Now.....who was this guy?

He had a nice face.
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While standing in the respect line, holding my flag, watching the family make their way into the funeral home. That is where my thoughts start to formulate the story that I hope someone will read. I'm normally putting together the information I gather from my few sources and adding my own personal feelings to help you understand what is going on.

This day, last Wednesday, I had nothing to go on, well, not very much. I was standing there, hanging on tightly, that cold Canadian wind that has nothing to even slow it down until it hits the Gulf of Mexico, keeping those flags standing straight out. What I did think was that this hero, while in VietNam must have had many days where he was uncomfortable. Maybe because of the weather, the duty couldn't have been easy. I'm sure he was hungry at times, tired beyond my comprehension and still he served, honorably.

There were, among family and friends, members of, his choice of riding companions, the Downed Bikers Association. Which tells me that he did concern himself with the fate of others and issues which effect us all that spend much of our lives on two wheels.

Spec4 Patrick Lee Creekmore. Well he did have the rank that the Marine Corps gives to "reward personnel with higher degrees of experience and technical knowledge." That was during the VietNam War, so it tells me he was an above average soldier in a very difficult situation.

At the cemetery, I was trying to put more thoughts together out of the limited knowledge I had of the man and it hit me. As I stood there watching the ceremony and looking on the faces of the ones that knew him best, I realized...it didn't matter. I didn't have to know any more about him than I knew already.

He was a son, brother, father, grandfather and honorable soldier during time of war. He cared for others and what really hit me........as that solitary tear worked its way out of my left eye, was that he would be remembered. In the memories of those present that knew him and on the patches sewn onto the vests and jackets of those that stood with them as he was slowly, respectfully lowered into the sun drenched soil that I hoped would warm him as he moved on to the next journey.

And......I thought.....he had a really nice face.