I decided to create this blogspot to share with others stories of my life experiences. I consider them to be pertinent as they are my life, they are what I am, who I am. I have considered writing a book. Maybe not, maybe this will allow me to share memories without pressures of what comes next. As I have tended to live my life without much structure, mostly to react to stimuli, as they say. These pages will come as they come back to me, as they strike, I will write. I can also be a bit of a storyteller as the mood hits me. Maybe some things here won't agree with you, but at least you'll get to know me and isn't that why you are here?

Saturday, January 22, 2011

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.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

....graduated in '65, moved to California to start college..

spent the next three years in the Army, most of that in VietNam...
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I can't tell you how many stories I've heard in my life that started out similar to that one. All different, all the same. Love those stories, sorry sometimes that I don't have one. I told him that associating with those guys was extra special to me because I was not a combat soldier. As much as I was honored to be a part of taking the last ride with the man inside, I was honored to be standing with these folks. I thought, man, somebody should be writing this stuff down. It is history, like we studied in school, only this was people in my world, some older, some younger....heroes.

I looked at what was a most beautiful child. Mom was holding her, maybe twenty feet from me. Her little body wrapped with a black knit cap with an oversized lace rose on the side. A nice black velour dress, white stockings and tiny black patent leather shoes. Almost totally covered with a warm looking pink blanket. When she looked over in my direction, I saw her cherubic cheeks were pink because of the chilly Oklahoma breeze. She didn't squirm around and get fussy...at all. She did spend a good part of the graveside service singing that song that happy babies sing. I thought, I guess I'm here as much for her as for Sgt. Tucker.

They both had recently started a new journey. Hers, into this world, everything new and fasinating. Wide-eyed and curious, nothing escaped her gaze. His...how can we be sure? He was meeting up now with many others of his kind, including the man that raised my wife. A man I surely wish I would've known. Perhaps the others who have been laid to rest here were crowding around, getting to know the new guy.

Impressive new guy too. World War 2 Veteran. One of the first to engage the Japanese. He served with the 164th Infantry Division reinforcing the First Marine Division during landing assualts on Guadalcanal. The Secretary of the Navy authorized the troops of the U.S. Army 164th Infantry Regiment to wear the 1st Marine shoulder patch due to their service in the South Pacific. That is only the beginning. Among his awards and medals were the Purple Heart, Asiatic Pacific Service Ribbon, 4 Bronze Stars, American Defense Service Ribbon, Presidential Unit Citation, 5 Overseas Bars, and the Prestigious Navy Presidential Citation issued by Major General Alexander Vandergrift.

It crossed my mind that there were 14 bikes and maybe double that in cages, but it didn't matter......no matter how many showed up, this guy was bigger than all of us put together.