western part of Grady County, the long sweeping curves and lightly rolling hills. There had been some mention of rain, but it was said that "Bob, would've said, hey, suck it up and let's ride." But the motorcycle gods were with us this day, the sun out warm and bright, the beautiful blue sky with those huge cotton candy clouds. Boy, Bob sure had a great day to ride.
Out of Grady County into the flatter Comanche County, turning golden with the summer sun. Going through Sterling, the lone officer there was noticed in his car, switching the phone to his other ear. I suppose we made too much noise going through town. Further west as we approached Elgin, we were passed by a police cruiser headed eastward, but a few minutes later, here he came, lights flashing, siren wailing. Great, a collective thought, we are all going to be pulled over. Not so, it was an Elgin cruiser headed to relieve Jay at the front. He lead us into and through Elgin and out to the Fort Sill National Cemetery. Where, at the last turn, he pulled the car out blocking east bound traffic and pulled his hat over his heart as we rode by. Now, once inside we rode around what used to be a gently rolling field that was faced to the west by the old Wichita Mountains and the new windfarm.
We had maybe a dozen people with flags surrounding the small pavilion. Everyone watched intently and reverently as the Navy Honor Guard unfolded the flag and Taps was played. If that doesn't touch you, you are the one that's dead. And when the Honor Guard refolded the flag and presented it to the widow, "from the United States Navy in appreciation for his honorable service to his country." Well.... that'll get you too.
It was my first mission, as they call them, with my new friends, the Patriot Guard Riders. It won't be my last. I don't really think it was Bob's last either. Something inside tells me, he is riding hard and fast, in territory more beautiful than we did today. He has shared handshakes and hugs with his old unit and with family and friends that have gone on before. And now has the rest of eternity to follow his passions.
Yea, that's heaven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've been told, everybody dies, but not everybody lives.
He earned his silver dolphins back in the early '50's. After serving in the Korean Conflict he went to college. He graduated in 1959 with a degree in petroleum and natural gas engineering. In 1975, he started Natural Gas Operations Co., dealing with local, independent natural gas producers.
At the age of 68, his love of motorcycles led him to start Adventure Motorsports. His knowledge of history helped him to lead several motorcycle expeditions across the old west. He explored the Oregon Trail from Missouri to Oregon. His travels included the Lewis and Clark Trail, some old stagecoach routes and the area surrounding Judge Roy Bean's saloon. He also covered the route from the book "Lonesome Dove" and the "Black Hills" and the site of Custer's Last Stand, along with Utah's Monument Valley.
Knowing this, I was not surprised when I heard "Chief" exclaim, "No way Bob's riding in a cage today!"
We lined up in a staggered formation, with Bob riding with "Chief" on the trike. Not a large group, 22 bikes plus the trike, and even had a 14 year old on a 250cc. Hey it's 50 miles, if he wants to ride, well, nobody objected. We left out from downtown Duncan with Officer Riley leading the way, lights flashing and sirens at all the crossroads, with another of Duncan's finest ahead blocking traffic for us. Out to the highway and north all the way through Duncan to the city limit sign, where an officer from Marlow took over and led the way into and through town out to the Grady County Line. And thanks to Grady County and to the Rush Springs City Police Department, we made it fine........ without you........again. Jay took over point position and you could tell, with the "Chief" organizing and Jay out front, it was going to be fine. We left highway 81 north and headed west on highway 17. Going out across the western part of Grady County, the long sweeping curves and lightly rolling hills. There had been some mention of rain, but it was said that "Bob, would've said, hey, suck it up and let's ride." But the motorcycle gods were with us this day, the sun out warm and bright, the beautiful blue sky with those huge cotton candy clouds. Boy, Bob sure had a great day to ride.
Out of Grady County into the flatter Comanche County, turning golden with the summer sun. Going through Sterling, the lone officer there was noticed in his car, switching the phone to his other ear. I suppose we made too much noise going through town. Further west as we approached Elgin, we were passed by a police cruiser headed eastward, but a few minutes later, here he came, lights flashing, siren wailing. Great, a collective thought, we are all going to be pulled over. Not so, it was an Elgin cruiser headed to relieve Jay at the front. He lead us into and through Elgin and out to the Fort Sill National Cemetery. Where, at the last turn, he pulled the car out blocking east bound traffic and pulled his hat over his heart as we rode by. Now, once inside we rode around what used to be a gently rolling field that was faced to the west by the old Wichita Mountains and the new windfarm.
We had maybe a dozen people with flags surrounding the small pavilion. Everyone watched intently and reverently as the Navy Honor Guard unfolded the flag and Taps was played. If that doesn't touch you, you are the one that's dead. And when the Honor Guard refolded the flag and presented it to the widow, "from the United States Navy in appreciation for his honorable service to his country." Well.... that'll get you too.
It was my first mission, as they call them, with my new friends, the Patriot Guard Riders. It won't be my last. I don't really think it was Bob's last either. Something inside tells me, he is riding hard and fast, in territory more beautiful than we did today. He has shared handshakes and hugs with his old unit and with family and friends that have gone on before. And now has the rest of eternity to follow his passions.
Yea, that's heaven.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Wild Hog Report
Mom's Run 2010 Edition
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know how to eat an elephant right? One bite at a time.
This one was a bit of a challenge. Last Saturday, I got up at 4 am, had breakfast, like I do before work. Only this day I was not going to work, I was going to take my 2nd annual "Mom's Run." This time to Winslow, AZ. I wanted to have my picture taken in front of a sign that really says, "Standing on a corner in Winslow, AZ". Just like in the Eagles' song.
I left out at 5 am, heading west toward Lawton and by the time the sun came up I was looking over at the beauty of the Wichita Mountains. Shortly after that I smelled the heavy, sweet perfume of the almost endless wheat fields of western Oklahoma. Nice start, purple mountains majesty and the amber waves of grain. I know why I live here and can't understand why others don't.
Out on this two-lane, you cross over into the craggy, rugged landscape that is northern Texas. Soon though you discover the huge expanse that is the Salt Creek Ranch. Forget the Ponderosa, and Southfork, this thing is something to behold. A pair of the biggest houses I've ever seen, anchoring a compound that would likely make J.R. feel envious.
Moving on north toward Amarillo, once again, the massive ranches and farms and more cattle than I've ever seen before. One of the few big towns seen on this trip was Amarillo, TX. It has what you'd expect for a city including the National Quarter Horse Museum. It's in Texas, so it has to be huge and I made a mental note that I'd like to return some day and visit. Somewhere west of Amarillo, I caught another familiar smell, stockyard. That's all I will say about that.
I had bought gas in Memphis.........Texas and I was wanting to stretch it out a bit, because of the time, so I went through Amarillo and ended up nervously hoping Tucumcari wasn't all that far. I do carry a one gallon gas can with me, full, in case, but.......
Anyway, I found out that it takes about 4.7 gallons of gas in my motorcycle to go from Memphis, TX. to Tucumcari, AZ. In a 5 gallon tank. That is part of the reason for these trips, pushing.
Once in New Mexico, the terrain changes dramatically. It reminded me much of Montana, but the colors are very different. I've never seen so much color. How can the earth, have so much color. It was difficult at times to keep my eyes on the road for stretching my neck to follow the lines of the surrounding hills. So tall and magnificent. I was spellbound by the fact that these mountains had been here, much like they are now, long before humans had been created. And they will be here long after. Beautiful little towns spring up and go by. Through Santa Rosa and into Moriarty, where the Memorial Of Perpetual Tears is right there on the side of the interstate. It is a memorial to those killed in the U.S. each year by drunk drivers. Check out their website, and if possible, I would encourage you to make a donation. Then onto the other "big" town, Albuquerque. Just before entering into Albuquerque, I noticed a woman, placing flowers around a small white cross on the side of the road. Not sure why I mention it, thought it was pertinent. Albuquerque blew me away, it is so pretty and clean for a city of it's size. All along this trip I was mesmerized by the beauty that is New Mexico. As I looked around, I felt like a hillbilly on his first trip to the big city. I spent most of my time looking up, buttes, mesas, mountains, whatever, I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not a movie or a picture, real! Sound like that hillbilly, huh?
After going through Albuquerque, it got tedious. I was starting to feel that wall coming up. The fatigue, soreness starting to settle in on me. My enthusiasm was waning, it seemed that Gallup would never appear and I had to get by there and on into Arizona. By the time I crossed the divide, which is not as dramatic as it is to the north, I was becoming anxious and maybe a bit depressed. My timing was off and I couldn't understand why. I was behind schedule. All that was adding up to a ride that was becoming a beating. Questions, will I make it, when can I rest, and others popped up causing the inside of my head to spin. Once I did get into Arizona, I stopped for fuel and called my Cat to talk a bit while I rested and finally ate a sandwich. I was in Sanders, AZ, still had about 100 miles to go and I was over my planned time schedule. I made the decision to stop and make Holbrook my turn around point. It's in the rules, if decision making becomes difficult, it's time to chill. I hated the fact that I was going to turn around before I made my goal. I did have the time and the mileage to qualify the run, but man, so close, but so far away. Once I decided to turn around, all of a sudden, I felt better. I began to feel excited again and the anxiety and depression lifted. Wise choice. I ran into the Dollar General in Holbrook and bought a $1 bandanna so I'd have a receipt with a date and time stamp and headed for home. On the way back, I found myself wondering about the power of those mountains. Was that what caused my anquish, leaving an area so full of magic? To me, those hills I imagined to be there to launch angels into Heaven. And I rode on and on. I did stop for a bit and took a couple of pictures of the sun setting on Laguna. Since my enthusiasm had returned, I discovered that not only was Albuquerque pretty during the day, but downright gorgeous at night. The way they use pottery to decorate the side of the interstate during the day, they use lights inside the pottery to show the way at night. Breathtaking, I have to go back for a vacation someday. I did finally check into the ironbutt motel after some 20 hours in the saddle and with 1138 miles behind me. After about 2 hours, some truck driver who didn't think I should be in the overnight parking for trucks helped me decide to move on toward home. Don't need all that. That was in Santa Rosa. Down the road a bit more, to the west of Amarillo, I rested again. As I have stated before, the sun rising has a narcotic effect almost. It fills you with spirit and strength, so when it came up about 1 1/2 hours after I checked back in to the motel, I was on the road, glad that I was obviously going to make it. I had talked all along to mom, she didn't answer the questions I asked about if she had been to New Mexico and seen all this, but I'm thinking she enjoyed the ride anyway. I was still 5 to 6 hours from home, not that the time went by so quickly, but I was on the back side and once again, I was to return home safely and none the worse for wear. It was an experience and I'm glad I did it and even though it was a bit rough at times, it was worth it. Next year, hmmm, a hint, maybe hog mecca. Thanks for riding with me. And thanks for the company ma.
As a postscript, I should add. A friend of mine passed away during my trip. He was a friend to me longer than anyone else I ever called a friend. He was a stand up guy and I'm sure a very good Marine. Ride on brother, yes I called you brother even though you never liked that and rest easy Marine, your service in Hell is over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know how to eat an elephant right? One bite at a time.
This one was a bit of a challenge. Last Saturday, I got up at 4 am, had breakfast, like I do before work. Only this day I was not going to work, I was going to take my 2nd annual "Mom's Run." This time to Winslow, AZ. I wanted to have my picture taken in front of a sign that really says, "Standing on a corner in Winslow, AZ". Just like in the Eagles' song.
I left out at 5 am, heading west toward Lawton and by the time the sun came up I was looking over at the beauty of the Wichita Mountains. Shortly after that I smelled the heavy, sweet perfume of the almost endless wheat fields of western Oklahoma. Nice start, purple mountains majesty and the amber waves of grain. I know why I live here and can't understand why others don't.
Out on this two-lane, you cross over into the craggy, rugged landscape that is northern Texas. Soon though you discover the huge expanse that is the Salt Creek Ranch. Forget the Ponderosa, and Southfork, this thing is something to behold. A pair of the biggest houses I've ever seen, anchoring a compound that would likely make J.R. feel envious.
Moving on north toward Amarillo, once again, the massive ranches and farms and more cattle than I've ever seen before. One of the few big towns seen on this trip was Amarillo, TX. It has what you'd expect for a city including the National Quarter Horse Museum. It's in Texas, so it has to be huge and I made a mental note that I'd like to return some day and visit. Somewhere west of Amarillo, I caught another familiar smell, stockyard. That's all I will say about that.
I had bought gas in Memphis.........Texas and I was wanting to stretch it out a bit, because of the time, so I went through Amarillo and ended up nervously hoping Tucumcari wasn't all that far. I do carry a one gallon gas can with me, full, in case, but.......
Anyway, I found out that it takes about 4.7 gallons of gas in my motorcycle to go from Memphis, TX. to Tucumcari, AZ. In a 5 gallon tank. That is part of the reason for these trips, pushing.
Once in New Mexico, the terrain changes dramatically. It reminded me much of Montana, but the colors are very different. I've never seen so much color. How can the earth, have so much color. It was difficult at times to keep my eyes on the road for stretching my neck to follow the lines of the surrounding hills. So tall and magnificent. I was spellbound by the fact that these mountains had been here, much like they are now, long before humans had been created. And they will be here long after. Beautiful little towns spring up and go by. Through Santa Rosa and into Moriarty, where the Memorial Of Perpetual Tears is right there on the side of the interstate. It is a memorial to those killed in the U.S. each year by drunk drivers. Check out their website, and if possible, I would encourage you to make a donation. Then onto the other "big" town, Albuquerque. Just before entering into Albuquerque, I noticed a woman, placing flowers around a small white cross on the side of the road. Not sure why I mention it, thought it was pertinent. Albuquerque blew me away, it is so pretty and clean for a city of it's size. All along this trip I was mesmerized by the beauty that is New Mexico. As I looked around, I felt like a hillbilly on his first trip to the big city. I spent most of my time looking up, buttes, mesas, mountains, whatever, I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not a movie or a picture, real! Sound like that hillbilly, huh?
After going through Albuquerque, it got tedious. I was starting to feel that wall coming up. The fatigue, soreness starting to settle in on me. My enthusiasm was waning, it seemed that Gallup would never appear and I had to get by there and on into Arizona. By the time I crossed the divide, which is not as dramatic as it is to the north, I was becoming anxious and maybe a bit depressed. My timing was off and I couldn't understand why. I was behind schedule. All that was adding up to a ride that was becoming a beating. Questions, will I make it, when can I rest, and others popped up causing the inside of my head to spin. Once I did get into Arizona, I stopped for fuel and called my Cat to talk a bit while I rested and finally ate a sandwich. I was in Sanders, AZ, still had about 100 miles to go and I was over my planned time schedule. I made the decision to stop and make Holbrook my turn around point. It's in the rules, if decision making becomes difficult, it's time to chill. I hated the fact that I was going to turn around before I made my goal. I did have the time and the mileage to qualify the run, but man, so close, but so far away. Once I decided to turn around, all of a sudden, I felt better. I began to feel excited again and the anxiety and depression lifted. Wise choice. I ran into the Dollar General in Holbrook and bought a $1 bandanna so I'd have a receipt with a date and time stamp and headed for home. On the way back, I found myself wondering about the power of those mountains. Was that what caused my anquish, leaving an area so full of magic? To me, those hills I imagined to be there to launch angels into Heaven. And I rode on and on. I did stop for a bit and took a couple of pictures of the sun setting on Laguna. Since my enthusiasm had returned, I discovered that not only was Albuquerque pretty during the day, but downright gorgeous at night. The way they use pottery to decorate the side of the interstate during the day, they use lights inside the pottery to show the way at night. Breathtaking, I have to go back for a vacation someday. I did finally check into the ironbutt motel after some 20 hours in the saddle and with 1138 miles behind me. After about 2 hours, some truck driver who didn't think I should be in the overnight parking for trucks helped me decide to move on toward home. Don't need all that. That was in Santa Rosa. Down the road a bit more, to the west of Amarillo, I rested again. As I have stated before, the sun rising has a narcotic effect almost. It fills you with spirit and strength, so when it came up about 1 1/2 hours after I checked back in to the motel, I was on the road, glad that I was obviously going to make it. I had talked all along to mom, she didn't answer the questions I asked about if she had been to New Mexico and seen all this, but I'm thinking she enjoyed the ride anyway. I was still 5 to 6 hours from home, not that the time went by so quickly, but I was on the back side and once again, I was to return home safely and none the worse for wear. It was an experience and I'm glad I did it and even though it was a bit rough at times, it was worth it. Next year, hmmm, a hint, maybe hog mecca. Thanks for riding with me. And thanks for the company ma.
As a postscript, I should add. A friend of mine passed away during my trip. He was a friend to me longer than anyone else I ever called a friend. He was a stand up guy and I'm sure a very good Marine. Ride on brother, yes I called you brother even though you never liked that and rest easy Marine, your service in Hell is over.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Thanks to ALL who serve.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
December 7, 1941. A kid is awakened by the sound of gunfire and his neighbor hammering on the door. He runs out and finds himself in the middle of a nightmare. Instead of running for cover, he runs over to man a 50 calibre anti-aircraft machine gun. His claim is that he doesn't know if he hit anything, but, "I shot at every Jap plane I saw." Two hours later, after the last plane was out of sight, he was ordered to leave his post and seek medical attention. He had 21 shrapnel wounds, including a bullet that went through his foot and an arm that he couldn't feel. He never thought of himself as a hero, he said he was just a kid that got really mad one day. That was Lt. John Finn, who was the first World War 2 soldier to receive the Medal of Honor. He passed away last Thursday, May 27th, at the age of 100.
This is the day we remember and celebrate the lives of those who watch over us. The ones who rush in as we rush out. The people in uniform who stand between us and those who would destroy our way of life. And as we celebrate with family and friends, we, of course should take a pause and think of those who are carrying a pager they hope won't go off, just one day. Those in uniforms, either soldier or ER nurse or any emergency personel.
Also, the unsung hero. Those people we don't notice. I have stated many times that I've never met a fireman I didn't like, then I met J.H. No, I'm not going to sit here on THIS day and talk bad about someone with whom I could never find enough common ground with to enjoy a friendship. But none the less, regardless of how we feel about each other, I know in my heart that if someone pages him and tells him that Gary's house is on fire, he will show up as soon as he can and will work as hard as he can to put that fire out. I know he will spit tobacco juice all over my lawn, but I sure will be glad to see him. He is also the guy who will give blood at any and all opportunities, without question or hesitation. And it also occurred to me, what if....... Say that someone decides that the company I work for has made enough money, in war torn countries and wants to do something about it. Make a statement. Who will be the first to know? Would it be the people we hardly notice that greet us as we scan our badges and walk through the front doors? How about that little blond at the back gate? Would that 5 foot tall, 90 pound lady, when faced with "a nightmare", become as Lt. John Finn and say, "I was just doing what they pay me for."
December 7, 1941. A kid is awakened by the sound of gunfire and his neighbor hammering on the door. He runs out and finds himself in the middle of a nightmare. Instead of running for cover, he runs over to man a 50 calibre anti-aircraft machine gun. His claim is that he doesn't know if he hit anything, but, "I shot at every Jap plane I saw." Two hours later, after the last plane was out of sight, he was ordered to leave his post and seek medical attention. He had 21 shrapnel wounds, including a bullet that went through his foot and an arm that he couldn't feel. He never thought of himself as a hero, he said he was just a kid that got really mad one day. That was Lt. John Finn, who was the first World War 2 soldier to receive the Medal of Honor. He passed away last Thursday, May 27th, at the age of 100.
This is the day we remember and celebrate the lives of those who watch over us. The ones who rush in as we rush out. The people in uniform who stand between us and those who would destroy our way of life. And as we celebrate with family and friends, we, of course should take a pause and think of those who are carrying a pager they hope won't go off, just one day. Those in uniforms, either soldier or ER nurse or any emergency personel.
Also, the unsung hero. Those people we don't notice. I have stated many times that I've never met a fireman I didn't like, then I met J.H. No, I'm not going to sit here on THIS day and talk bad about someone with whom I could never find enough common ground with to enjoy a friendship. But none the less, regardless of how we feel about each other, I know in my heart that if someone pages him and tells him that Gary's house is on fire, he will show up as soon as he can and will work as hard as he can to put that fire out. I know he will spit tobacco juice all over my lawn, but I sure will be glad to see him. He is also the guy who will give blood at any and all opportunities, without question or hesitation. And it also occurred to me, what if....... Say that someone decides that the company I work for has made enough money, in war torn countries and wants to do something about it. Make a statement. Who will be the first to know? Would it be the people we hardly notice that greet us as we scan our badges and walk through the front doors? How about that little blond at the back gate? Would that 5 foot tall, 90 pound lady, when faced with "a nightmare", become as Lt. John Finn and say, "I was just doing what they pay me for."
Saturday, May 22, 2010
MS WALK
Took a walk today, for a friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I went for a walk today, it was a walk for Multiple Sclerosis. It was small, no where near the walk in Atlanta today. But the small crowd, celebrating the first annual walk in Ardmore, Oklahoma, did manage to come up with over $10,000. I was proud, I didn't raise all that much, but I'm happy for what I did raise and in supporting me, my friends helped me support another friend.
After registering, we talked with some of the volunteers and I'm not sure I should brag, but I did answer 4 of the 7 questions regarding MS on the quiz correctly. Hope you don't think less of me for that.
Just before the walk began, there was an invocation given by one of the local pastors. The boy scout troop held up the American Flag while everyone recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Once that was done, a young lady sang the National Anthem and did a pretty good job of it, followed by cheers. During those observances, it was mostly quiet, with what I considered to be proper respect. These Okies, they love it here almost as much as I do. :)
Then the walk started. It wasn't bad. There is a wide concrete surface that only had one good dip before the closest thing to a hill to climb came up. We and the others chatted as we walked down the tree lined path through the woods. Of course, Cathy had to speak to all the dogs on the way. We took a few pictures, tempermental cameras, hmmmp. And also, I guess you can't have this time of gathering without some kid, probably on the cross country team, shooting past everyone and the old man who feels kind of bad about being in the way. Then there are the small groups of supporters, shouting encouragement and appreciation to the walkers along the way. At the halfway point, there was the rest station, refreshment stand, AND the challenge of a longer walk. Another path led off to a longer walk for........the...younger folks. And at the end, another group of well wishers, waving pom poms and shouting "You made it!" and "Thank you!" , while yet another group was giving out the medals for the finishers. No, I'm not done. As you walk up and out toward the pavilion, the Antique Tractor Club had a tractor with the pto hooked up to a belt hooked up to an old fashioned ice cream churn. Uh...yea..it was good.
Ok, one last story. In addition to the signed headband I wore to show I was walking for my champion who is battling MS, I wore my So You Can Sleep t shirt. A guy walked up to me and said "tell your son in law, thanks for serving." I told him, I do, to which he responded, "no, tell him coming from a total stranger in Ardmore, Oklahoma, thanks for serving." I told him I would and that I was walking for two of my heroes.
So it was a good time and we did make our goal. What's next? Well I did sign up for a diabetes motorcycle ride in Witchita, Ks. for July and maybe a diabetes volunteer in OKC for October and I'm still thinking about the Patriot Guard Riders. Damn, Dennis, what have you done to me brother? Love you man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I went for a walk today, it was a walk for Multiple Sclerosis. It was small, no where near the walk in Atlanta today. But the small crowd, celebrating the first annual walk in Ardmore, Oklahoma, did manage to come up with over $10,000. I was proud, I didn't raise all that much, but I'm happy for what I did raise and in supporting me, my friends helped me support another friend.
After registering, we talked with some of the volunteers and I'm not sure I should brag, but I did answer 4 of the 7 questions regarding MS on the quiz correctly. Hope you don't think less of me for that.
Just before the walk began, there was an invocation given by one of the local pastors. The boy scout troop held up the American Flag while everyone recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Once that was done, a young lady sang the National Anthem and did a pretty good job of it, followed by cheers. During those observances, it was mostly quiet, with what I considered to be proper respect. These Okies, they love it here almost as much as I do. :)
Then the walk started. It wasn't bad. There is a wide concrete surface that only had one good dip before the closest thing to a hill to climb came up. We and the others chatted as we walked down the tree lined path through the woods. Of course, Cathy had to speak to all the dogs on the way. We took a few pictures, tempermental cameras, hmmmp. And also, I guess you can't have this time of gathering without some kid, probably on the cross country team, shooting past everyone and the old man who feels kind of bad about being in the way. Then there are the small groups of supporters, shouting encouragement and appreciation to the walkers along the way. At the halfway point, there was the rest station, refreshment stand, AND the challenge of a longer walk. Another path led off to a longer walk for........the...younger folks. And at the end, another group of well wishers, waving pom poms and shouting "You made it!" and "Thank you!" , while yet another group was giving out the medals for the finishers. No, I'm not done. As you walk up and out toward the pavilion, the Antique Tractor Club had a tractor with the pto hooked up to a belt hooked up to an old fashioned ice cream churn. Uh...yea..it was good.
Ok, one last story. In addition to the signed headband I wore to show I was walking for my champion who is battling MS, I wore my So You Can Sleep t shirt. A guy walked up to me and said "tell your son in law, thanks for serving." I told him, I do, to which he responded, "no, tell him coming from a total stranger in Ardmore, Oklahoma, thanks for serving." I told him I would and that I was walking for two of my heroes.
So it was a good time and we did make our goal. What's next? Well I did sign up for a diabetes motorcycle ride in Witchita, Ks. for July and maybe a diabetes volunteer in OKC for October and I'm still thinking about the Patriot Guard Riders. Damn, Dennis, what have you done to me brother? Love you man.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Another first for me.
Do you believe what you see............or see what you believe?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was just across that field. Move to the right along the tree line there. Right there where those rocks are is a little creek. Not a big creek, if you wanted, you could just kind of hop over it.
Well, it was late spring, early summer. Nice and warm, but not hot. The sun felt good, never thought winter would end.
I had decided to take a walk in the field, you could smell those wildflowers from the kitchen and I wanted to get in the middle of them. As I walked, I found myself headed for that little creek. Once I was there, I sat down and leaned up against that old hollow log. Nice. Smelling those wildflowers, listening to the creek cascading down those rocks. Wondering why I never bothered to learn the names and songs of those birds. And always.........looking up......checking out the shapes of those big fluffy clouds hanging in the perfect blue sky.
I truly never noticed being lifted, I did notice being moved. As I moved I felt a smile across my face.......if whomever or whatever was moving me thought I'd fit in that hollow log, well, I just didn't think so.
Once inside the log, it was down, down, down. Deep into the earth. When my eyes started to focus in the darkness, I realized that those little christmassy looking twinkle lights were actually lanterns carried by tiny fairies. The reason, of course, was in order for the gnomes who were busily working even further down below me to be able to see.
Looking around, I realized, that what some would call brownies, had carried me down. I felt no fear, I felt like I had been given a gift. An opportunity for a lesson....... maybe.
It seems that mother nature, who possesses many wonderful things, also, has a workforce. With all her valuables being sought after at such a feverish pace by the humans, she had decided to move them around. How long since you've heard of a big "strike".
She has hired these fairies to keep the underground areas lit up, so as I said, the gnomes can work tirelessly, mining gold, silver, diamonds, and other treasures.
I witnessed the mole, digging endlessly. The mole has a knack for finding treasure. He was made blind so he could "sniff out" the treasures, but would never see them, so as not to desire those objects that shine so brightly and want them for himself.
Then the gnomes come and mine the great find and load the woven grass baskets, produced by the weaver birds.
At that point, the baskets are pulled by gophers to where ever mother nature desires. In that way, a large cache is broken down into something easier to hide.
Once an area has the proper amount hidden, then the badger is hired for security. There may also be prairie dogs or meer cats used for sentries.
So always remember, if you see where a mole has been digging in your yard, it may be that mother nature is planning to hide some of her valuables on your property.
Should you see a prairie dog or meer cat run and hide upon your approach, it could be that he or she is warning the others to prepare to take the precious items to another location.
Also, if the rabbits are raiding your garden, you may be feeding a troupe of gnomes.
And I don't have to tell you what may happen if you disturb a badger.
I awakened, still leaning against that hollow log. I had been there until the shadows were long and the sky had turned orange and red and purple. And I'm not sure, but I believe that I could hear a bit of a rumble below me.........under the ground. Hmmm, what do you think?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was just across that field. Move to the right along the tree line there. Right there where those rocks are is a little creek. Not a big creek, if you wanted, you could just kind of hop over it.
Well, it was late spring, early summer. Nice and warm, but not hot. The sun felt good, never thought winter would end.
I had decided to take a walk in the field, you could smell those wildflowers from the kitchen and I wanted to get in the middle of them. As I walked, I found myself headed for that little creek. Once I was there, I sat down and leaned up against that old hollow log. Nice. Smelling those wildflowers, listening to the creek cascading down those rocks. Wondering why I never bothered to learn the names and songs of those birds. And always.........looking up......checking out the shapes of those big fluffy clouds hanging in the perfect blue sky.
I truly never noticed being lifted, I did notice being moved. As I moved I felt a smile across my face.......if whomever or whatever was moving me thought I'd fit in that hollow log, well, I just didn't think so.
Once inside the log, it was down, down, down. Deep into the earth. When my eyes started to focus in the darkness, I realized that those little christmassy looking twinkle lights were actually lanterns carried by tiny fairies. The reason, of course, was in order for the gnomes who were busily working even further down below me to be able to see.
Looking around, I realized, that what some would call brownies, had carried me down. I felt no fear, I felt like I had been given a gift. An opportunity for a lesson....... maybe.
It seems that mother nature, who possesses many wonderful things, also, has a workforce. With all her valuables being sought after at such a feverish pace by the humans, she had decided to move them around. How long since you've heard of a big "strike".
She has hired these fairies to keep the underground areas lit up, so as I said, the gnomes can work tirelessly, mining gold, silver, diamonds, and other treasures.
I witnessed the mole, digging endlessly. The mole has a knack for finding treasure. He was made blind so he could "sniff out" the treasures, but would never see them, so as not to desire those objects that shine so brightly and want them for himself.
Then the gnomes come and mine the great find and load the woven grass baskets, produced by the weaver birds.
At that point, the baskets are pulled by gophers to where ever mother nature desires. In that way, a large cache is broken down into something easier to hide.
Once an area has the proper amount hidden, then the badger is hired for security. There may also be prairie dogs or meer cats used for sentries.
So always remember, if you see where a mole has been digging in your yard, it may be that mother nature is planning to hide some of her valuables on your property.
Should you see a prairie dog or meer cat run and hide upon your approach, it could be that he or she is warning the others to prepare to take the precious items to another location.
Also, if the rabbits are raiding your garden, you may be feeding a troupe of gnomes.
And I don't have to tell you what may happen if you disturb a badger.
I awakened, still leaning against that hollow log. I had been there until the shadows were long and the sky had turned orange and red and purple. And I'm not sure, but I believe that I could hear a bit of a rumble below me.........under the ground. Hmmm, what do you think?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
15 years, has it been that long?
Yes it has...........
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 19, 1995
I've been there........to that very spot. Some guy with a beef, killed 168 people, but..........no one he was mad at. Useless........murder.
I've said that anyone who visits here will go there. Have to apologize to my nephew for not taking him. But my brother went, he felt the power of that place.
I felt it on my first visit as well and on the next and the next. As you walk through, hearing, seeing, feeling all the stories from that day, you find the one thing that strikes you. Maybe there is a picture that really grabs you. Maybe the story about the shoes, the guy who walked in and gave shoes to help with those who lost their own, then walked out bare-footed. Or the stories of the children, perfectly innocent, suddenly taken with no warning. Or yours may be the one about the nurse, who came back in and back again, helping, until she was overcome herself and died. Mine was the bloodline. Having never been one with the courage to give blood, I read a story that tells of the people who waited in line for up to 8 hours to give blood. These Okies. I've done a little wandering during my life and as I approach my 7th year in this place, I wonder about many things. What I have learned about these people that seems to be very different than others I have known. They are a friendly lot. Can't say I've met people who seem so accepting, en masse, than I've met here. Seems everyday, I see someone with a t-shirt concerning giving blood and even where I work has the Oklahoma Blood Center in about every 45 days. Nobody says anything to me. It's just something they do. They don't expect anything from newcomers, I've not heard once, "You're not from here are you?" Heard that almost daily from somewhere else I spent a couple of years. These cowboys and ranchers and the like, who love their country music, who seem to produce more than their share of famous people can seem a bit judgemental. When you read the papers, you see the firm, hardcase, conservative line of the majority, but you won't see it anywhere else. When someone, anyone needs something, they are there. For each other and for you. They may not care for the black leather or the tattoos or the long whiskers, but they will never say anything and it won't stop them from doing their best to help out. I've often wondered why I am here. I'm not likely to ever leave, but I wonder why they let me stay. It's not like I fit in.
What was he thinking? That day when he took his rented moving truck and parked in front of that federal building in Oklahoma City. He couldn't have realized that you can't blow something apart that holds so tightly together. Sure the building went down and many lost their lives, but that spirit, the spirit that brought so many out here barely a hundred years ago, very much lives in the heart of the home that I now, proudly, call my own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 19, 1995
I've been there........to that very spot. Some guy with a beef, killed 168 people, but..........no one he was mad at. Useless........murder.
I've said that anyone who visits here will go there. Have to apologize to my nephew for not taking him. But my brother went, he felt the power of that place.
I felt it on my first visit as well and on the next and the next. As you walk through, hearing, seeing, feeling all the stories from that day, you find the one thing that strikes you. Maybe there is a picture that really grabs you. Maybe the story about the shoes, the guy who walked in and gave shoes to help with those who lost their own, then walked out bare-footed. Or the stories of the children, perfectly innocent, suddenly taken with no warning. Or yours may be the one about the nurse, who came back in and back again, helping, until she was overcome herself and died. Mine was the bloodline. Having never been one with the courage to give blood, I read a story that tells of the people who waited in line for up to 8 hours to give blood. These Okies. I've done a little wandering during my life and as I approach my 7th year in this place, I wonder about many things. What I have learned about these people that seems to be very different than others I have known. They are a friendly lot. Can't say I've met people who seem so accepting, en masse, than I've met here. Seems everyday, I see someone with a t-shirt concerning giving blood and even where I work has the Oklahoma Blood Center in about every 45 days. Nobody says anything to me. It's just something they do. They don't expect anything from newcomers, I've not heard once, "You're not from here are you?" Heard that almost daily from somewhere else I spent a couple of years. These cowboys and ranchers and the like, who love their country music, who seem to produce more than their share of famous people can seem a bit judgemental. When you read the papers, you see the firm, hardcase, conservative line of the majority, but you won't see it anywhere else. When someone, anyone needs something, they are there. For each other and for you. They may not care for the black leather or the tattoos or the long whiskers, but they will never say anything and it won't stop them from doing their best to help out. I've often wondered why I am here. I'm not likely to ever leave, but I wonder why they let me stay. It's not like I fit in.
What was he thinking? That day when he took his rented moving truck and parked in front of that federal building in Oklahoma City. He couldn't have realized that you can't blow something apart that holds so tightly together. Sure the building went down and many lost their lives, but that spirit, the spirit that brought so many out here barely a hundred years ago, very much lives in the heart of the home that I now, proudly, call my own.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Not another birthday!
Here's another memory, sorry if they all seem sad, but it's how they come to me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remember sitting on the couch..........hot day..... humid...... sweaty....... dirty...... tired. She sits down on the arm of the couch, drapes her legs across me, pop....shshshshsh, opens the cold one, takes a sip and hands it to me. Ahhhhh, good, real good. Then the click of the bic and the long slow draw off a round one. The smoke hits my nostrils, and it becomes a moment that I have never forgotten.
She really pulled a "boner" once, more than once, but this one is classic. Proved maybe she trusted me too much. haha Went to the house to help her brother build a fence for the dog. Not so bad except she bought the case of beer before we started. She goes to work and so did we, on that beer. She comes home from work and we haven't started the fence and the beer is gone and we are on the couch watching tv. Not good. Next day she tries again, are you kiddin' me? haha Same result, except some of the holes are there for the fence posts, hmmm, progress. Saturday comes and with her supervision, kind of a half-a.. fence is put up for a large german shepherd, who promply pushes it almost to the ground and hops over. He, of course, thinks he did something cool and jumps around like a pup, laughing and making fun of us. She still always thought highly of me, it seemed. Always treated me very well.
Showed up once, had a habit of that. She spoiled me for others, because it became a habit. I never called or whatever, just showed up. Anytime, day or night, she never said anything about it. If it was a bad time, she told me and I'd come back another time. But this time, the dog had been shot, reason for the fence. I just walked up and she was running around, frantically. Someone had been spooked by the big dog and shot him. I just grabbed him up and put him in the car and off we went to the local vets office. After the treatment and things had settled, except for the ill will against the shooter, she told me something I've only heard on that occasion, she said "you know you are always there for me when I need you". Better'n money in the bank.
I can't forget the Christmas party either. Sorry, but back then we spent a great deal of our lives involved with alcohol and ........whatever..... But this party was really something. We had all drawn names and bought ...........uhh......paraphernalia. As your name was called, you gave your gift and everyone .....tried it out. From that point of view, it was great fun. Wouldn't .....couldn't do that these days, but early 20's and bulletproof, was fun. It was the only time I ever showed anyone the "water trick" my dad had taught me years ago. I won't describe it, because I may get the opportunity to do it again some time, haha. It was great fun, no doubt.
We went to a concert together once. I went and had special t-shirts printed for the event. Hers said "BITCH BITCH BITCH" and mine said "Quitcherbitchin' ". The concert was fantastic, one of the finest shows I've ever seen. And afterwards, when I took her home.........was the first time......well.......thought seriously about it.......but we never did.
I can't imagine, as close as we were. The time we spent together. Never did.
She was always involved in things were you could be injured and did make the hospital more than a couple of times back then. I always showed up, hell bent, get out of my way, I'm here to see my friend, not you. Didn't matter who. Ha, went on a motorcycle trip once, fell asleep, fell off, damn.
But the last time.........I didn't make it. Maybe something inside told me, it was the last time. Maybe I thought........it would be ok. I was going to go on Saturday. No reason.
I miss you my friend, here with all my memories. That part of my heart is and will always be.....yours.
Happy Birthday!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remember sitting on the couch..........hot day..... humid...... sweaty....... dirty...... tired. She sits down on the arm of the couch, drapes her legs across me, pop....shshshshsh, opens the cold one, takes a sip and hands it to me. Ahhhhh, good, real good. Then the click of the bic and the long slow draw off a round one. The smoke hits my nostrils, and it becomes a moment that I have never forgotten.
She really pulled a "boner" once, more than once, but this one is classic. Proved maybe she trusted me too much. haha Went to the house to help her brother build a fence for the dog. Not so bad except she bought the case of beer before we started. She goes to work and so did we, on that beer. She comes home from work and we haven't started the fence and the beer is gone and we are on the couch watching tv. Not good. Next day she tries again, are you kiddin' me? haha Same result, except some of the holes are there for the fence posts, hmmm, progress. Saturday comes and with her supervision, kind of a half-a.. fence is put up for a large german shepherd, who promply pushes it almost to the ground and hops over. He, of course, thinks he did something cool and jumps around like a pup, laughing and making fun of us. She still always thought highly of me, it seemed. Always treated me very well.
Showed up once, had a habit of that. She spoiled me for others, because it became a habit. I never called or whatever, just showed up. Anytime, day or night, she never said anything about it. If it was a bad time, she told me and I'd come back another time. But this time, the dog had been shot, reason for the fence. I just walked up and she was running around, frantically. Someone had been spooked by the big dog and shot him. I just grabbed him up and put him in the car and off we went to the local vets office. After the treatment and things had settled, except for the ill will against the shooter, she told me something I've only heard on that occasion, she said "you know you are always there for me when I need you". Better'n money in the bank.
I can't forget the Christmas party either. Sorry, but back then we spent a great deal of our lives involved with alcohol and ........whatever..... But this party was really something. We had all drawn names and bought ...........uhh......paraphernalia. As your name was called, you gave your gift and everyone .....tried it out. From that point of view, it was great fun. Wouldn't .....couldn't do that these days, but early 20's and bulletproof, was fun. It was the only time I ever showed anyone the "water trick" my dad had taught me years ago. I won't describe it, because I may get the opportunity to do it again some time, haha. It was great fun, no doubt.
We went to a concert together once. I went and had special t-shirts printed for the event. Hers said "BITCH BITCH BITCH" and mine said "Quitcherbitchin' ". The concert was fantastic, one of the finest shows I've ever seen. And afterwards, when I took her home.........was the first time......well.......thought seriously about it.......but we never did.
I can't imagine, as close as we were. The time we spent together. Never did.
She was always involved in things were you could be injured and did make the hospital more than a couple of times back then. I always showed up, hell bent, get out of my way, I'm here to see my friend, not you. Didn't matter who. Ha, went on a motorcycle trip once, fell asleep, fell off, damn.
But the last time.........I didn't make it. Maybe something inside told me, it was the last time. Maybe I thought........it would be ok. I was going to go on Saturday. No reason.
I miss you my friend, here with all my memories. That part of my heart is and will always be.....yours.
Happy Birthday!
Sunday, April 11, 2010
For a Friend
Decided to do something nice for a friend, like......be one.
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Dear Friends and Family,
The National MS Society is gearing up for the annual 2010 Ardmore MS Walk. I am planning to be a part of that event and I am asking you to join me in the fight against MS by making a contribution to support my effort.
The National Multiple Sclerosis Society is dedicated to ending the devastating effects of MS. They simultaneously fund research for a cure while also helping people who currently live with MS lead more fulfilling lives. I believe in the work they do, and I invite you to see for yourself all the good they've done for the MS community. More than 400,000 Americans live with MS, and your support can and will make changes in their lives.
Please help by making a donation - large or small - to fight MS. Or, why not join me on the day of the event? Become a participant and side by side, as teammates, we can work together to raise the funds to make a difference.
Whatever you can give will help! I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress.
Sincerely,
Gary Manning
Click here to get to my personal page and make a secure, online donation.
To send a donation: Make all checks payable to: National MS SocietyMail to: National MS Society - Oklahoma Chapter, 4606 East 67th Street - #103, Tulsa, OK 74136
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Friends and Family,
The National MS Society is gearing up for the annual 2010 Ardmore MS Walk. I am planning to be a part of that event and I am asking you to join me in the fight against MS by making a contribution to support my effort.
The National Multiple Sclerosis Society is dedicated to ending the devastating effects of MS. They simultaneously fund research for a cure while also helping people who currently live with MS lead more fulfilling lives. I believe in the work they do, and I invite you to see for yourself all the good they've done for the MS community. More than 400,000 Americans live with MS, and your support can and will make changes in their lives.
Please help by making a donation - large or small - to fight MS. Or, why not join me on the day of the event? Become a participant and side by side, as teammates, we can work together to raise the funds to make a difference.
Whatever you can give will help! I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress.
Sincerely,
Gary Manning
Click here to get to my personal page and make a secure, online donation.
To send a donation: Make all checks payable to: National MS SocietyMail to: National MS Society - Oklahoma Chapter, 4606 East 67th Street - #103, Tulsa, OK 74136
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Pornography
No, I mean it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I related this story to my co-workers on Monday.
Back in the mid-70's I spent some time with the U.S Air Force. During that time I went to a friends house to hang out with some of the guys.
At one point I noticed a Hustler magazine laying on the table and picked it up and spent some time checking it out.
Somewhere very much into the magazine, I came across a page that was splashed with the word PORNOGRAPHY. At the time, the U.S. Government was involved in a case against the magazines founder, Larry Flint regarding this pornographic magazine. At the time, if memory serves, pornography was considered to be offensive and indecent to the common morays of our society.
On the pages following the short article about the case against Mr. Flint were pictures that he thought were truly offensive and indecent. There were a number of very graphic pictures from the War in Viet Nam. Visions of horror and humans that looked anything but human. Visions of what we and they had learned over the years to dismember and ultimately destroy a human life.
Then I related to them something "I" felt to be pornographic, offensive and indecent. On the front page of the Sunday Daily Oklahoman newspaper was a picture of a beautiful 11 year old child who had committed suicide. She had taken pills from the medicine cabinet. The very thought of a child that age even imagining ending her own life was a vision I found too disturbing to comprehend. Reading further I found out that the number 2 cause of death in Oklahoma, from age 10 up to 24 is suicide. In the very state that I love and have adopted as my home. Our children are taking drugs and killing themselves at an alarming rate.
I told them I had intended on bringing the paper to work so that everyone with children and grandchildren could sit at the table and read the story and show their kids that there are ways of working out problems and that the parents/grandparents will always be there for them, under any circumstances. I really have to believe that those words are true. They have to know and it must be true.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I related this story to my co-workers on Monday.
Back in the mid-70's I spent some time with the U.S Air Force. During that time I went to a friends house to hang out with some of the guys.
At one point I noticed a Hustler magazine laying on the table and picked it up and spent some time checking it out.
Somewhere very much into the magazine, I came across a page that was splashed with the word PORNOGRAPHY. At the time, the U.S. Government was involved in a case against the magazines founder, Larry Flint regarding this pornographic magazine. At the time, if memory serves, pornography was considered to be offensive and indecent to the common morays of our society.
On the pages following the short article about the case against Mr. Flint were pictures that he thought were truly offensive and indecent. There were a number of very graphic pictures from the War in Viet Nam. Visions of horror and humans that looked anything but human. Visions of what we and they had learned over the years to dismember and ultimately destroy a human life.
Then I related to them something "I" felt to be pornographic, offensive and indecent. On the front page of the Sunday Daily Oklahoman newspaper was a picture of a beautiful 11 year old child who had committed suicide. She had taken pills from the medicine cabinet. The very thought of a child that age even imagining ending her own life was a vision I found too disturbing to comprehend. Reading further I found out that the number 2 cause of death in Oklahoma, from age 10 up to 24 is suicide. In the very state that I love and have adopted as my home. Our children are taking drugs and killing themselves at an alarming rate.
I told them I had intended on bringing the paper to work so that everyone with children and grandchildren could sit at the table and read the story and show their kids that there are ways of working out problems and that the parents/grandparents will always be there for them, under any circumstances. I really have to believe that those words are true. They have to know and it must be true.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Used without permission, for non-commercial purposes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got my plastic Jesus
Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Comes in colors, pink and pleasant
Glows in the dark because it's iridescent
Take it with you when you travel far
Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestone,
sitting on a Pedestal of abalone shells
Going ninety,
I ain't scary
Because I got the Virgin Mary
Assuring me that I won't go to Hell
Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestone,
sitting on a Pedestal of abalone shells
Going ninety,
I ain't scary
Because I got the Virgin Mary
Assuring me that I won't go to Hell
Miss you Ma.
Nobody said it would get easier,
but I sure wasn't expecting it to get harder.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHf7TD4qwjk
I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got my plastic Jesus
Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Comes in colors, pink and pleasant
Glows in the dark because it's iridescent
Take it with you when you travel far
Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestone,
sitting on a Pedestal of abalone shells
Going ninety,
I ain't scary
Because I got the Virgin Mary
Assuring me that I won't go to Hell
Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestone,
sitting on a Pedestal of abalone shells
Going ninety,
I ain't scary
Because I got the Virgin Mary
Assuring me that I won't go to Hell
Miss you Ma.
Nobody said it would get easier,
but I sure wasn't expecting it to get harder.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHf7TD4qwjk
Friday, March 12, 2010
Didn't want to go there.
Really didn't.
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Someone I work with gave me a little booklet today. It was entitled "Steps to the Ride of Your Life, Jesus". OK, no problem.....except....the guy has spent the rest of the week trashing me to everyone at work that will listen to him. I have senority, several years of it. For the last 4+ years it has been maybe a forgone conclusion that I would take the Department Head position when the present head retires. Which he has said is in two years. Well to be fair, this guy has done plenty, he works very hard, comes in early, making every effort to learn everything he possibly can. Swears he will stay in this department forever. But...there are skills that can't be learned or taught. You gotta have them. He doesn't. Anyway, it lit me up, kick me in the nuts all week and then play christian on Friday. I've been there, much deeper than most. Plenty deeper than him. I don't talk about it much, no need. Either whomever doesn't believe or they don't believe. I have had the hand of God touching my face.........for a time, a long time. Long ago and far away. I have ministered to the sick and homebound, the hospital bound, the ones wihout much hope. As a Catholic, I have taken the very body of Christ to people who ordinarily would not have had the chance to receive it. The Catholic church has what is known as the Diaconate, it's where you get training to become a deacon. You have to be recommended. I was recommended by a priet who in his 25 years as a priest had never recommended anyone. I was also recommended by the head of the Diaconate. I was going to take the Lord's number of seven other people to recommend me before I truly decided, I had ten. I have been deep. What I say now is, if you are real, you do not have to say a word, believe me I will know. Do not ever kick me and then think you can pull this off on Friday. Just because I may not live like you think I should, maybe not as I think I should, I'm far from ignorant, you will not fool me. I truly apologize for going into this subject, I never intended for my blog to be one dealing with politics or religion. It was and is intended for my life stories and that is the way it's going to be. I'm sorry about allowing myself to be distracted to this point and I hope you will continue to follow as you have. Thank you for your kindness and the wonderful comments. It has being very encouraging for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Someone I work with gave me a little booklet today. It was entitled "Steps to the Ride of Your Life, Jesus". OK, no problem.....except....the guy has spent the rest of the week trashing me to everyone at work that will listen to him. I have senority, several years of it. For the last 4+ years it has been maybe a forgone conclusion that I would take the Department Head position when the present head retires. Which he has said is in two years. Well to be fair, this guy has done plenty, he works very hard, comes in early, making every effort to learn everything he possibly can. Swears he will stay in this department forever. But...there are skills that can't be learned or taught. You gotta have them. He doesn't. Anyway, it lit me up, kick me in the nuts all week and then play christian on Friday. I've been there, much deeper than most. Plenty deeper than him. I don't talk about it much, no need. Either whomever doesn't believe or they don't believe. I have had the hand of God touching my face.........for a time, a long time. Long ago and far away. I have ministered to the sick and homebound, the hospital bound, the ones wihout much hope. As a Catholic, I have taken the very body of Christ to people who ordinarily would not have had the chance to receive it. The Catholic church has what is known as the Diaconate, it's where you get training to become a deacon. You have to be recommended. I was recommended by a priet who in his 25 years as a priest had never recommended anyone. I was also recommended by the head of the Diaconate. I was going to take the Lord's number of seven other people to recommend me before I truly decided, I had ten. I have been deep. What I say now is, if you are real, you do not have to say a word, believe me I will know. Do not ever kick me and then think you can pull this off on Friday. Just because I may not live like you think I should, maybe not as I think I should, I'm far from ignorant, you will not fool me. I truly apologize for going into this subject, I never intended for my blog to be one dealing with politics or religion. It was and is intended for my life stories and that is the way it's going to be. I'm sorry about allowing myself to be distracted to this point and I hope you will continue to follow as you have. Thank you for your kindness and the wonderful comments. It has being very encouraging for me.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Mom's Memorial Run
Had to do it.
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Well this is it, the story you have been waiting for......for real?
At the time I made Mom's Run, I had already found an interest in the Iron Butt Association. I talked to some who weren't impressed and someone I knew from another area at work even stated that Iron Butt was for people who didn't ride much, so they could impress people who don't ride at all. Hmmm, takes all kinds. Anyway, at one point I was looking into making that run into an Iron Butt run. Might as well, riding the distance anyway, and surely going to be steady on the move. But I felt I might have been too distracted and the guys that I was in contact with were wanting to meet me in Savannah. I really didn't think I would pass Statesboro for that reason. I knew I would go no further than Statesboro.
Well the notion stayed with me, all I needed was maybe an excuse. So on the Memorial Weekend following the first anniversary of my mother's passing, I took my plan and took off.
I had planned on leaving Duncan, Ok at midnight Saturday. My reasoning was that the dark travel would be done while I was full of adrenalin and the adventure would be fresh. I didn't want to be returning after dark, tired and pushing. Proved to be a good idea.
I also planned on making my turn around spot Graceland Harley Davidson. Thought how cool it would be to run in and get one of those way cool T shirts. One that has a pic of Elvis on a Hog and the caption says " A Legend, Made For A King". Awesome. But leaving here at midnight put me in Memphis around 8-8:30 am. They don't open until 9 am and I wasn't going to lose time waiting. So my destination ended up at Horn Lake, MS, at another of Mr. Rossmeyers dealerships, Southern Thunder Harley Davidson.
Leaving was no big deal, I had got off work and laid down for a few hours rest. I got up about 10 pm and had some breakfast and headed out. I filled up with fuel and got my timed receipt at 11:58, close enough.
I guess the first "experience" came after I crossed the Arkansas line. At some point, I started feeling claustrophobic. I was thinking that a few hours in the dark had started messing with my head, so I tried to ignore it. I can assure you that you cannot ignore something in your head at that point. With only my headlight showing the way, no traffic for a looooog time, your head truly takes command. I started thinking about animals, even though I never saw one. I did figure out after a time that the closed in feeling was the trees that line the side of the interstate in Arkansas, don't have that in Oklahoma.
After a while, of course you become somewhat automated, drive, stop get fuel, use restroom, drink water or coffee and run. I did actually have one of those moments described by the Iron Butt Association travel tips. If you get to a point where you have a problem making a decision, stop. I passed an exit where I thought of getting fuel and it spooked me. The fact that I felt I had made the decision, but didn't act on it. I was in fact pushing the mileage and I had brought a small gas can, just in case, but I had actually told myself it was time to stop and I didn't. Needless to say, the next one I did NOT pass.
One of the most incredible occurances, that was later confirmed by other Iron Butt riders, was sunrise. Riding steady from midnight until whenever, the sun breaking through the sky was like taking some kind of drug. It's euphoric, you can feel yourself recharging. The blood seems to all of a sudden start charging through your body, your focus and all systems go on alert. The most incredible feeling, impossible to really describe.
I pulled into Memphis, not much traffic, but kinda cloudy. Wasn't going to complain, because the trip had been so flawless to that point. After a hiccup, I found Southern Thunder. It had started to sprinkle a little but the place was packed. Bikes everywhere. Finally found a parking place and was approached by a guy who asked my name and where I was from, chatted a little and walked away. I ended up having small talk with several very friendly folks by the time I got inside. The place was barely breathing room only. Everyone moved at the same time. As I was looking for the perfect T, I noticed 3 different colors being worn and also plenty of women inside. Hmmmm, then I started thinking, this can't be good. Past experience with clubs and a mixture of women and the close proximity.........time to go. I picked out what was actually a very popular T with the shoppers, paid, got my time stamp for my turn around spot and headed out.
The sprinkes continued all the way into Oklahoma, not bad for traveling. Keeping things cool and the air cooled engine loves it.
Coming in to sight of the Oklahoma Welcome Center i saw the wall cloud. Huge and dark and imposing. I pulled in, leathered up and filled the tank with the gas out of the can, didn't want to stop for fuel in what I knew was coming. Everytime I leave Ok, I get spanked when I return. Once I got into the storm, it was raining hard enough for the underpasses to be full of cars, the other bikes had stopped at the welcome center. I had a schedule to try to keep.
Hey, one point worth remembering. I was crossing the bridge over Lake Eufala. It was raining so hard I had slowed to 45 miles per hour. Lightening was everywhere. It was me and trucks, that was pretty much it. I look over and see some guy in a speed boat and he's moving, fast. Weaving and circling and having a fine ol' time. Out there all alone. And I'm thinking, what a freaking fool. Then I laughed outloud, because I bet he was thinking the same thing. What an idiot, riding that damn motorcycle in such weather.
I got within about 75 miles of Oklahoma City and the rain stopped and the wonderful, warm Oklahoma sun came out and the clouds rolled away. I got all dry, then...........crap, my legs started to cramp. Soaking wet, now warm and dry, the muscles decided to try to fold up on me. NO way was I going to stop with no more gas stops to make, I had it made. I stretched them out and put them on the crash bars. Oh man, couldn't stop now! Wouldn't. Didn't.
I got to the Harley Davidson dealer in Moore, Ok. My home away from home. And hey, they were having a party. Hooters girls! Harley's Angels! Beer! BBQ! OH YEAH! Like a homecoming. Then I started looking for the guys who were going to verify my time. Went in the shop and hung out a bit, duh. Talked to the guys and all, went back outside and I saw him. Clean cut, sitting on his cadillac, uh I mean Gold Wing, scanning the area. I walked up to him and said "Hey, you know you gotta park that Honda in the grass, this area is for Harleys only". He looks at me with surprise and says, "sorry man, I'm supposed to meet a guy named Gary Manning here". So I laughed and said, you just did. He laughed and shook my hand and we yakked a bit. We were looking around and we see what has to be the other guy. He is sitting on his BMW with his clean face and straight back and pants and vest with matching color and security stripe. He looks like a cop. So we start making faces at him and he finally recognizes his friend on the Wing and comes over. He says damn, I'm supposed to be looking for a guy with long grey whiskers on a black Harley. That is EVERY guy here! Again with the laughter. Was a fine time, was an incredible ride. Official certification: 1,058 miles in 17.5 hrs. Didn't figure that was bad for an ol' man.
And as far as this year, did you know there is actually a sign that says "standing on a corner in Winslow, Az"?
All the time, when I felt like turning around and saying, forget this, I kept telling myself...........Ma........this is for you. You would say it was not very smart, but it's all I got, it's all I can give for you now. I miss you and I never got to give you that ride, so I'll make it for you..........for as long as I can.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well this is it, the story you have been waiting for......for real?
At the time I made Mom's Run, I had already found an interest in the Iron Butt Association. I talked to some who weren't impressed and someone I knew from another area at work even stated that Iron Butt was for people who didn't ride much, so they could impress people who don't ride at all. Hmmm, takes all kinds. Anyway, at one point I was looking into making that run into an Iron Butt run. Might as well, riding the distance anyway, and surely going to be steady on the move. But I felt I might have been too distracted and the guys that I was in contact with were wanting to meet me in Savannah. I really didn't think I would pass Statesboro for that reason. I knew I would go no further than Statesboro.
Well the notion stayed with me, all I needed was maybe an excuse. So on the Memorial Weekend following the first anniversary of my mother's passing, I took my plan and took off.
I had planned on leaving Duncan, Ok at midnight Saturday. My reasoning was that the dark travel would be done while I was full of adrenalin and the adventure would be fresh. I didn't want to be returning after dark, tired and pushing. Proved to be a good idea.
I also planned on making my turn around spot Graceland Harley Davidson. Thought how cool it would be to run in and get one of those way cool T shirts. One that has a pic of Elvis on a Hog and the caption says " A Legend, Made For A King". Awesome. But leaving here at midnight put me in Memphis around 8-8:30 am. They don't open until 9 am and I wasn't going to lose time waiting. So my destination ended up at Horn Lake, MS, at another of Mr. Rossmeyers dealerships, Southern Thunder Harley Davidson.
Leaving was no big deal, I had got off work and laid down for a few hours rest. I got up about 10 pm and had some breakfast and headed out. I filled up with fuel and got my timed receipt at 11:58, close enough.
I guess the first "experience" came after I crossed the Arkansas line. At some point, I started feeling claustrophobic. I was thinking that a few hours in the dark had started messing with my head, so I tried to ignore it. I can assure you that you cannot ignore something in your head at that point. With only my headlight showing the way, no traffic for a looooog time, your head truly takes command. I started thinking about animals, even though I never saw one. I did figure out after a time that the closed in feeling was the trees that line the side of the interstate in Arkansas, don't have that in Oklahoma.
After a while, of course you become somewhat automated, drive, stop get fuel, use restroom, drink water or coffee and run. I did actually have one of those moments described by the Iron Butt Association travel tips. If you get to a point where you have a problem making a decision, stop. I passed an exit where I thought of getting fuel and it spooked me. The fact that I felt I had made the decision, but didn't act on it. I was in fact pushing the mileage and I had brought a small gas can, just in case, but I had actually told myself it was time to stop and I didn't. Needless to say, the next one I did NOT pass.
One of the most incredible occurances, that was later confirmed by other Iron Butt riders, was sunrise. Riding steady from midnight until whenever, the sun breaking through the sky was like taking some kind of drug. It's euphoric, you can feel yourself recharging. The blood seems to all of a sudden start charging through your body, your focus and all systems go on alert. The most incredible feeling, impossible to really describe.
I pulled into Memphis, not much traffic, but kinda cloudy. Wasn't going to complain, because the trip had been so flawless to that point. After a hiccup, I found Southern Thunder. It had started to sprinkle a little but the place was packed. Bikes everywhere. Finally found a parking place and was approached by a guy who asked my name and where I was from, chatted a little and walked away. I ended up having small talk with several very friendly folks by the time I got inside. The place was barely breathing room only. Everyone moved at the same time. As I was looking for the perfect T, I noticed 3 different colors being worn and also plenty of women inside. Hmmmm, then I started thinking, this can't be good. Past experience with clubs and a mixture of women and the close proximity.........time to go. I picked out what was actually a very popular T with the shoppers, paid, got my time stamp for my turn around spot and headed out.
The sprinkes continued all the way into Oklahoma, not bad for traveling. Keeping things cool and the air cooled engine loves it.
Coming in to sight of the Oklahoma Welcome Center i saw the wall cloud. Huge and dark and imposing. I pulled in, leathered up and filled the tank with the gas out of the can, didn't want to stop for fuel in what I knew was coming. Everytime I leave Ok, I get spanked when I return. Once I got into the storm, it was raining hard enough for the underpasses to be full of cars, the other bikes had stopped at the welcome center. I had a schedule to try to keep.
Hey, one point worth remembering. I was crossing the bridge over Lake Eufala. It was raining so hard I had slowed to 45 miles per hour. Lightening was everywhere. It was me and trucks, that was pretty much it. I look over and see some guy in a speed boat and he's moving, fast. Weaving and circling and having a fine ol' time. Out there all alone. And I'm thinking, what a freaking fool. Then I laughed outloud, because I bet he was thinking the same thing. What an idiot, riding that damn motorcycle in such weather.
I got within about 75 miles of Oklahoma City and the rain stopped and the wonderful, warm Oklahoma sun came out and the clouds rolled away. I got all dry, then...........crap, my legs started to cramp. Soaking wet, now warm and dry, the muscles decided to try to fold up on me. NO way was I going to stop with no more gas stops to make, I had it made. I stretched them out and put them on the crash bars. Oh man, couldn't stop now! Wouldn't. Didn't.
I got to the Harley Davidson dealer in Moore, Ok. My home away from home. And hey, they were having a party. Hooters girls! Harley's Angels! Beer! BBQ! OH YEAH! Like a homecoming. Then I started looking for the guys who were going to verify my time. Went in the shop and hung out a bit, duh. Talked to the guys and all, went back outside and I saw him. Clean cut, sitting on his cadillac, uh I mean Gold Wing, scanning the area. I walked up to him and said "Hey, you know you gotta park that Honda in the grass, this area is for Harleys only". He looks at me with surprise and says, "sorry man, I'm supposed to meet a guy named Gary Manning here". So I laughed and said, you just did. He laughed and shook my hand and we yakked a bit. We were looking around and we see what has to be the other guy. He is sitting on his BMW with his clean face and straight back and pants and vest with matching color and security stripe. He looks like a cop. So we start making faces at him and he finally recognizes his friend on the Wing and comes over. He says damn, I'm supposed to be looking for a guy with long grey whiskers on a black Harley. That is EVERY guy here! Again with the laughter. Was a fine time, was an incredible ride. Official certification: 1,058 miles in 17.5 hrs. Didn't figure that was bad for an ol' man.
And as far as this year, did you know there is actually a sign that says "standing on a corner in Winslow, Az"?
All the time, when I felt like turning around and saying, forget this, I kept telling myself...........Ma........this is for you. You would say it was not very smart, but it's all I got, it's all I can give for you now. I miss you and I never got to give you that ride, so I'll make it for you..........for as long as I can.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Memorial Run
Anniversaries are not always................
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We are coming up on an anniversary. Maybe not one you want to celebrate, even though we probably should. Easter Sunday, 2008, my mom started another journey. That will come later, this is the story about, what I've called "Mom's Run".
When you make a choice to live 1000 miles from home, you have to know, part of the cost, is "the call". You must know and accept the fact that it is going to come.
When it came, I knew I was leaving, not sure how to pay or whatever, but I had to go. The cheapest way for me was the Harley Davidson Electra Glide sitting in the garage. Long ride, hadn't done that before. But as it would turn out, it was the only way to go. Sure, it had it's drawbacks, that I survived, but then it became something else. I decided to call it, as I said, "Mom's Run".
A couple of the lessons I learned were, for one, when wearing steel toed safety boots, when the toe gets cold, it will stay cold. Regardless of what the temperature does during the day, they will not warm up. I ended up stopping and buying some of those hand warmers that hunters use. You open the little pack and when air hits the stuff, it gets warm and will stay that way for several hours. At the time, I didn't realize that they made different ones for your shoes. But they worked and I keep them in the saddle bags always. Like the rain gear and the leather, it stays with the bike. I also realized that, as a friend once told me, you don't need a radio on a motorcycle. You listen to the music in your head. Songs you've liked forever come to you as you ride along and without those annoying commercial breaks I detest. The motivation has to come from somewhere, to keep your spirits up and keep you going, maybe longer than you normally would. It's not anything like spending hour after hour in a car. The weather and your own body challanges you, tempting you to stop and rest, when you know you shouldn't.
I never will forget one defining moment on that trip. I was riding the unending highway leading from Macon, Ga. on down to Statesboro, Ga. I had an old favorite "road" song going through my head as I was being passed by a car. I was at the part where they say, " I'm out on the road and I'm not gonna stop, gonna roll til I'm old, gonna rock til I drop........", like that song, and I look over at the car passing me. The old man in the passenger side was looking at me. I'm used to that, I rarely pay any attention, for a reason. But this time was different, he was looking and I know he couldn't see much, black bike, black leather, black full faced helmet, dark visor. But when I did decide to look over, he raised his gnarled old hand, with years of painful arthritis clearly marked and manages a "thumbs up". He couldnt see my smile, but he did see my black leather glove sending back a thumbs up. Never will forget that moment.
The ride into Statesboro was beyond words. The warm sun, the azaleas and other flowers bloomed out and the grass greener than green, beautiful. My mom had picked a wonderful place and a wonderful time.
The ride back, somber, colder. The first leg got me back into Nashville, missed the break I'd planned in Whitwell, so I kept going. As I was drinking that wonderful motel room provided coffee, I was looking outside the window into the dark evening watching my motorcycle being covered with snow. Man. Come daylight, or close enough, I took one of the towels out and began cleaning off the snow and frost. My motel neighbor was loading his mini-van and stopped to watch me. Standing there shaking his head. Needless to say, my next stop was 750 miles away, Rush Springs, Ok. where I was hoping it would be warmer. I did make it, something like 13 hours, stopping for gas and a stretch and go.
There is much more to this story, but what it started was my memorial. A memorial to my mom. When I first saw her, I exclaimed, "hey, I just rode over 1200 miles to see you and you just gonna lay there?! Get up and let's go for a ride!" I always teased her about how a couple of us would get together and put her on the back and tie her to the back rest and go for a ride. Anyway, the ink I will get someday will say, "Mom's Run, 03.22.08".
And by the way, I did make a memorial run last year, on Memorial Saturday and I'm planning this year's run as well. Those stories are forthcoming, soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We are coming up on an anniversary. Maybe not one you want to celebrate, even though we probably should. Easter Sunday, 2008, my mom started another journey. That will come later, this is the story about, what I've called "Mom's Run".
When you make a choice to live 1000 miles from home, you have to know, part of the cost, is "the call". You must know and accept the fact that it is going to come.
When it came, I knew I was leaving, not sure how to pay or whatever, but I had to go. The cheapest way for me was the Harley Davidson Electra Glide sitting in the garage. Long ride, hadn't done that before. But as it would turn out, it was the only way to go. Sure, it had it's drawbacks, that I survived, but then it became something else. I decided to call it, as I said, "Mom's Run".
A couple of the lessons I learned were, for one, when wearing steel toed safety boots, when the toe gets cold, it will stay cold. Regardless of what the temperature does during the day, they will not warm up. I ended up stopping and buying some of those hand warmers that hunters use. You open the little pack and when air hits the stuff, it gets warm and will stay that way for several hours. At the time, I didn't realize that they made different ones for your shoes. But they worked and I keep them in the saddle bags always. Like the rain gear and the leather, it stays with the bike. I also realized that, as a friend once told me, you don't need a radio on a motorcycle. You listen to the music in your head. Songs you've liked forever come to you as you ride along and without those annoying commercial breaks I detest. The motivation has to come from somewhere, to keep your spirits up and keep you going, maybe longer than you normally would. It's not anything like spending hour after hour in a car. The weather and your own body challanges you, tempting you to stop and rest, when you know you shouldn't.
I never will forget one defining moment on that trip. I was riding the unending highway leading from Macon, Ga. on down to Statesboro, Ga. I had an old favorite "road" song going through my head as I was being passed by a car. I was at the part where they say, " I'm out on the road and I'm not gonna stop, gonna roll til I'm old, gonna rock til I drop........", like that song, and I look over at the car passing me. The old man in the passenger side was looking at me. I'm used to that, I rarely pay any attention, for a reason. But this time was different, he was looking and I know he couldn't see much, black bike, black leather, black full faced helmet, dark visor. But when I did decide to look over, he raised his gnarled old hand, with years of painful arthritis clearly marked and manages a "thumbs up". He couldnt see my smile, but he did see my black leather glove sending back a thumbs up. Never will forget that moment.
The ride into Statesboro was beyond words. The warm sun, the azaleas and other flowers bloomed out and the grass greener than green, beautiful. My mom had picked a wonderful place and a wonderful time.
The ride back, somber, colder. The first leg got me back into Nashville, missed the break I'd planned in Whitwell, so I kept going. As I was drinking that wonderful motel room provided coffee, I was looking outside the window into the dark evening watching my motorcycle being covered with snow. Man. Come daylight, or close enough, I took one of the towels out and began cleaning off the snow and frost. My motel neighbor was loading his mini-van and stopped to watch me. Standing there shaking his head. Needless to say, my next stop was 750 miles away, Rush Springs, Ok. where I was hoping it would be warmer. I did make it, something like 13 hours, stopping for gas and a stretch and go.
There is much more to this story, but what it started was my memorial. A memorial to my mom. When I first saw her, I exclaimed, "hey, I just rode over 1200 miles to see you and you just gonna lay there?! Get up and let's go for a ride!" I always teased her about how a couple of us would get together and put her on the back and tie her to the back rest and go for a ride. Anyway, the ink I will get someday will say, "Mom's Run, 03.22.08".
And by the way, I did make a memorial run last year, on Memorial Saturday and I'm planning this year's run as well. Those stories are forthcoming, soon.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
gotta let your soulshine....
better than sunshine, better than moonshine, damn sure better than rain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nah, he never said it, but he would've if he'd thought about it. Maybe I should'a said it to him.
Hell, what chance did he have? His pa was a drunk that would hop a train without notice and be gone for weeks. His ma passed when he was a kid and his step-ma was known to play the piano and sing those good ol' gospel songs when she was too drunk to stand up.
So what do you want?
He could be very stern about some things, but.....
I have a guy I work with, his dad used to keep him out of school and would work him and his brother like dogs on a construction project. Hmm, he's been known to take us out of school and make a day out of going to Six Flags, or fishing, especially if the crappy were biting.
Always the dreamer, taught me that. Had a vision to go to Australia once. Wanted to move to the country, lots. Ma wouldn't have it. Small towns is the best she would do. Smart too, could do math in his head faster than I could do it with a calculator. Knew the Bible better than ANYONE I EVER knew.
Good looking guy as well, even with that damn dead thing on his head.
Was a hero for a long time for me. I saw a few glimpses of his humanity, but he kept that to himself mostly.
Always a playful scamp, I'm sure to the end. Kind of wish I'd been somewhere closer then. Wish he would have had someone who really cared with him when he cashed out. But, he had to have things his way. Regardless. I guess he taught me that as well. Make your own choices, good or bad, but live with them. No one runs your life. But you don't have anyone to blame either.
So, yea, I got a tattoo that makes folks wonder. They probably don't understand. Good ol' Alabama White Trash. He wouldn't have been mad, he would've laughed. Be who you are, regardless. Live your life, you won't live forever, but then again, would you really want to? Not here.
I guess we all get one real love in our lives and somehow we are hell bent to lose it. He did. He ran with more, but he loved one. So when that's gone, when the love is really gone, what do you have left? He didn't think he had anything. No matter what anybody thinks, walk in his shoes for a bit.
I was pissed, like the others when I found out, but I refused to live thinking of him that way. Instead, I insisted on reminding myself of, the water trick I need to pass on. The funny things he did, said. The enormous heart he had. He would do anything for a stranger, could've robbed him blind and he wouldn't have cared. Loved women beyond... beyond.
Here's to you, my old man. I still think of you, often, mostly good. I guess that is the only legacy needed, to have someone think well of you after you are gone.
Happy 75th Birthday! Hope things are better for you these days. See you.........
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nah, he never said it, but he would've if he'd thought about it. Maybe I should'a said it to him.
Hell, what chance did he have? His pa was a drunk that would hop a train without notice and be gone for weeks. His ma passed when he was a kid and his step-ma was known to play the piano and sing those good ol' gospel songs when she was too drunk to stand up.
So what do you want?
He could be very stern about some things, but.....
I have a guy I work with, his dad used to keep him out of school and would work him and his brother like dogs on a construction project. Hmm, he's been known to take us out of school and make a day out of going to Six Flags, or fishing, especially if the crappy were biting.
Always the dreamer, taught me that. Had a vision to go to Australia once. Wanted to move to the country, lots. Ma wouldn't have it. Small towns is the best she would do. Smart too, could do math in his head faster than I could do it with a calculator. Knew the Bible better than ANYONE I EVER knew.
Good looking guy as well, even with that damn dead thing on his head.
Was a hero for a long time for me. I saw a few glimpses of his humanity, but he kept that to himself mostly.
Always a playful scamp, I'm sure to the end. Kind of wish I'd been somewhere closer then. Wish he would have had someone who really cared with him when he cashed out. But, he had to have things his way. Regardless. I guess he taught me that as well. Make your own choices, good or bad, but live with them. No one runs your life. But you don't have anyone to blame either.
So, yea, I got a tattoo that makes folks wonder. They probably don't understand. Good ol' Alabama White Trash. He wouldn't have been mad, he would've laughed. Be who you are, regardless. Live your life, you won't live forever, but then again, would you really want to? Not here.
I guess we all get one real love in our lives and somehow we are hell bent to lose it. He did. He ran with more, but he loved one. So when that's gone, when the love is really gone, what do you have left? He didn't think he had anything. No matter what anybody thinks, walk in his shoes for a bit.
I was pissed, like the others when I found out, but I refused to live thinking of him that way. Instead, I insisted on reminding myself of, the water trick I need to pass on. The funny things he did, said. The enormous heart he had. He would do anything for a stranger, could've robbed him blind and he wouldn't have cared. Loved women beyond... beyond.
Here's to you, my old man. I still think of you, often, mostly good. I guess that is the only legacy needed, to have someone think well of you after you are gone.
Happy 75th Birthday! Hope things are better for you these days. See you.........
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Happiness Is Fleeting?
I know, I know, that ain't the quote.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But I'll say it again, happiness is fleeting.
Alot of people believe that. But what about the person who carries it with them?
Years ago there was this "squid" as they called them then. He fell in love and married a woman who was pregnant, not his. She delivered a wonderful baby girl and the couple had three more, two more beautiful girls and a fine son. As happens in this world, the couple fell apart. The children still quite devoted to them both. As time went on, this good man ran across an old (not in years) friend, also divorced with four mostly grown children of her own. The two had felt that it was the long friendship that had passed the test of time that had brought them together. Funny enough, she even asked me for my thoughts on the issue of marriage. I only knew good things about him. One test is to discover how those kids felt about him. They love him dearly. What's the question? Will he be good to her, no one doubted. Will he take care of her, no one doubted. Will he love her, no one doubted. What no one could have known, was the total effect he would have on every one in the family. He would set the bar to an unreachable height. Surely no one could challenge his affection for not just her but for the new addition to the family. Her children would only end up with a taste of what his own children had grown up with. Is he perfect, nah, maybe. Does he do everything right, surely not, maybe. Does he epitomize........Dad? Yes. How could we have imagined how happy, fufilled and....and ....spoiled our mother could be? You have a problem with a man loving another man? Forget you. I love this man for many other reasons than the fact that he made my mothers' last 27 years a fairytale existence. Where as far as I was aware, she was the happiest that she had ever desired. He raised our baby sister and turned her into the loving person she is now. Perfect, maybe not, but.......with a heart of gold. And the rest of us, already out of the house, had our own lives touched by the tall, thin man, with the soft, quiet way of penetrating your heart that is just........his way. If he ever said no......it was hard to realize........because he always has a way of making things right. There is no way to repay, the gift he has been. We can only hope to pay it forward, to others that we touch. To always give without thought of recompense, to give because........... To always give, maybe not what is requested, but to give what is needed, what is right. I could go on and on. Suffice it to say, I love you Pa and I only wish that I could touch the gift that you are.
Happy Valentine's Day to the man I love and respect above all others.
And.......thanks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But I'll say it again, happiness is fleeting.
Alot of people believe that. But what about the person who carries it with them?
Years ago there was this "squid" as they called them then. He fell in love and married a woman who was pregnant, not his. She delivered a wonderful baby girl and the couple had three more, two more beautiful girls and a fine son. As happens in this world, the couple fell apart. The children still quite devoted to them both. As time went on, this good man ran across an old (not in years) friend, also divorced with four mostly grown children of her own. The two had felt that it was the long friendship that had passed the test of time that had brought them together. Funny enough, she even asked me for my thoughts on the issue of marriage. I only knew good things about him. One test is to discover how those kids felt about him. They love him dearly. What's the question? Will he be good to her, no one doubted. Will he take care of her, no one doubted. Will he love her, no one doubted. What no one could have known, was the total effect he would have on every one in the family. He would set the bar to an unreachable height. Surely no one could challenge his affection for not just her but for the new addition to the family. Her children would only end up with a taste of what his own children had grown up with. Is he perfect, nah, maybe. Does he do everything right, surely not, maybe. Does he epitomize........Dad? Yes. How could we have imagined how happy, fufilled and....and ....spoiled our mother could be? You have a problem with a man loving another man? Forget you. I love this man for many other reasons than the fact that he made my mothers' last 27 years a fairytale existence. Where as far as I was aware, she was the happiest that she had ever desired. He raised our baby sister and turned her into the loving person she is now. Perfect, maybe not, but.......with a heart of gold. And the rest of us, already out of the house, had our own lives touched by the tall, thin man, with the soft, quiet way of penetrating your heart that is just........his way. If he ever said no......it was hard to realize........because he always has a way of making things right. There is no way to repay, the gift he has been. We can only hope to pay it forward, to others that we touch. To always give without thought of recompense, to give because........... To always give, maybe not what is requested, but to give what is needed, what is right. I could go on and on. Suffice it to say, I love you Pa and I only wish that I could touch the gift that you are.
Happy Valentine's Day to the man I love and respect above all others.
And.......thanks.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
This is tough.........
Another Birthday
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She was born, in what I'm thinking is still, a small southwestern Georgia town. Her parents were a man that I can only say, must have been pretty decent, I have the flag that draped his coffin on my dresser. I've seen one picture of him, I also have that. A rather stern looking man, but hey, he went through the depression and the first "BIG" war, so maybe he had a right. Her mom, no one could be that short but to be of Irish descent and to be so full of love, from what I have always called the huggiest bunch of folks ever. I used to tell folks, she'd hug Charles Manson and tell him she loved him......and mean it.
Anyway, she was born with a bit of a challenge and she lost that dad of hers less than a year after her birth. I think that is where she got it.
Toughest ol' girl (boy, she'd appreciate that) I ever knew. Toughest anybody I ever knew. Her birth troubles left her with a bit of a half smile. She hated that, but I liked it. She never thought much of her looks, but I feel that the youngest pic of her, looks alot like the last pic of her, as they say, "bettern decent".
She had a boy that was the apple of her eye and was always her favorite and rightly so, caused her much less concern than maybe the others. Lots like her and that's a good thing.
Then came another challenge.......me. Hard and sometimes cold, always difficult. Went though the largest military cargo plane on earth once and she told the guide, "give that boy a screwdriver and a pair of pliars and this thing will be completely tore down tomorrow." But there was a time when this ol' boy would drop by and take her to eat. Once in one of her favorite places to eat, where she knew everybody in the place, we had lunch. I had chicken fried steak with potatoes and Louisiana hot sauce on top. She asked me if it was hot and I said, nah, I just like the taste. Quick a lightening her finger was in my gravy and back into her mouth. Then her face got red and she was telling everybody, "this boy lied to me, why did you lie to me?" I will never forget that. There is a scene in one of my favorite Christmas movies. After the kid has a bit of a trying day, the mom walks by him sitting at the table and brushes her hand across his arm. I regret, that for whatever reason, that we didn't have that.
Then she had a daughter, oh man a good kid, but not exactly a lady (sorry sis, haha). She wasn't quite the outgoing type who would set you to worrying though and can tell her own stories.
Then she lost a handsome little man and we almost lost her. But at the height of her misery, we all received quite the wonderful surprise. This little girl completed the family. She is still the baby, these years later, and much the image and deportment of her mom.
Later in life she would have other challenges, cancer, stroke. I will never forget standing at the head of her bed in the emergency room when the doc raised the sheet from the foot and exclaimed, "wow, you got anything left!" The scars of a lifetime of struggle.
I was there her last night on earth. And as usual, we fought all night. I didn't know what she was saying, but I do know, she meant it. She wore me out......one last time. Still a fighter after all she had been through.
I tried to keep this as short as possible, how can you skip everything? Merely touched on some of the notable parts. I know she never liked birthdays, used to fuss if anybody said anything. But after a life of taking everything that was thrown at her and living until she was ready to go, I have to say........Happy Birthday Mom! The strongest person I ever knew, and thanks for..............everything.
Love and miss you always.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was born, in what I'm thinking is still, a small southwestern Georgia town. Her parents were a man that I can only say, must have been pretty decent, I have the flag that draped his coffin on my dresser. I've seen one picture of him, I also have that. A rather stern looking man, but hey, he went through the depression and the first "BIG" war, so maybe he had a right. Her mom, no one could be that short but to be of Irish descent and to be so full of love, from what I have always called the huggiest bunch of folks ever. I used to tell folks, she'd hug Charles Manson and tell him she loved him......and mean it.
Anyway, she was born with a bit of a challenge and she lost that dad of hers less than a year after her birth. I think that is where she got it.
Toughest ol' girl (boy, she'd appreciate that) I ever knew. Toughest anybody I ever knew. Her birth troubles left her with a bit of a half smile. She hated that, but I liked it. She never thought much of her looks, but I feel that the youngest pic of her, looks alot like the last pic of her, as they say, "bettern decent".
She had a boy that was the apple of her eye and was always her favorite and rightly so, caused her much less concern than maybe the others. Lots like her and that's a good thing.
Then came another challenge.......me. Hard and sometimes cold, always difficult. Went though the largest military cargo plane on earth once and she told the guide, "give that boy a screwdriver and a pair of pliars and this thing will be completely tore down tomorrow." But there was a time when this ol' boy would drop by and take her to eat. Once in one of her favorite places to eat, where she knew everybody in the place, we had lunch. I had chicken fried steak with potatoes and Louisiana hot sauce on top. She asked me if it was hot and I said, nah, I just like the taste. Quick a lightening her finger was in my gravy and back into her mouth. Then her face got red and she was telling everybody, "this boy lied to me, why did you lie to me?" I will never forget that. There is a scene in one of my favorite Christmas movies. After the kid has a bit of a trying day, the mom walks by him sitting at the table and brushes her hand across his arm. I regret, that for whatever reason, that we didn't have that.
Then she had a daughter, oh man a good kid, but not exactly a lady (sorry sis, haha). She wasn't quite the outgoing type who would set you to worrying though and can tell her own stories.
Then she lost a handsome little man and we almost lost her. But at the height of her misery, we all received quite the wonderful surprise. This little girl completed the family. She is still the baby, these years later, and much the image and deportment of her mom.
Later in life she would have other challenges, cancer, stroke. I will never forget standing at the head of her bed in the emergency room when the doc raised the sheet from the foot and exclaimed, "wow, you got anything left!" The scars of a lifetime of struggle.
I was there her last night on earth. And as usual, we fought all night. I didn't know what she was saying, but I do know, she meant it. She wore me out......one last time. Still a fighter after all she had been through.
I tried to keep this as short as possible, how can you skip everything? Merely touched on some of the notable parts. I know she never liked birthdays, used to fuss if anybody said anything. But after a life of taking everything that was thrown at her and living until she was ready to go, I have to say........Happy Birthday Mom! The strongest person I ever knew, and thanks for..............everything.
Love and miss you always.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Old Hat
Yea, the timing is bad, but................
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Yea, I know what you are gonna be thinking, but, as I said, when it hits, I will write.
I have to bring it up, last Thanksgiving was a banner one for me. I actually enjoyed my Thanksgiving Dinner at Shoney's in Monroe, La. Had a fine meal with all the trimmings, was really nice.
The next day and especially the evening was where this Story is.
I had been with my sister and her wonderful family in my mother's house, having a great time with them. My brother-in-law played a cd that my neice made of her singing and my nephew showed me a rap song he was working on, and my other neice was just a pleasure to be with. Of course my sister and brother-in-law are always great to be around, as they really impress me the way they work so hard to keep things going in spite of life being what it is.
Soon others came in, as they showed up at various times, in their own way, with their respective families, etc. in tow.
At some point, everyone had had their fill and the chairs were lined up, kind of in a circle around the living room. Everyone was talking and then, of course, old times were brought up. Of course my brother brought a story involving me and everyone got quite a chuckle out of it and the stories continued.
As I looked around the room, it hit me. I really felt that I should speak up, but.....I didn't.......I couldnt........
It occured to me......
The aunts and uncles and moms and dads............were us. We were the ones closest to the precipice. On the edge, as it were. In a way, I was proud to be here, but I wasn't sure who else might be.
The speech, as some would call it, never came.
Here it is........
As I look around this room, I see that this is the first gathering of the clan, as it were, where WE are the mothers and dads and uncles and aunts. And I'm quite proud to be a witness to the closeness and the love of all that are here. And to the ones whom are younger and maybe wouldn't notice, let me say this. What you are feeling, is FAMILY. There is no other feeling.
A wonderful, much loved, well respected matriarch of this family once told me, before I embarked on a journey that would keep me across the country, that, in the end, always remember, in the end, there is nothing......but family.
There is a favorite book, and movie. Where the matriarch of the Joad family states, with fist in hand and stern look, "we have to stick together, 'cause we are THE FAMILY".
All this in mind, I go back. And I hope, pray and very much desire, that the young people in THIS family, remember this night. And that you never forsake that order, that you HAVE to stick together, because YOU are the family. Never, Never, allow petty disagreements or anything else to separate you from each other. NOTHING will ever replace the unconditional love that you get from family. Nothing will ever help you sleep better. Nothing will ever make you feel safer.
I realize that some are scattered, I know this better than most. And I realize that you have many different types of personalities and ways of being. No matter. The blood that runs through your veins is that of mutual respect, kindheartedness, and love that can only come through family.
Know this, you will never, ever, have a friend that will come closer than family.
Some celebrations have drawn a gathering of much more than a houseful to my mom's abode. She worked very hard to get that place and to keep it. Honor her.....and the rest who have gone on before. Continue, without hesitation, or need of persuasion, to invite and bring food and all who will come........into my mom's house. Because, in the end, when it's all said and done, you...have to stick together, 'cause...YOU are the family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yea, I know what you are gonna be thinking, but, as I said, when it hits, I will write.
I have to bring it up, last Thanksgiving was a banner one for me. I actually enjoyed my Thanksgiving Dinner at Shoney's in Monroe, La. Had a fine meal with all the trimmings, was really nice.
The next day and especially the evening was where this Story is.
I had been with my sister and her wonderful family in my mother's house, having a great time with them. My brother-in-law played a cd that my neice made of her singing and my nephew showed me a rap song he was working on, and my other neice was just a pleasure to be with. Of course my sister and brother-in-law are always great to be around, as they really impress me the way they work so hard to keep things going in spite of life being what it is.
Soon others came in, as they showed up at various times, in their own way, with their respective families, etc. in tow.
At some point, everyone had had their fill and the chairs were lined up, kind of in a circle around the living room. Everyone was talking and then, of course, old times were brought up. Of course my brother brought a story involving me and everyone got quite a chuckle out of it and the stories continued.
As I looked around the room, it hit me. I really felt that I should speak up, but.....I didn't.......I couldnt........
It occured to me......
The aunts and uncles and moms and dads............were us. We were the ones closest to the precipice. On the edge, as it were. In a way, I was proud to be here, but I wasn't sure who else might be.
The speech, as some would call it, never came.
Here it is........
As I look around this room, I see that this is the first gathering of the clan, as it were, where WE are the mothers and dads and uncles and aunts. And I'm quite proud to be a witness to the closeness and the love of all that are here. And to the ones whom are younger and maybe wouldn't notice, let me say this. What you are feeling, is FAMILY. There is no other feeling.
A wonderful, much loved, well respected matriarch of this family once told me, before I embarked on a journey that would keep me across the country, that, in the end, always remember, in the end, there is nothing......but family.
There is a favorite book, and movie. Where the matriarch of the Joad family states, with fist in hand and stern look, "we have to stick together, 'cause we are THE FAMILY".
All this in mind, I go back. And I hope, pray and very much desire, that the young people in THIS family, remember this night. And that you never forsake that order, that you HAVE to stick together, because YOU are the family. Never, Never, allow petty disagreements or anything else to separate you from each other. NOTHING will ever replace the unconditional love that you get from family. Nothing will ever help you sleep better. Nothing will ever make you feel safer.
I realize that some are scattered, I know this better than most. And I realize that you have many different types of personalities and ways of being. No matter. The blood that runs through your veins is that of mutual respect, kindheartedness, and love that can only come through family.
Know this, you will never, ever, have a friend that will come closer than family.
Some celebrations have drawn a gathering of much more than a houseful to my mom's abode. She worked very hard to get that place and to keep it. Honor her.....and the rest who have gone on before. Continue, without hesitation, or need of persuasion, to invite and bring food and all who will come........into my mom's house. Because, in the end, when it's all said and done, you...have to stick together, 'cause...YOU are the family.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Birthday Riddle?
Can you believe this??
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Riddle me this.........
I don't recall my father talking about his grandfather at all.
I don't have much recollection of my grandfather, other than a picture of him I can describe.
My son, I'm sure, hasn't a clue about his grandfather.
And I know, that his son would not have any idea about me.
A total of 6 generations of men, carrying the same blood, that don't have any idea about each other.
Happy Birthday!
Bet you didn't know Eddie Van Halen was born........same day as you, same year as me.
Hope yours was great, where ever you may be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riddle me this.........
I don't recall my father talking about his grandfather at all.
I don't have much recollection of my grandfather, other than a picture of him I can describe.
My son, I'm sure, hasn't a clue about his grandfather.
And I know, that his son would not have any idea about me.
A total of 6 generations of men, carrying the same blood, that don't have any idea about each other.
Happy Birthday!
Bet you didn't know Eddie Van Halen was born........same day as you, same year as me.
Hope yours was great, where ever you may be.
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