I got him this time.... and a couple more too ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I really enjoy parades. I used to live in a small town in Georgia that seemed to have one almost every month. It didn't matter what was going on, same folks, every time. Fire engine, big ladder truck with some local dignitary on top tossing candy to kids. Convertible car, usually an antique of some kind, some overdressed young lady waving. High school band playing on and on. Didn't matter why, just fun. The little town I grew up in had a parade once that I was a part of. Don't remember much about it. I remember it was in the fall, because it was cool and overcast. The team I played football for, the 85 lb Acworth midgets were to ride on a trailer behind a tractor and wave and toss candy. Well, as it sometimes turns out, there was a tiny snag. My pastor, a guy we all liked, had the church put together a very simple float. They took a trailer and put kind of a wall up in the back and had a short church pew bolted down and a podium at the front. One young man was to stand there and pretend to preach to two others sitting in the pew. As if you'd catch me in the front pew, really? Anyway, I've already given it away. He asked me to sit up there with some girl. So, full uniform, pads and all pretending to enjoy a false fire and brimstone message from the front pew. I discovered then that truly it's more fun to watch a parade than to be in one. Not one piece of candy. There is something I've been involved in for the about three years that I've heard mistakenly imagined to be a parade. It's actually a funeral procession. As I've said many times and most of my blogs are about my involvement with the Patriot Guard Riders. I ride with them as often as I can. Much unlike a parade, these are solemn events and my participation in them is a matter of dignity and pride. I'ts very moving to be with a family at the worst possible time, sharing their most private and intimate moment with a loved one they will only see again in the afterlife. It's something I feel has to be done. Someone has to do it. I've been to many funerals. My mother used to want me to go with her. She went to funerals that the rest of the family missed. Someone has to be there. I've also been a part of the Knights of Columbus, an organization within the Catholic church, where I was a part of many funerals. But let me get back. Saturday was not a funeral. The Patriot Guard was invited to be a part of the Veteran's Day parade in Duncan, Oklahoma. I know that I mentioned that it was better to watch a parade than to participate in one. I actually was a part of building a parade last year and learned that it's for real not where you want to be! Anyway, I will ride with the Guard anytime I'm able, even in a parade. Besides, this was more than a parade, it was another opportunity to show how much I appreciate our military. There is, here we go again, a happening in Washington D.C. every year on Memorial weekend that I have been a part of for the last two years that has been mistaken as a parade. This year I was somewhere in the first fourth of close to a half of million motorcycles involved in the Rolling Thunder demonstration, riding through the streets of D.C. Ok, I promise, this is it. This year, as I did two years ago, I rode with some Patriot Guard members along with riders from the much beloved and quickly growing Biker church. There was also the Combat Veterans motorcycle club and a few others. All there to ride in support and appreciation of all veterans. As happened two years ago I passed this maybe not so young man wearing his tan suit with his Marine Corps tie and his WWII baseball style cap. When I saw him before, standing tall and proud, as we were moving slowly by, I couldn't help but salute him and of course he snapped one back. Still brings a tear to the eye. I was wearing a pair of sunglasses that happen to have the ability to record audio and video and hopefully someday I will find someone to take that video and steal one frame from it so I can have a picture of this man. I wondered what he had seen, could I even handle the stories that he can't or won't forget. I'd love to spend some time with him, just listening to him talk. I try to give any of those folks time nowadays. They want to talk, I'll listen. Try it, it's well worth the time you give them. Moving right along, this year's parade was bigger and we were behind the high school band and they were walking, of course and playing, so the pace was slower. Fine with me, that way you get a chance to interact a bit with the onlookers. Well, we rounded the corner and down a bit and there he was. I knew I had time, so I just kinda eased on over and stuck out my hand. He reached out and grabbed me with a still quite forceful grip and I told him, "thank you sir for your service". He was smiling and his wife quickly shouted out, "he was a tunnel rat"! Oh my God. I've heard over the years about tunnel rats. No, there would be no way I could sleep if he told me his stories. As much as I had inside for that old man, now I had more. The kid in front of me on the crotch rocket and the guy wearing the colors for the Combat Vets MC in front of him noticed what I had done, so we went hunting. By the end of the parade, we had stopped and had the immense pleasure of shaking the hands of three more of those forever young men. It will be a scene that will play before my eyes for the rest of my days. And it will always bring a tear to my eye. I guess I was wrong, sometimes it IS better to be a part of the parade than to just watch. Still....got no candy. Happy Veteran's Day! From the wet behind the ears boot to the seasoned veteran and all those in between. Much love and many thanks, from me to you!

You're not gonna like this... But I feel like it's my turn ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now that the election is over, I'd like to give my take on a few things. I feel that the Republican Party is at a crossroads. I'm wondering how you can have all these rich folks donating dump truck loads of money into an election and the other guy is picking up pennies in the parking lot and still lose. You need to find a viable candidate. Excuse me, I saw the pop. vote and we all know that the powers that be decided that we are not smart enough to vote for who we like or that, as usual, they have a better way. I'm with all those upset this morning and have been on the other side of the fence before. I'm for doing away with the electoral college. But as I said, you need a viable candidate. Mr. Romney has a great smile and nice hair and a beautiful wife. But he is an ultra rich guy that can find no common ground with the multitude of people that struggle daily to stay alive. The fact that he associates with only those of his type shows. I've said it many times over the last few years. When the party sent out, what I've referred to as, "the boob and the bimbo, take your pick as to which was which". I had no choice. I've also said facetiously, I would've voted for a Castro/Chavez ticket rather than those two. The party couldn't have been serious. I'm sure they laid out the sacrificial lambs, planning to really do something in 2012. Well, the results are in. Up until 2008, I had been a straight ticket Republican voter since Gerald Ford got sent home. I stuck with my party none the less. I was with a family member that while Ronald Reagan was smothering James Earl, the family member softly said from behind me, "God help us". To which I replied, "God just did". By the time President Reagan was eating Walter's lunch, she was on board. Sorry, maybe there are no more Reagan's...or are there? Maybe the powers that be should look around a little more and folks at home should do a bit more homework. The times insist that you study up on your choices. When W. was coming up for reelection, by then I was concerned. I actually wrote an email to the White House stating that gasoline was so high, I only hoped that I would be able to afford to get to the polls to help reelect him. No, he didn't respond. Then came that morning when a couple of huge buildings in New York fell down. That raised my eyebrows a bit. At first, I was thanking God that he was in the White house and not that scoundrel Clinton. Well, then the more I heard the more I wondered. I won't apologize for my take on all that. I was, at the time ignorant of the Bush family. I assumed it was so he could start a war and use the military to take over those oil rich countries so we could have assurance of enough gas to last a while. All the while, wondering where all the country's oil is and is it being used daily or stashed. It was only recently, in the last year or so, that I discovered information regarding the Bush family fortune. Munitions....since WWI. Grandpa Bush was involved with the U.S. Military. It then truly hit me. W may or may not have been directly involv,.ed in those bombings in order to start another war, like dear ol' dad, so they could build up their bank account. Makes sense. Back to where I was going. Even W had the charisma and those eyes, until someone threw a shoe at him, to hypnotize us. He gave those rich supporters tax cuts for starting businesses anywhere on the globe. Hmmm, start a business in the states, like what happened when Mr. Reagan gave them cuts, or start one where I don't have to pay so much for good help, along with insurance and benefits like us spoiled American workers demand. And the manufacturing jobs vanished and here we are. Millions of jobs gone. Millions of proud, hardworking Americans not knowing where their next meal is coming from. And at the top of the list, in my opinion, is our total volunteer military, they go to another country, do what is expected of them and then come back to a home that isn't there. The house was repossessed while they were gone. Pathetic, but at least the Bush family can now use bundles of cash to heat their homes for a few generations. And speaking of Benghazi, take a look at W's record on such incidents. Abortion, you really want to go there? I don't like it, but, I feel that it is no way my business to tell my wife what she can or can't do with her body. Period. And it disgusts me to hear candidates use that issue to garner votes from those that actually believe they will do something positive about it. AS far as President Obama. I was sold on his smile, his family and quite frankly on his attitude. I am better off than I was four years ago. I have a job that I really like with a strong company. I have those good benefits, almost union like, that those other folks took out of this country. I know how quickly things can change. I could be like some others and get laid off with a slow down. Then I would be concerned with staying alive. I have medications to improve my health and by the way, healthcare and insurance that I will lose, should I get laid off. Then to be at the mercy of whatever government programs are available to me. Scary thought. I'm not a worthless bum,with the government paying my way and I strive not to be. But, I'm at the age where I realize I haven't put back enough over the years to be able to ever retire. But with the social security I have paid into and maybe staying healthy enough to continue doing some type of work, I might have a decent quality of life up until my number comes up. And like it or not, I'd really like to have some kind of healthcare to fall back on and maybe some education assistance to learn something new to keep me busy until the end of my days. And hopefully my wife will be able to stay in our home for the rest of her days as well. Our president? Sure, he can raise my eyebrows sometimes. But I believe that he believes that he's able to help with a group that has been kicked around for generations. Old and infirmed, young and struggling with starting out and not having a clue what they are doing. And one more thing about that, I can't believe the number of folks calling themselves Christians that do not believe in the idea of being "my brother's keeper". And you gun folks, I have no beef with you. You have an absolute right to own firearms and you should be able to buy whatever type of weapon you desire. You got the money, buy as you wish, rich people are allowed whatever they choose to purchase. But do a bit more of policing yourselves. I'm sick of hearing about innocent people dying because of gun violence. Do it or it's possible to lose that right. So maybe some courses on safety, push that....hard. Ok, if you got this far, you should be rewarded for giving me the floor to vent. But sorry, no reward. All you get for your trouble is knowing me better. If you are mad, I can't apologize. I've said it many times, I'm not an educated man, I only know what I see.

Archie and Wes ..well, worked for us ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I went for my morning walk today, well hardly morning, was just after noon. Just looking out the storm door and I knew that the Oklahoma summer had officially ended. The cool breeze along with the grey skies told me to grab a jacket. Good idea, as it is in the 50's according to the thermometer and with that breeze.... So I'm walking down close to the school and hearing the kids having their fun, recess, Friday, oh yea, don't get no better than that. But it got me thinking about something that hasn't crossed my mind for a while. That's part of living 1000 miles from home, and also having my memory. Archie and Wes. Those guys used to take a day like today and wear out the competition. Archie Manning rarely got sacked or even touched and that Wes Chandler, well, IF you could keep up with him, you STILL gotta tackle him when he gets the ball. Sometimes Fran Tarkenton would show up, but mostly it was Archie, since the Mannings lived there and Wes, since he was Archie's favorite. When it was just the two of us, it was mostly Alan's back yard, a couple others and we'd use those useless peach trees on my yard as out of bounds all the way down to the Sluder's yard. That crab apple tree was the end zone most of the time unless we stretched it down to the cedar tree I planted by the fence between our yard and the Fulmer's. The peach tree dividing up the Wilson's (Alan's) and the Sluder's, was an end zone and goal post for kicking field goals/extra points, as if anyone was sissy enough to kick an extra point. Grab that ball and run, son! Was about 5 years I guess. We would be inside watching a sporting event of some type and we'd end up going outside at the halfway point and playing. Alan had the old basketball goal stuck up in that huge old pine tree where Kareem and Magic used to hang out and wipe the floor with any challengers that foolishly stepped up. We had Reggie Jackson and Don Drysdale if anyone was up for some baseball. Kings of the neighborhood, hey, it's my story. We weren't perfect. There was the time when Wes went out on a long crossing pattern. Archie being the dead shot he was, launched that ball just ahead of those perfectly designed hands and that damn peach tree took off about half of Wes Chandlers face. Oops...again. We were fortunate enough to have the good Dr. Cauble across the street. Usually he'd fix us up and not tell the parents. Can't have the great ones of every sport known to man in trouble with the folks because of some little injury, now can you? Well, I seem to remember when Granny Cauble died. I heard a few years ago that Mr. Wilson had passed on, and Mr. Eaton, Mr. Sluder and others. Those times were long ago. As they like to say online these days. Things were different. If and I said If you were allowed to be in the house, must be awful cold or raining awful hard, you were helping clean house or watching what a parent wanted to see on the only TV in the house. You might be coloring or something quiet in your room. But I'm telling you, when you had some of the greatest ballplayers of all time right there in your back yard, why would you spend any time at all inside that boring ol' house?

..Sure of where I'm going Not sure of how to get there... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Woke up with many things swirling around in my head this morning. Not all that unusual. And also woke up with a song in my head. Everyday. But this song is different. I realize that all songs are like the people that sing them. They are all different and that's what makes them special. I have an appreciation for many different types of songs and I can make the moment with them. Listen to them and head out in a different direction. Many that will go through my head while I'm riding. That is one reason I don't have a radio on my motorcycle...I can listen to what I want, when I want. I actually woke up feeling rather down. I was thinking about how important this election is. I was thinking about the situation with Iran and Israel. It also crossed my mind about the football season begun. From high school up to the pros, lots of choices to make and defend. I'm really not all that into sports anymore. I guess I just got tired of all the controversy. Like politics and just about any other subject, there is so many ways that we can separate ourselves. That's where I was when I woke up. We all have our favorite sports teams and our favorite places to eat. Many of us have a particular place to be on Sunday morning, whether it be in a house of worship or stretched out on the patio. Religion is possibly the biggest way we find to separate ourselves. Boy, you want to fight, start in on someone's religion. Especially if you happen to be Muslim. I don't know much about Islam and Allah and all that, but I do know that Muslims are very proud and outspoken regarding their lives. Seems Muslims are like Jews in that it's not only a religion, I'ts a way of life. I've been thinking seriously about bailing out on something called Facebook recently, simply because it has become quite a divisive place to be. Seems like all this negativity has been depressing for me. The reason for me being a part of Facebook, like many others, is to keep up with family and friends in a very simple way. There are those that are unhappy because I never call or write or visit and they are correct, I've allowed that medium to become my primary way of communication. Sad that it has depressed me so much lately. As much as myself and some others insist that we will stop using Facebook, whether it be negativity or changes or whatever, we remain. Even the use of that medium is fodder for disagreement. And that, as I said, was the reason for waking up with the blahs. But then, as I lay there, thinking of many things disparaging, that song came to me. Regardless of what anyone thinks or feels about the ways we have to separate ourselves. We can't agree on anything. Maybe, at least for those that read this, we can agree on one thing. As Mr. Charlie Daniels stated a few years ago, when we all felt lost and confused and divided. "We may have done a little bit of fighting amongst ourselves but you outside people best leave us alone. Cause we'll all stick together and you can take that to the bank That's the cowboys and the hippies and the rebels and the yanks You just go and lay your hand on a Pittsburg Steeler fan and I think you're gonna finally understand. God Bless America again..."

Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ and you know it don't come easy... Recently the angels swept down and collected the saintly soul of a most revered woman. She was the favorite aunt of my mother's and the mother of some favored cousins of mine. She was part of a generation that came forth out of the union of a pair of simple but uncommon people, loving and loved. One story that will stay with me always is the one where my grandfather, to be, told me he had to ask "Ms. Addie" as he called her, for the opportunity to date her sister, my grandmother. She told him his duties and he obviously performed because he did end up as part of the family. Concerning my grandmother, I have told many that she would have hugged Charles Manson and told him she loved him, and meant it. Another of the sisters had a woman child that would become my "second" mother, giving me all the love and protection that a mother could and would offer. One of the brothers ended up in California, where he tried, unsuccessfully, to entice me to join them in a family business. Streams, flowing from the same pool. Those are but a glance at the stories I have personally. My siblings would have many others to tell about this family of folks that seem to crave the opportunity to share their love with others. I believe that they truly found out that the more you share, the more you have to share and they developed an unquenchable thirst for giving. If it sounds unlikely, ask anyone that knew them. I'm confident that they would tell the same. I know, to imagine anyone like that in this world seems hard to believe, but sadly, it has come to an end. That's not to say that this generation would feel any less toward another, I wouldn't suppose that a family would leave the following offspring without the knowledge or ability to share and to love as well. But, you know, things change. This whole world has changed dramatically since the turn of the last century. In her 89 years, she saw many changes. I'd also say that if her nature was ever seen as a weakness and taken advantage of, she would never have been aware of it. I have said it many times, if you ask Aunt Penny to pray for something, you better be serious about it. She WILL do it and since I always felt she was closer to the source than many of us, something WILL come of it. A rare and special person to say the least. I am so happy that I was able to visit her two years in a row, since it took me 40 years to get back to her last year. Strange how after all those years, I drove straight to her house. I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but after decades of change in the area, I still drove right up to the house. Like a magnet....or something. This year they told me, she may not know you, so don't let it bother you. And when she saw me, the first thing she asked was, "where is your wife, why didn't you bring her with you?" You figure it out. But as I said, regardless of how you feel about such things, I know that God told those angels, "Go get Ms. Addie, she's tired." At which they shouted with happiness at the opportunity to bring her home and came for her. At the other end, you have a dear sweet child. I don't know her man, but, if she loves him, that's all I need to know. She was barely along in her bliss. She didn't know for sure, but I had seen already, she was carrying a beautiful little girl. A girl that her and her husband had produced by their love, that was so perfect, that God had sent the cherubs to gather her before her tiny feet had touched the earth. As he reached down to gingerly touch that little porcelain, dimpled cheek, he told the parents, I'm sorry, but this one is mine. We will never have the pleasure of seeing her hair of spun gold reflecting the sunshine with which it was made. Never will we look upon her eyes of bluest hues of the waters of the south Pacific, both warming and cooling at the same time. She will never be stained with the difficulties of this earth. She will never know hunger or thirst. Never will she be cold or have to endure the endless, dry Oklahoma summer heat. She sadly will not feel the shared heartbeat of a lover, but she will also not have her perfect cheeks feel the tears of a broken heart. No, this one, as special as one ever was. I don't suppose we will ever understand, in this life, why some are taken early and some seemingly late. We never want them to go, but that's what they do. For some reason, maybe some have gifts for others and cannot go until those gifts are exhausted. Others, perhaps, are taken simply so the hole that they leave can be filled with the love and warmth of family and friends, closing in around them, in unwavering support. Both of these gifts will be missed and thought of often. With love and with heartfelt appreciation for what they left us. One, a past of smiles and celebration of life and the other with a brilliant flash of hope for the future.

It only seems natural... Kept me alive... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yes, that is today's topic. Breastfeeding. I would never intend on controversy. But, I keep hearing about all these arguments and I can't believe it. When you drive by one of these ranches out here, or anywhere else for that matter, I know you do it. You see that calf or that foal having a bit of breakfast and you think or say, ahhhh. It's one thing that we share with many animals. For quite a few of us, it's where our first meal comes from. Mom. It's a great relationship builder. It's, at least for me, where the bond we have with our mother's begins. I know as a breast fed baby, where the feelings I have and have always had for my mom came from. I have an impossible time finding a reason for that to be a problem. It's the way things were. As many a grandpa has stated, back in my day, before all these products at the grocery store and all these people who seem to know so much, that's the way it was done. I realize that for some there are difficulties that prevent new moms from being able to nurse and that's understandable. But for someone to actually be offended by the beautiful, heart warming sight of a woman feeding her child, I just don't get it. Or for a woman not to desire what I imagine to be continuity from carrying a child for nine months through the pain and chaos of birth to feeding after all that is over, just seems like the thing to do. I remember how it hit me when my mom lost both of her breasts to cancer as it seems many do these days. It wasn't only the fact that cancer had invaded her body that created the stress we all felt, but it did leave a strange emptiness within me. I honestly feel that our relationship was centered on breastfeeding. I've heard the experts talk about how it increases the bond we have and that there is as much psychological as physiological reasons for it. I have no basis for the impression that not being breast fed has created this generation of lactose intolerant children. I know when my kids were young, that the breast was replaced by a bottle full of man made formula. I have a phobia about that. I never appreciated the fact that kids could get nourishment from such a source. I've also been told that mother's milk contains nutrients for a stronger immune system that can't be found in formula. It also has no shelf life or need to be kept cold or heated. I always felt it maybe slowed development. There is no way to make up for the loss of intimacy. I see young people that don't have near the respect for their mother that I've had. The fact is, my mother and I didn't have a great relationship. But, I never came into her presence that I didn't kiss her forehead, nor did I leave her presence without a kiss and an I love you. Because I did love her. There was a time, I've told you before, when I sent her cards on my birthday. I just felt, after all the stories on the news, that I was truly thankful for her. She didn't abort me, she didn't leave me in some trash bin, she didn't sell me. We weren't great friends, but I respected her and we did manage to find enough common ground to get along. I can't help but believe it was because of the way we started our lives together. With her lovingly holding me close to her body, me feeling her warmth, hearing her heartbeat. Feeling the ultimate in safety and intimacy, as she fed me. There is nothing that can replace that and I know it's something we need as humans. I'm saying I realize that some new moms don't produce enough milk and some just have problems feeding. That is where the term "wet nurse" comes from. I imagine there are many that have no idea what that is. You don't hear it these days. And some will be offended by the fact that I used that term. But some time back, they were necessary. And that is it in a nutshell. People are offended. I say it's a shame. I just can't wrap my head around anyone being offended at the most beautiful of nature's moments of life. Could it be a maturity issue? I mean, how can it be that the nation that spends unbelievable amounts of money each year on pornography be offended by a mostly covered woman's breast in public? I thank my mom and all the other's that practice breastfeeding. I'm glad for the fact that they are willing to do so, to continue to give after the birth. Willing to do what it takes to build that relationship that has a chance to grow into something very special. I've said many times that I admit that I'm not an educated man, that much of what I know comes from what I see and that's the way I see it.

Mom's Memorial Ride, Part IV The ride home... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning, instead of going back into the city for even more festivities, I decided it was time to start back. As I was riding along, with my mind on other things, it occurred to me that to be in that part of the country on Memorial weekend, well, I should have been paying more attention. What I realized is that these mountains here in Virginia, where this magnificent country had begun, well, what had these mountains witnessed? They had looked down from their blue-hued, misty morning peaks to witness the birth of a nation. These farm houses and barns, what had they seen? Did they provide shelter, or maybe protection, cover? Did one or more of those rag-tag bunch of colonial soldiers, hide there, behind that very barn, waiting with uncertainty, perhaps a bit of fear? Waiting for a well trained, well dressed, well fed group of red coated British soldiers? Around a century later, did those hills watch in horror, as a war that pitted some of the very families that lived in these farm houses, fired upon each other? Brother against brother, fathers against sons. Family against family, struggling with the growing pains of a young nation in peril of splitting at the seams. Did they see many of their own, barely into the next century, heading off to yet another war. This time far away, in an unknown land. Called the war to end war. Making the sacrifice in order to stop one from overtaking another as uneasy alliances between neighboring nations caused exaggerated pushing and shoving, resulting in the deaths of perhaps 70 million soldiers. Were those beautiful mountains aware of yet another time, within a few decades, when once again, almost every developed nation in the world took sides and fought in huge and tragic conflicts resulting in the realization of anti-semitism and absolute destruction involving the use of nuclear power for the first and hopefully last time. The horrible loss of 24,000 soldiers in one day on the beaches of Normandy. There have been other wars or conflicts since that time, that the people of this area were called up or even volunteerd to be a part of. These hills have seen it all. The pride of a nation made stronger by the fact that it's people are willing to defend not only this country, but others that have been abused worldwide by those that would not desire their people to know the freedoms we hold dear. I was also reminded during this part of the trip, as various songs filled my head that one was becoming ever so clear to me. In the eighth grade, I believe, my english teacher gave us somewhat of a project. We were to listen to a song and try to interprete what the author was saying to listeners. At the time, I did poorly, I couldn't imagine, it seemed to make sense, but, my youthful mind couldn't follow. After the events of the previous day, maybe now, I realize more than ever what is meant by, "he ain't heavy, he's my brother". Once through that area, as again I traveled the land that I knew so well, from several years of driving a truck. Moving passed places that I had delivered to and wondering about some of the people I'd met, some of which I'm sure are no longer with us. I was happy to be back in the home of my friends. It seemed such a treat. After so long not seeing them, to get the opportunity to spend time with them on both sides of the trip was warm and comforting, right in the middle of a trip that was at times, arduous. I was thrilled to present my friend with the flag that I had those others sign. He seemed truly greatful of my idea and I was proud that I had been able to do it. Once again, these people know only service to others and it was special that I was able to do something nice for him. The morning came quick and I was up at 4:30, pacing the floor. I was ready for the trip home and I'd make it today. Readying myself for a long, warm day had made me anxious to get started. Not wanting to set off the alarm, I could only look out the window and the ol girl and watch her squirm and make those noises that made me think of R2D2. Sorry my dear friend, no breakfast this morning, thanks so much for making the trip so memorable. This was also a bit of an epipheny for me. As I was discussing my departure with my friends, I didn't know until I said it. I told her that being so anxious to leave the home of such wonderful people, made me realize that I could never leave Oklahoma. At that moment, I discovered something I don't believe I've ever known. Homesick. Never been homesick, always wanted to be whereever I'm not...... Once again, I left and moved through those hills of north Alabama. On a cool and fresh smelling morning, made so by the cleansing of the previous afternoon showers. And again, the beauty of the green and misty mountains led me along, this time on new roads. New to me, set me to question regarding the path less traveled. Does it specify the road with less visitors or the road that I've never discovered? I rode up through the backroads of north-west Alabama. Went by the small and large farms and ranches, into and out of the small towns. It could have been many places, for in this country, well....that's what makes this country. The people that live here and there. Small town folks, making it the best that they can. Not able to rely on the big companies and the many places to do business and work that exemplify larger towns and cities. Always seemed special people to me, that's why I have lived mostly in small towns, worth the drive. I did go by some large manufactoring type plants, with their huge buildings, practically a city within walls. I have no beef with that, at all. They do create jobs that support many and can positively impact the area. Was actually good to see them so busy. I went into Muscle Shoals, Alabama. Much, much bigger than I ever thought. And up into a beautiful town of Florence and thought it was one of the nicest bigger towns I'd ever had the pleasure of riding through. Unfortunately, it was too far north, so after discussing the fact with a local firefighter, never met one I didn't like, I was back on my way. Set back on the right path, I moved out of Alabama into Mississippi. Taking the long way home has seemed to be the way of it for me. I love to travel and I love to be home afterwards, but this time it did have that ring to it. I did finally get to a major destination for the day, Memphis, Tennessee. Back to interstate. I've stated more than once, everytime I leave Oklahoma, I get spanked when I return. I knew it was going to rain, always does, every time. But the surprise was in crossing the Mississippi. Now that song that Charlie Pride sings, will move me to feel and little twinge of homesickness when I hear it, not sure why. But on that bridge, I felt it. That Oklahoma breeze made me think that I was going to go swimming with my motorcycle if I didn't get across as quickly as possible. Once on the other side the wind kept up and I could see the clouds not so far away. Was Arkansas going to get into the act? Did Oklahoma call ahead, knowing I was coming that way? The road does things to your head, haha. Not long after getting into Arkansas, it hit. Right there, just after the Wynne exit, the traffic stopped again. More roadwork, typical on interstates. Especially seems like I-40 has more than it's share. That's where the stopped traffic collided with the storm. The officer had pushed us into one lane and then left, to avoid the storm? The wind was shaking the big rig in front of me and flattening out the trees that lined the highway. It was also making my life difficult, while attempting to lay my motorcycle over. The sky had turned into night and the rain was worse than I've ever had to endure from the outside in many years. I was reminded that in storms like this, while I was in the Air Force, the dogs would be taken inside.....not us....the dogs, we stayed out, yea yea, cheer for the Air Force. The rain was just pouring off the top of that truck and when we did get to move, maybe the length of that truck before we stopped again, I would move over and let my lights shine up the side toward the driver's mirror so he'd know where I was. I didn't want to be rolled over while I was trying to protect myself from such wind and rain by hugging the back of that thing. Note of interest, while I was standing there, doing my best to stay upright, it occurred to me that my friend had told me, "if you run into rain, you park that thing for a bit". I was greatful for his concern, but neither of us had any idea that this storm would manifest itself while I was stopped in traffic with no exit, no bridge, nothing. I do have good leather, the last storm I went through had proved that I want leather more than a rainsuit, but it does get stiff while it's drying. And yes, I was wearing that same leather when the storm passed and the state of Arkansas allowed passage into the warm drying sun. Another note, I did drive up and pass that truck and made an attempt to salute the driver for his patience and protection, thinking he was unhappy with that because he didn't respond. I'm sure it's a nervy thing to have someone on you like that, that you can't see most of the time. You know they are there, but not sure where exactly. Crossing into Oklahoma told me that my journey was coming to a close. It had been the best trip I had ever been on. I didn't get to see everyone or do everything I would have liked to, but, it was a trip that I'll not soon forget. I had been on a mission. I didn't do much while in the service to honor myself or anyone else, but in the last couple of years, I am making an effort to at least show others I truly appreciate the sacrifices they have made. In order to make and keep this beloved nation at the top of the heap in a very short time, as nations go, we all have relied heavily on those willing to put themselves in harm's way. Regardless of your feelings on this, I believe we have had a loving God that has done much to help us, even with the foolish behavior of many, including myself. But I hope that my writing will help others to realize that these trips are more than an opportunity for me to ride my bike, which I enjoy. Just the fact that it is a sacrifice that I'm willing to make. It's in the memory of my departed mother and my ex-brother in law and many, many others that before me and after me have done whatever it took to keep this thing together. In spite of out differences, we do manage to find enough common ground to make it work and to keep this beautiful nation the absolute greatest ever on the planet. I hope that you and yours had a great Memorial weekend and that you took time to contemplate the reason we celebrate our heroes, both military and the others that are involved in our emergency services nationwide.

Mom's Memorial Ride Part III D.C. ~~~~ Arriving in D.C. was at first uneventful. After all the emotion tied up in the trip so far, it was almost a let down. The problem was, it ended up to be a grueling 13 hour trip which from Bristol, Tn to Front Royal, Washington D.C. seemed endless. It is actually about 6 hours or so, at the end of a long day, with traffic I haven't had to deal with in some time now. Luckily it wasn't real hot, warm, humid, but that wasn't the concern. I was concerned about my room, in a motel that had forgotten me when I called to confirm recently. Even though they did get it right and sent the confirmation text, I was concerned about night staff not up to speed on everything and the likelihood that there would be countless others crowding the reception area desiring an unreserved room. I ended up trying to talk to a traffic policeman that was involved with doing his job at the time of my frustration and impatience with finding the motel. Plus the fact that the speed limit in this town was "don't move" and most of the residents seemed to drive at half that. Seems that as the world turns, the town doesn't, so you will eventually get to where you are going. Tough on a guy that was raised in an area where if you are on the interstate driving less that 65 miles per hour, you will be run down by a school bus. On top of everything else. The room was not bad, had better, had worse, ever been to Hays, Kansas? But the motel itself smelled of musty, moldy, been wet carpet and cigar smoke. Tough, don't even be a fool and try to find another room elsewhere at this last minute. I knew the next morning was going to be hectic. I rose up early because of my mission. And I was on a mission. I had checked with first, the Oklahoma chapter of Rolling Thunder, then the national chapter, then the official Department of the Marine Corps. Yea, a mission THAT important. I had an idea some time ago. My friend, that by the way, gave me a Marine Corps League challenge coin, one of not so many, has MS and disintegrating disc disease. Recently he had a chunk of his spine removed and replaced with nuts and bolts and hardware, so he could walk. Since he is such a dear friend, I had discussed the fact with him that I do talk about him, but there are important things that I don't know. So I found out his Marine Corps rank, his unit, his whereabouts in VietNam, etc. With that information I went to an area, open throughout the Memorial weekend in Washington D.C., called Thunder Alley. It's called that because of Rolling Thunder. If you don't know what that is, go to a computer and please, I urge you to look it up and learn all you can. It's the reason for my being in D.C. to start with. But anyway, my mission was this. Find every Marine I could and get them to sign a Marine Corps flag I purchased so I could present it to my friend. He can't make a trip like this right now, maybe, hopefully some day we can go together. This turned into an incredibly uplifting, emotional experience that there is no way I will ever forget. As I decided, in this very public place, with all these people I don't know, to just suck it up and start shouting, "Marine Corps, looking for Marines, want to ask a favor of the Marines here"! Anytime, as I searched the faces, that I got eye contact with someone, I would shout, "are you a Marine sir"? What I got for my trouble was amazing to me. I did get some that would tell me that they were in the Army, or other branch, some would apologize to which I would tell them they should never apologize for serving their country in any capacity and I made sure to thank them for their service. But, the incomprehensible part, oh my God....the Marines. All my life I've heard about it, I've seen movies, I've known many Marines in my life, I knew, but I didn't know. These guys and a few gals as well, man....it hammered me with the realization. As these men and women actually discovered what I was doing, for a little while, they insisted that I was one of them. I had my picture taken with people holding that flag to my back or my arm, signing and writing whatever they wanted to for my friend. That's what I told them when they asked, I said you are talking to your brother, not to me. The response was mind boggling. I was being told to tell my friend, "God bless you", "Semper Fi", and the ever popular, "WHOOAH"! I received numerous hugs and witnessed what I could feel was the emotion of something I have no clue about as I received many of what can be very surprising, "Marine Corps hugs". Even got one from a retired lady Marine. I did this for about 4 1/2 hours. Then, totally drained, hungry, thirsty, hot and somewhat dizzy, I went over and got a burger and a water and found some shade to sit in and rest. That's not the end of the story. After I ate, I walked over to where a band was playing. Not just any band. The Lt. Dan Band. A cover band started by the incarnation of Bob Hope, Gary Sinise. I noticed a couple of men sitting at a corner of the barricades, behind the stage and told them about my friend and his flag and asked about getting Gary to sign it. I was instructed in a very friendly manner to go to the left side of the stage, it's possible he'll stop and autograph some things for a few people. Wow, I walked around the stage and there was "the Lone Marine", retired SSGT. Tim Chambers, the reason for many that rode to Washington. I had been in touch with him prior to this trip and he had agreed to sign the flag and he did just that when I spoke to him. Tomorrow, his schedule would be full. To witness the man standing at attention, at present arms, saluting half a million motorcycles as they ride by over the period of 4 or 5 hours to thank them for their service, to honor the riders there to honor him. Unbelievable honor for me to be a part of that. As SSGT. Chambers was pulled away by others, I walked on to the side barricade where some tables were set up with wrist bands and other items, with the name of our only known U.S. prisoner of war, SGT. Bowe Bergdahl, captured and taken in Afghanistan in June of 2009. Basically forgotten by his government. But, as I discussed the matter with the lady at the table, she asked if I would like to come inside the barricades and sit beside the stage, better opportunity of an autograph. Of course I did and she escorted me over to sit beside a delightful young lady who would turn out to be the wife of one of the originators of Rolling Thunder, Inc. itself. What a coup! She remembered my name and the idea of the flag and guaranteed that I would have Gary's signature after the show. The show was so grand! The troops were entertained by a large group of very talented musicians. A cover band with many vocalists to insure a wide repertoire of songs. I can see why their popularity is growing quickly. And they are traveling, doing shows at USO clubs all over. A very noble endeavor, resulting in raising the spirits of our soldiers everywhere. And yes indeed, when the show had ended, Ms. Laura's husband had taken the flag to Gary and he signed it. I figured out then that it has to be better to BE a VIP than to be the friend or acquaintance of one. One more for the day. I had been in the store, picking up a few things. When I came out and went to get bungie cords to tie everything down, as soon as I opened the saddlebag, I noticed a head to my right. Some guy bent over next to me. As we both stood up, he was holding a small screw. He said, "Here, it seems you've lost a screw from your bike". He said he had heard it drop. Now I was standing right there, never heard a thing. I had no idea where he had come from, didn't see him coming toward me as I was walking toward the bike. He just appeared. Anyway, I thanked him and we started talking a bit. I discovered that he was from England, here on business. He named the motorcycle he owned, but it was strange to me and I don't recall what he said it was. But, also this man happened to be a retired British Marine that had been in the Falklands conflict some time back. I told him what I had been doing and he thought it was a great idea. After we talked a bit, we said our fair wells and he went on his way and I got on the bike. At once it hit me, I needed yet one more signature on that flag. I turned in the direction he had gone and he WAS just that, he was gone! That quick, as quick as he appeared, he disappeared ! I scanned the area, looking for movement in one of the few vehicles at that end of the parking lot. Watched for movement, like a vehicle pulling out of a parking space, nothing. My new friend had vanished. I was later told that he was obviously an angel. He held me up for a reason...... What do you think? All in all it was quite a day.

Mom's Memorial Ride Part II My homeland... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As I left the center of Mississippi and headed up into the great state of Alabama, I was struck with a whole new set of emotions. It is there that I reconnected with a dear friend of mine. I have stated many times that being a friend of mine....tends to benefit me, nowhere could that be more prevalent. I met these folks while I was working as a pest control technician some years ago, we came up with 15 years ago. From the start, he proved to be a special person. He is plagued with the, to say the least, destabilizing menace of multiple sclerosis. He was in VietNam in what could be called the early years, starting in 1967. A Marine through and through. Tougher than nails with unmatched intestinal fortitude. Instead of MS taking him down, he uplifts others. He truly knows nothing but service to others. His wife is his care taker. She is the perfect compliment to him. Between the two of them there is a crew of people working to make things easier for all they know. Gushing, maybe, but those fortunate enough to know them, know. I, of course got to a point where I knew that my search for their home was fruitless. And as I expected, she says, "stay put, I'll come get you". After being there for a bit, I learned something I should've known, it was her birthday. She fussed and cooked good healthy meals for us, asking me before my trip what my dietetic needs were as I'm diabetic with high blood pressure. Not only is this the wonderful wife of my dear friend, she is my dear friend. Their home is way back in the way back. It was truly an impossibility that I would've "happened" upon that house. While I was there, she was working on a project for the Marine Corps League. Been working on this event for about a year, by herself, with only the commandant assisting by making changes. Along with keeping the house tidy, cooking meals, watching after my friend and numerous other chores around the house, inside and out, now she has me. Won't forget the comment about taking care of her "boys". I have a wonderful memory of one of the best Thanksgiving days I've ever had. He managed to build a fire under a large black pot in the front yard. Filled with oil, he placed a turkey into the pot and made it likely the best bird I've ever had. They had every service that the pest control company I worked for had. Taking full advantage of all offers presented. And quickly, turned from customer to friend. Even now with all they do, they volunteer to keep up with four Marine graves. Keeping them clear and decorated with personally arranged flowers. It's easy to imagine that they would be good friends. The love that they have for God and Country is shared with all they know. Upon leaving the home of my friends, I drove through an area special to me. The northeastern part of Alabama, specifically Jackson County, is where my dad was born. Driving through I recall the time I spent delivering building materials for a company in Georgia that took me through the area, so I know it well. I've also done research on the area and know that I have relatives here that I've never met. There is a Vincent Manning that is running for Probate Judge in Jackson County that may be a relative. A few decades ago, I was looking into the prospect of leasing land for a hunting club that some friends were wanting to start and my wife called and found out it was Mannings that owned the property. Recently I have been thinking about a "layoff plan". In the event that the company I work for decides to layoff again, I want to have a plan to fall back on. My thinking has been that the prospects for a job for someone over 55 in this country, with this economy....well, it's not so cheery. That's why my plan consists of auctioning off everything. Taking the money and heading for a totally different lifestyle. Since it would be in the middle of many things important to me, family, friends and would contain many things that could become important to me, fishing, semi-retirement, Mobile, Alabama seems logical. I have a tattoo on my calf that is sort of a parody. It has the letters, A W T on it, standing for Alabama White Trash. Sort of an inside joke. Recently even my granddaughter got into the plan by suggesting that I take my tattoo home. The ride when I left my friends' house heading for my ultimate destination of Washington, D.C. was with mixed emotions. I hated to leave my friends, hadn't seen them in almost a decade. Also, with a perfect spring morning and the feeling of driving through my homeland, I was cruising through the mountains, cool and misty, and once again I was smacked with the notion that I should stay. I truly love my adopted home in the great state of Oklahoma. I am married to a woman that I feel truly cares for me, more so than any others that I've been involved with. I have enjoyed the best standard of living that I've ever had. I have the best job ever. I have had the good fortune of actually having the motorcycle of many a persons dreams, paid off. And I've learned many lessons and there are many ways that I have changed for the better since I've been here. It would be no small matter. It requires more consideration than most decisions I've made. I'm bad to make snap judgements and to just jump. Leap before looking, so to speak. This time is very different. Some folks would think it a no brainer. Everything points to making the choice to go. But the logistics of such a move and the ultimate emotional and financial toll would only be known in time. I'm not a kid now. I tell myself, even as my mom pushes from the great beyond, that it's different now.

Mom's Memorial Ride 2012, part I On the way... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I awoke a couple hours early to the sound and sight of a thunderstorm. Great, not that I haven't ridden in the rain before, but it makes for a tough start to a long trip. By the time I was ready to go, it had stopped raining, but was still quite cloudy. As I rode south toward Texas, after I had passed through Commanche, Oklahoma, I saw it. To the south and west of me, the rainbow had sliced through the clouds. Now I don't care how you feel about such things. I'm not a scientist or a philosopher or a cleric, but...I do believe that a rainbow is significant. Surely there is something cosmic and encouraging about something that manages to give hope and beauty and a smile to those that witness it's appearance. It seems common, but it has even become a symbol for some that have known nothing but persecution and abuse, simply because of an attitude. It does give hope, and on this morning, when I was beginning a ten day trip, in the midst of all those clouds, it told me I was embarking on a trip that was going to be special. As I continued southward toward the Republic of Texas, I noticed that the clouds were moving away and the sun was making it's daily journey. Drying things off and warming things up. Making the soul swell and become uplifted. Not a bad start after all. One thing about riding a motorcycle. The smells... There are many smells that many never notice. Many never realize exist. Rain, the sweet, heavy smell of rain in the distance. The ride was uneventful for the most part until I noticed the sign that proclaimed, "Lafayette..12 miles". Then the bottom fell out. Now I have ridden my share of thunderstorms, but this one was sudden and fierce. I ended up following the tail lights of the truck in front of me, hoping he didn't have cause to hit the brakes hard for any reason. The next sign I could make out was "Lafayette..4 miles". Then after a let up, it hit again, just as hard but this time with hail. I did manage to get to the underpass for I-10 where I hid until at least the hail stopped. After deciding to move on, I made the exit up onto the bridge and continued on my way. The rain stopped just before I got to the endless bridge that runs between Lafayette and Baton Rouge. The bridge, with the end of the cooling rain, mixed with the sight, sound and once again smell of the bayous was intoxicating. I found myself riding along looking over at the water and wondering, "what would I catch if I dropped a line into the water......right there"! I was instantly feeling the pull of the Gulf coast, what kind of work could I find, where would I want to live. I know I wouldn't be out here fooling around with a boat and fishing gear, getting lost in that maze they call the bayou. Hot, humid beyond belief........beautiful. With more stuff to eat than any other eco-system in the world, I'm sure. Yes, quite a draw. I managed to get to Baton Rouge before the long day, with the storm, had taken all my energy and I knew it was time to rest for the evening. Strange, how walking into a place to eat and hearing THAT style of speech and how much it produces an addendum to the desire to remain in an area. And that only gets worse, from this point on. The next morning, I made it on into Gulfport, to the house I've been to so many times in my youth. It's an old house, containing a great-aunt and uncle, and cousins. Folks that made up a large part of my youth. Great-aunt, great indeed. I've told many over the years, don't you ask Aunt "Penny" to pray for you, for anything, unless you really want it. I have no doubt that she would do just that and I've always known that she had a friend that was closer to her that maybe to many others that would claim that same friend. A wonder of a woman, never knew hardship, to hear her speak. She was a nurse during WW2, just found out she had received an award for donating a certain admirable amount of blood over the course of a lifetime. I know if there WAS a hall of fame for mothers, like the song says, be the first one elected. I also found out recently that my great-uncle is great as well. Part of the greatest generation, I learned that he was part of some secret, hush hush, plan during WW2. Something that took him and some others deep into Germany. Unfortunately, the plan had some discrepancies and he, and others, were held as prisoners of war for a time. While I was discussing that with my cousins, he was sitting over there, not saying anything but watching me as I was talking . I was telling them about the discussing the issue with a friend and it was agreed that these folks in that generation didn't feel their heroism. They simply did as they were told. The man said "get your gun and go over there" and they did it without question, I mean, he was in charge, ya know? At that, he was looking at me and just waved his hand as if waving off a fly and turned back to his paper. To me that was confirmation. That night I slept upstairs in somewhat of a finished attic. My cousin told me, you know where the room is and there is a fan. No air conditioning. That room, without air conditioning, is the reason I sleep better to this day with a fan going. Summer, winter, whenever. It's that sound, I feel that memory. My ceiling fan is never turned off. It's because of that very room. I was asked how I slept, hard to say. I was up for a while with the flood of memories of hot gulf summers. The feeling you get inside from the glut of memories that roll through your head like a hurricane of information. The smells of a youth that spent many of those hot summer nights in that very room. Then comes the sleep that you no longer know. The comforting sleep of a child with no worries other than how to spend tomorrow when you only know the freedom of youth. It was time spent looking at the "old blue goose". The old hand painted blue 1969 Plymouth Belvedere station wagon. The cousin had removed the engine for rebuilding and Uncle Red said he couldn't wait to go cruising the gulf in the ol' blue goose. I can't wait either. Talk about a pull for relocation. As I reluctantly left for the higher ground, I was struck with more reality. I was riding up through the heart of Mississippi and it seemed like the tall pines that bordered this piece of interstate were talking to me. The light morning wind was slightly moving them back and forth and once again, along with the sound, was that fresh scent of an area heavily forested with pine. As I made my way, they seemed to call to me, this is your home. It's time to come home. I could hear my mom in those trees. The night before she passed, we spent 12 hours...arguing. A woman that hadn't eaten in a week and had very little fluid intake and had moved very little, was sitting up in bed. Looking straight at me, carrying on something awful. And it hit me hard. Part of what she said, four years ago was to get back with the family. She loved those folks back in Gulfport. She loved her mom's sister and that family dearly. When I went through that area last year, how was it I drove straight to that house I hadn't seen in forty years? How was it when I saw my great-aunt this year, after being warned that she may not recognize me, she asked where Cathy was? Yes, it's time to reconnect. I couldn't feel that any stronger. When I said that Oklahoma had been so good to and for me, how could I leave now, mom simply stated, "you found your way out there didn't you".

Forward That's a new one... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I've never done this before. Never, prior to writing a blog or story have I ever officially felt the need for a forward. This time however, should all the information return to my memory and be published, well, maybe a bit of background. Often, when I begin a story or tale, I begin with, "let me lay this out for you first". So....let me lay this out for you first. The annual event that started with the two-wheeled road trip to spend time with my mother before her passing has grown. I hurriedly dug up time, money and packed and rode, all the while with the realization that I had never done that before. Since then, Memorial Weekend has turned into a Mom's Memorial Run. It has expanded to something that includes my departed brother in law and a group of heroes that have gone to their reward that I "carry" on my back in the form of name patches. I feel that wherever I roam, I carry them with me. I talk to them, imagine (?) that they talk back. They are a part of the adventure. The trip that just ended was a trip that was filled with more emotion and just plain humanity than any before. There was, as on every trip, the issue of the weather. Always unpredictable, always something to be prepared for. As with anything, expect the unexpected. There was time spent with family members not seen in decades. Spent in a house from my youth with the firestorm of memories permeating my thoughts even as I attempted communicating with those present. There was time spent with old friends, trying to catch up, all the while dreading the moment of departure. There was the experience of time spent with a band of brothers, that for a time, insisted that I was a part and belonged where I was...in the middle of them. The unexpected... There was the touch of an angel...... There was time spent on a path traveled before. The familiarity and memories from past trips. There was time spent, well, does the concept of taking the road less traveled specifically construe a road that has not been traveled by anyone or one that has not been traveled by you? There was music in the air, literally. I don't have a radio on my motorcycle, don't want the distraction, but, I do have music in my head. I can listen to whatever I want, whenever I want. Songs that were revisited from long ago. Maybe interpreted different. There was the sudden reality of home. All in all, quite a trip. One that will mist the eyes forever upon reflection. Can't wait to share it with you. Sorry about the lack of pictures, perhaps you will see what I saw in your minds' eye.

the ol' double nickel

does it mean it's all downhill....faster? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I've been thinking a bit about what, if anything, it means to turn 55. I'm not sure if it's significant or not. Most notable birthdays end with a zero. Somehow, this one hits me as a time to reflect, maybe. I've always been curious about the fact they call this middle age, I doubt seriously that I'll live to be 110 and I'm not sure I would want to. I believe that I am set in my ways, but it seems that I've really only recently "come into myself". I feel that who I am right this minute is finally who I am. Middle age crisis? I think it's just the time when you realize that most of what you are dealing with just doesn't mean a thing. Back a ways, I converted to Catholicism. I remember sending these questionaires out to people that had known me for a while as a bit of background. I had someone call me and ask, "who am I to comment on, the guy I knew in the 70's, 80's, or the G of the 90's"? Even though we laughed, I guess it was an honest question as I have made a few changes over the years. I feel that I have changed over the years, adapting to changes in my surroundings. I have a relative that told me I was a "survivor". I had a tattoo artist tell me I was the "coyote" of the family, another survivor. So I guess that's it, I do what I have to do to get by. Without much education, it has been rough at times. One thing I have learned, what you do today will effect where you are in the future, it will come back to haunt you or bless you as the case may be. I do have some regrets, things that simply cannot be changed, things you look at and know, you have to live with it. I have had some good times, doing things I can't or won't do again. And like the song says, "been busted for things I did and I didn't do". I'm not sure at how much crying I want to do over the past. Things now seem better in most respects, maybe concentrate on that, tell you who I am now. I have been with the same company I now work with for over 7 years. At 55, maybe that doesn't seem too impressive, but for me, it's a major accomplishment. I've never come close to that with any other outfit. At 55, I'm in training for a new job, within the same company. That is tough at times. It's a job I feel I can retire from. Fairly easy work, no heavy lifting, no standing on concrete for 12 hours a day. But at the same time, it forces me to reach for brain cells that don't seem to be there anymore. Sounds funny, but it's not. I am doing something that might please my mother, to a point. I have been in the same house for nearly 8 years. She said she used to pray for me to grow roots. I used to kid her that roots made my feet hurt. I have been known to use the excuse that my dad gave me many years ago, that the particular tribe of Native Americans that we have in our blood, were actually nomadic. It's in our blood to want to wander. Sometimes it just seems a short attention span. A.D.D.? The issue with mom is the fact that it's far from Georgia. Like when I became Catholic, she was happy to see me in church, but Catholic? I am actually trying, like a guy at work has mentioned about his own life, trying to finish well. Getting and keeping a good job, doing things that mom might give me a break about, somewhat. Trying to do some things right for a change. In that, I have been a member of a safety organization at work. I have recently stepped down as a leader in that organization after 2 years, because of that machine I'm attempting to get along with, forget mastering. I am the lead of our small safety group. I speak out, I am the voice for our little group. That is a big change from who I once was. Speak in front of a group? Me? Don't know many back home that would believe that. I do remember how my dad used to speak about the "safety man" from his job. Please her, displease him, break even. I've mentioned before that as a family, we have always been light years away from the prospect of donating blood. Some repressed family nightmare has kept us from any thought of doing that. As I also mentioned before, that there was a time when a member of the family needed a donor and couldn't find one in the immediate family. Huge, monumental regret. In trying to finish well, I have leaped this hurdle and, so far this year I have given 14 times. That is platelets, you are allowed to give every 7 days. I'm going every other Monday. I can hear, in the back of my mind, "sure, you give blood now, to a stranger, but you couldn't do it for me". Maybe gain one, lose one, break even again. I have for 2 years, been riding with the Patriot Guard Riders. We escort soldiers on their last ride. We normally have a flag/respect line at the funeral home or church. Then ride the escort to the cemetery, and hold a flag/respect line there as well. Seems simple enough, but there is tons of emotion in a funeral, especially where someones child has been killed in war. To be asked to be involved in such a personal, emotional time such as this, has been beyond words. It has been an honor above description. Amazing, as much as I draw from being with these families during their time of grief, there are times when they come to you and shake your hand or hug you and offer thanks. No points for this, maybe there is a loss of points here. You definitely take more than you give. I have and will again ride with Rolling Thunder in Washington, D.C. On their peaceful, but gigantic demonstration in calling attention to the plight of Prisoners of War and Missing in Action from all U.S. involved wars. I ride from my home in Oklahoma to D.C. by myself, until I get there. Then spend time with those I have grown up with. None I really know personally. But most of the guys I have been friends with throughout my life have been veterans of the war in VietNam and most of those are gone now. When I look at how big this demonstration is and then while talking to those I know, even though it IS quite a sacrifice and effort for me, most people I associate with have little knowledge or concern about it, other than what I tell them. Once again, when you receive more than you give.... Here's a hot one. Since my neighborhood friend's dad explained to me about politics and how Richard Nixon would be the absolute best choice for this nation, I have been a straight ticket Republican. Hmmm, right up and until this last Bush fellow mercifully left office. Without going where I REALLY want to go with this, I'll say simply....no more. Since moving to what has to be the number one, most conservative, right wing, God fearing state in the Union, I have become very liberal. It's tough holding a conversation, but as an uneducated man, I can only trust and be certain of what I see and hear. Probably no points here either. I don't care if you own a gun, just don't shoot me and stop letting your kids shoot each other. I don't care if you love someone of the same sex and want to get married, just don't try to kiss me. I don't care if you wear your pants halfway to the ground showing your underwear, I just don't do that myself. I'm not concerned with your tattoos, have some myself, pierce anything, anywhere, that's your business. As you should know, I wear my whiskers long. I appreciate the fact that my employer, for the most part has no issue with it. I do get some flak about it, just like the others I just mentioned. I remember when my first wife pierced my ear, how some would actually stand in front of me and ask, "are you like a hippy or gay?", which ear is it that means what. Pierce both like I have now and I must be a gay hippy. What goes along with my lack of concern about your individuality is the fact that I don't want you judging me for my appearance either. I try not to judge people for the way they prefer to dress or wear their hair or whatever. I have put up with decades of that. I have been overlooked for a job, more than once, because I had a beard, neatly trimmed or otherwise. They all want us to think outside of the box, but God forbid trying to GET outside of the box. Two of my favorite actors attracted my attention at a very early age because of one word. Non-conformist. A song from my early rock years says, "conform or be tossed out". From a very early age, (60s) I have misunderstood how people all over the world could look down on another simply because they are different in any way. It doesn't seem to matter what, just the fact that someone is different, that's all it takes. One reason for my change in politics, I remember what I said, but if I vote my faith, do I vote for the liar or the one that gives me choice, like our Creator is reputed to do. Why punish someone or make any kind of decision about someone, simply because of the way they look? I will never attempt to understand. Old and crotchety, I guess. Sorry dear, but my favorite thing to do has become what maybe it's always been, riding my hog down the road. Spending not near enough time, crossing this great state that has become my home, on a cool morning with the sun in my face...... I close with this from A Man Called Hoss. He described the last song on his audiobiography by calling it the beginning, Ol' Waylon said "the only thing I can say about it is that is, it ain't over til it's over..." "Time keeps changing lanes and shifting gears, racing down a road that disappears, where do we go from here..........?"

Happy New Year !

woke up on the green side..again
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Well, it's New Years day, 2012 and I just felt like I should write.

To most ways of thinking, I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm still here. There are many that didn't make it all the way through 2011. We've seen the names of the famous and infamous. Many closer to home as well.

I'm thinking, well, I've never been much for making resolutions, but there are a few high spots I'd like to shoot for this year.

Not in any particular order, only as they come to mind.

I need less than 8,000 miles on the ol' girl to get our 40,000 mile pin. Can get a big chunk of that with another high spot, by going to Rolling Thunder this Memorial weekend.

I'd like to spend more time working around the house, fixing up and all. Seems like an opposing high spot to the first.

I'd like to be able to see family, hmmm, that would be a couple spots working together.

I'm working on learning a machine at work, could mean a spot for the duration of my working life. Good enough job to carry me through paying off the house and get me retired without increasing the body damage that seems to be showing up these days.

Probably be a good idea to work on that body damage as well. Maybe do some things that don't require a doctor.

Been doing pretty good at giving blood, so maybe keep at it. The Oklahoma Blood Institute has a points reward thing going where I could earn a nice black poplin jacket with their logo on it. I like it.

Wouldn't hurt to try to firm up some local relationships, one in particular. Should I have surgery this year, it'd be nice to have a happy home nurse, if you get my drift. Been told, "Happy wife means a happy life." Maybe give it a shot, can't hurt.

I know that there will be opportunities to ride with the Patriot Guard this year and maybe along with everything else, I will be able to do more than in 2011. It's all I can offer, all I can do for those that give up what they give me.

As usual, when I close out, I know that there are other items to add to my post, especially one like this. But, I rarely do.

One thing to add now. I hope everyone has high hopes for the new year and I hope also, that your new years dreams come true and that 2012 will be a year of celebration and not a year to close out with good riddance. You don't actually get that many to where you can wish them over.

Be happy, be safe and hey...same time next year...ok?