A Snowball port-mortem...

Wow, what a weekend! An amazing experience with some amazing people. This was top 10 with a bullet…

Snowball Express is an organization that brings together children and spouses of fallen US military heroes who have died on active duty since the 9/11 attacks. The group I ride with, the Patriot Guard Riders, have supported the effort in Dallas during it’s run here. When I first heard about it from some of the other PGR members, I was told it was a ‘can’t miss’ event, so I was in.

About 1700 family members were to converge on Dallas 12/9-12/13 for a few days of fun, activities, and events ranging from Six Flags to a concert by the Lt Dan Band (Gary Sinise from ‘Forrest Gump’). Now I had intended to, for the most part, ride the escort missions, airport to the hotel, to the Mesquite Rodeo and such, but I volunteered to help with the picture project. We had a life-sized backdrop of a PGR procession with a couple of borrowed bikes in front. We dressed the kids up in leather vests, PGR do-rags and took a picture that had the kiddos leading the procession. It turned out pretty good, considering were doing it on-the-fly with no budget. The final tally…over 1000 pictures taken, and about 400 emails to deliver them. I sent so many that Gmail thought I was a spammer and shut down my account for a day!

Now, the amazing part. We had families of all colors and races, moms without dads, dads without moms, grandparents without moms or dads. We had kids ranging in age from just a few months to 17 years old. There were lines, technical issues, chaos and confusion and all the requisite frustration that comes with doing something on that kind of scale while long on visibility and short on experience. I saw not one show of attitude from child or parent. I saw not the smallest inkling of impatience. The only frowns I saw were on the faces of the older kids when their parents made them get in the shot, and those only lasted until they actually saw the picture. For the first time in a long time, I saw a group of folks that were genuinely grateful for the time and effort being put forth for them. The thank you’s were too numerous to count. Kids didn’t want to get off the bikes, but did anyway because they knew there were other kids waiting. Moms who vowed to never even TOUCH a motorcycle looked like naturals astride their trusty Harley’s. Ever seen a grandma biker chic? We had more than a few! My face literally hurt the first nite from smiling so much, and I felt I’d lose my voice from laughing.

We always think of our fallen heroes as giving the ultimate sacrifice, giving their lives to defend this country. They made the choice to serve, and for that, I am eternally grateful. But their families, especially the kids, didn’t have much of a choice, but the sacrifice is just as great. There’s no way to know what they have gone thru and given up unless you have had that kind of loss in your life. This program’s mission is to “provide hope and new memories for the children of fallen military heroes…” Here is an opportunity for these families to catch a little break, and have a little fun for a few days. Kids get to be kids for a bit, and single parents get a breather, and everybody gets to share with some folks in their same situation. You could almost see them relax as they walked thru the doors of the hotel Friday evening. It was a most excellent time.

Sadly, this was the last year of a 3-year run for Snowball Express in Dallas, Next year, it will probably move to another city, but hopefully it will return soon. And, when it does, I’ll be front and center, first in line to do what I can to help out. Like I said, and amazing experience with some amazing people…

Veteran's Day 2011

Long weekend…Veteran’s Day festivities at work, a PGR mission on Friday, and 2^nd half of the mission on Saturday morning. Standing a flag line gives you lots of time to think about stuff. I did some thinking.

What kind of person decides to join the military? What makes one willing to leave everything that they love and hold dear to go half way around the world and fight for a bunch of strangers? What makes somebody willing to give their lives defending us?

For many people, it was a family thing. Generations of young men followed in their father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, and enlisted in the military. Remember Lt Dan in ‘Forrest Gump’? Then there was the draft. If your number came up, then away you went. Heck, I remember when I was a kid; many a wayward young man was given a choice…jail or the military.

So what drove this young man, 1Lt Dustin Vincent, choose to serve our country? As I understand it, he had lots of reasons NOT to put himself in harm’s way. A new bride, married just 2 days before he deployed; an instant family, when he adopted his wife’s daughter. He studied engineering at UT-Arlington. He had his whole life ahead of him, full of possibilities. Yet he decided to join the Army, to stand the gap for his country.

Lt Vincent was killed in Iraq, and he was brought home this week. At the request of his family, the PGR was in attendance to honor him. The mission was a 3-parter. Riders provided escort from DFW to the funeral home on Thursday. I was in attendance on Friday evening for visitation, and I also was there for his service and burial on Saturday.

Like I said, standing a flag line gives you lots of time to think. It’s not hard work, unless the weather doesn’t cooperate, but on Saturday morning, it wasn’t an issue. A little wind, but nothing really difficult. Warm and sunny day. Great for just about any outdoor activity. We had somewhere between 20-30 bikes, riders of all ages and backgrounds came out in support. As I stood the line, I thought about what made this young man so full of potential trade it for a rifle and a good chance at having to sacrifice everything. I don’t know. I am glad that he did. Cars drove by the funeral home, and, upon seeing the flags, slowed down to a crawl. Many waved, many gave thumbs up. Nobody sped by. I actually heard car stereos being turned down as cars drove by. Seems that most of those people cared. Occasionally, I look at what’s going on in this mean old world, and I wonder if people really do care…about anything. As I watched the cars and drivers react to the site of all the flags and riders standing a post, I realized that many people do care.

Now we as a country have problems. We all know what kind of troubles we as a nation are experiencing right now. But let me be clear, if you want to point fingers and lay blame, go somewhere else to do it. This post is not the place. The point I want to make is that as long as people still care, then we have hope. When people turn out to honor a stranger, a fallen hero that we know little about other than he died fighting for us, there is hope. When people take a moment from their overly-busy lives to slow down and show a bit of respect the funeral of a soldier, there’s hope. When people stop and wait patiently as a fairly long procession to pass, there’s hope. And one of the ultimate signs, we had 2 10-year-old riders with us on Saturday. We actually have a young man that rides regularly with his grand father on missions. This kid’s mission total dwarfs mine! When kids that young can begin to understand what we do and why we do it, there’s hope.

So on Veteran’s Day weekend, when we celebrate the sacrifices made by our warriors, past and present, remember that there is hope. If we can put aside our differences long enough to realize that we are much more alike than we are different, we’ll be fine. We sink or swim together. Lots going on out there, boys and girls, and we are all we’ve got.

It’s been a long weekend, and Oz is tired. Sleep well, take care of one another.

Another mission down

I did an PGR mission Saturday morning. I woke up later than I had planned and scrambled to get on the road on time. The mission was in Madill, OK, and I wanted to take the scenic route, not the one I knew, so I figured to give myself some time to get lost and found a couple of times. The trip down turned out to be pretty good. Temps in the low 80's clear skies, and just a slight breeze. The maps actually were correct, and it was a pretty uneventful ride. If it wasn't so dry it would have been some pretty scenery.

As it turned out, I didn't need the extra time. I stopped at McDonald's to get a little breakfast, and i was immediately re-introduced to small-town America. As i rolled into the parking lot, I could see several groups of older men putting up flags along the main street in Madill. The fallen soldier was from Kingston, about 10 miles or so down the road, but the town seemed to claim him too. I guess the locals were expecting a bunch of bikers in their town on Saturday. I got lots of welcoming smiles from the people behind the counter, and lots of nods from the patrons in the restaurant. After I finished eating, an older lady came up to me in the parking lot as I was getting ready to leave. 'Thank you for being here today to ride in this parade for this young man. We really appreciate it."

Lt Joe Lee Cunningham was killed in Afghanistan on 08 August 2011. He was only 27, just a few months older than my oldest. He enlisted just a few months after 9/11. He grew up in Kingston, and was well known by lots of the locals.

I arrived at the church where the funeral was to be held, about 30 minutes before the briefing was to begin. There were already about 100 bikes there, and more rolled in at a steady clip. Flying solo, so I didn't know any PGR members that were participating. It didn't seem to matter. I was immediately approached by a couple of riders and received a very warn welcome. There were riders from all over the state, in addition to police from 4-5 different towns, county sheriff, Oklahoma Hiway Patrol, and units from several area fire departments. The briefing went on as scheduled we got our marching orders.

The riders took their places to form an honor line as the soldier's family was escorted to the church. We were 50 yards from the the town's main thoroughfare. Anybody that drove thru town traveled that road. 11am, Saturday morning...and you could have heard a pin drop. It was stunningly quiet. All of the town was aware of the service and it as a whole showed tremendous respect.

After the service, we mounted up, now about 175 bikes, and took our places for the escort to the burial. As we moved out down the hiway, I saw flags mounted on EVERY road marker. Businesses had flags flying with employees and customers standing out in 104 degree heat, Every intersection was blocked by volunteer fire department trucks from communities in the area. Whole families turned out to honor Lt Cunningham. It looked like everybody in town participated in some way. He was their hero, and they were there to honor him.

We all could take a lesson from these folks. We're all in this together. We're family. When one rejoices, we can all rejoice. When one grieves, we can all grieve. We mourn the loss of Lt Cunningham, but we can be made a stronger group from the bonds formed by the loss.

Thanks for stopping by.

July 4, 2011

Independence Day. Happy birthday, America!

Many, many thanks to all of those who serve, past and present, to make this day possible for all of us. We may not always agree with why our service men and women are where they are, but we must appreciate them for their willingness to be there. They deserve all the support we can muster. My family has a fairly long history of service, in WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and during peace time. Many before me have served, including my dad and brother; 5 uncles and at least 5 cousins that I can think of just off the top of my head. They served honorably and I am so very proud that they are a part of this country's rich history.

We should all take a moment to remember what this day is all about. It's not just a reason to cookout, have a beer, and watch some fireworks. 237 years ago, some rebels and true visionaries decided that there was a better way. Their decisions paved the way for future generations to have the opportunity to thrive and prosper in what was and continues to be one of mankind's greatest experiments. We have the privilege of living in the greatest country on the planet.Sure, we have our warts, but who doesn't? We have problems...really big problems... but where can you go that's problem free? We all have the opportunity and the responsibility to participate in that great experiment, and we must not squander the chance to be a part of it. Celebrate...enjoy the day. But let us not lose sight of what and why we celebrate.

Independence Day. Happy birthday, America!

Pay Day

You know, there aren’t many ventures that folks go into not expecting to get any reward from. That’s kinda how this whole PGR thing started for me. I didn’t expect to get anything tangible out of it, just the opportunity to maybe help out in some small way. Definitely not in it for the money. I get to buy all the gas, pay for the upkeep on the bike, give my time (ok, so my boss prolly thinks that the PGR come out on the short end with that!). Don’t do it for the recognition. The only reason that I write these notes is to release some of the emotion that these missions fill me with. Maybe one of you will want to get involved mission because of what you read here, but let me warn you, it’s really hard to ride in a procession with tears in your eyes. Actually, I’d rather fly under the radar. In fact, when I show up at a mission, I don’t even introduce myself with my last name. I’d just rather be known as ‘that guy’. So far, the anonymity is squarely intact. There’s only one guy in the group that calls me by name, and HE calls me ‘TJ’…hope that’s not code for ‘Total Jerk’.

I left work a little early today to drive to Richardson to stand the flag line for a young soldier killed in combat in Afghanistan on May 23. Pvt Andrew Krippner was only 20 years old, much too young to be taken from this world. He was the only child of his parents, who were, of course devastated by his death. They were so overwhelmed at the support given by the Army, local police and fire, and the general public, that our ride captains asked that we not approach Pvt Krippner’s parents to offer condolences. He said that they were, very appreciative of us being there, but he was not sure that they would hold up under the emotion that they felt. We understood completely, and we proceeded to take our places in the flag line.

It’s 5pm, Texas in June, and the sun is out, in fine form. Our watch is supposed to last until 7pm. As you are well aware, the sun ain’t down at 7pm, so it’s gonna be hot throughout. We had a good representation, so we were able to take lots of breaks, and water was plentiful. The people came and went at a fairly steady clip, many smiling and acknowledging our presence, a pretty typical scene. Then I noticed an elderly lady making her way along the flag line, stopping to shake hands with each rider. As she walked up to me, she was wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m Andy’s grandmother. I just want to thank you for standing for Andy. We all really appreciate it.” For a second, I could not speak. I almost broke down and cried right there on the spot. Here is a lady going thru the most horrific pain that I can imagine, her dear grandson taken from her in a most unimaginable way, long before his time. I told her that it was my distinct honor to be there. She walked that entire 500 feet of flag line and spoke to each of the prolly 30+ riders to express her thanks, out in that 97 degree heat. I certainly wasn’t expecting it, and I don’t believe anyone else was either. We all understood, and it would have been just fine if nobody had acknowledged our presence. But she did any way.

Today, I got paid…

Just a side note, Pvt Krippner’s funeral service is tomorrow in Plano. Word was that there were going to be some uninvited guests (Westboro Baptist) protesting at the service. One of our ride captains told us that in light of all the groups that were going to be present; PGR, police, fire, Army, various military support groups, and an expected large contingent of the public at large; the protesters had decided that it wasn’t in their best interests to be there. I'm gonna blame it on high gas prices in Kansas. Damned oil speculators...

And so it goes...

In the wind again this weekend, with 2 more PGR missions completed.

The first was the funeral of a WWII vet on Saturday afternoon. He was a Navy man and served in the Pacific Theatre on a transport ship. He was lucky enough to make it back home to enjoy the fruits that his service helped to protect. He quickly set about raising a family, married to the 'love of his life' for 65 years. He and his bride should prolly get a medal for that alone!

He was from large family and many were in attendance at the services. Several of them walked our flag line, personally thanking each rider for attending. One lady in particular issued the line of the day. As she thanked the rider beside me, she said, 'When we drove up and I saw all ya'll standing there, I thought 'I didn't know Uncle Wayne was in a motorcycle gang!' Then I remembered who you were, and I'm so glad that you came!" I almost bit thru my cheek...

Fast forward to Sunday morning at 8am. I and about 40 other riders and friends stood on an overpass in Grand Prairie. Each year, a group of riders travels from California to Washington DC to honor POW's, MIA's, and KIA's from all conflicts and all branches of the military, the 'Run for the Wall'. The group had stopped for the evening on Saturday in the area, and our PGR group was there to meet them. We set up flags all across the overpass to give them a proper send-off on Sunday morning, headed to Terrell where their numbers would grow to 500+ bikes and cages (cars/trucks). Now, this is the southern route of the ride, and there is another group that left at the same time, headed thru the central part of the US; Kansas, Iowa, Indiana, and such. Understand that each of these riders pays a small fee to participate and are responsible for all their expenses for the trip. They simply feel so strongly that we as a nation cannot forget the sacrifices made for us, they are willing to do it.

The RFTW group is scheduled to arrive in DC to join the Rolling Thunder rally on Memorial Day weekend. Rolling Thunder is an annual event, the first in 1988. It is named after a 1968 Vietnam War operation, and is meant to call attention to and remind us all that there are still thousands of soldiers that are still unaccounted for, and that we should make every effort to locate them and bring them home. Now, despite the all of the belt-tightening that the current economy has forced us all into, Rolling Thunder will prolly be close to 400,000 participants. That's a lot of folks, a buncha bikes, and you can see how the name 'Rolling Thunder' fits.

It was a most impressive site, but what most struck me about the whole thing was, as we waited for the RFTW riders, car after car, truck after truck, bike after bike, big rig after big rig, passed beneath the bridge with horn honking, waves, salutes, 'thumbs-up'. It was stirring to see so many folks supporting the Stars and Stripes. Maybe we aren't as bad off as we think.

A full weekend to say the least. Once again, not sure where this little trip will end up, but the ride is surely an adventure. I'm even toying with the idea of some equipment to make the baby what the PGR boys call a 'big flag bike'. More later...

Mission...completed

I completed another PGR mission today. It may have been the coolest thing I've ever done. This one was special in lots of ways. PFC Joseph Terrell was killed in action in Korea, November of 1950. His body was returned to the US in 1993, I believe, and he was identified in March of this year. He came home to Dallas on Tuesday, and was laid to rest today. He had been gone for 60+ years. His ID was made thru a DNA match to his 89 year old cousin. That alone makes it special. But let's add in this...my uncle, Charles Miles, was killed in combat in Korea, September of 1950.

My mother's brother was only 19 when he was killed. Mom says that he had enlisted when he was 18, and had gone to Georgia for basic training. While in Georgia, he met and married a woman, and had a child. I don't know if he ever saw his son. Mom says that he was in Korea for only about a week before he was killed. He wrote several letters home, even though he was not there long. Mom says one of his letters said that when his unit shipped out, he and a friend overslept or something, and they ended up arriving at the front after the others. Charles was sent directly to the front lines, and was dead within a few days. He was brought home to Oklahoma, and Mom said that there was lots of support from the Army during the entire time.

Both of these men gave up their lives long before I was ever thought of. The decided to serve their country, to put themselves in harm's way for all of us...past and present generations. Little enough I can do is to try and honor their sacrifice with a little time out of my schedule to recognize what they gave up, and to provide a little support for their families. I wasn't there for Uncle Charles' funeral, but I was there for Joseph Terrell's. I was there not only to honor Joseph, but to also honor Charles.

Today, I got the elusive two-for-one...

Changing of the Guard

I completed my first 2 'missions' with the Patriot Guard Riders, one yesterday and one today. The PGR is a group that provides support and escorts for fallen soldiers, both active duty and vets. I got involved quite by accident a few weeks ago, you can check out the May 1 blog if you are interested in that story. At least check out the PGR website (patriotguard.org), free to join, and you don't even have to ride a bike ( Iron horses if you can, cages are always welcome and appreciated).

The yesterday's mission was to be an honor guard for a soldier going home to Houston thru DFW Airport. I was planning to leave work at 4, and roll over to the airport by 4:45, in time for 'staging'. Construction around the airport. Detours. Confusing signage. This ain't the right way. Fortune smiled on me, and I finally found the AA Cargo terminal. At the end of the parking lot, I saw a group of bikes and figured it was the PGR group I was looking for. As I rolled up, all eyes were on me. Buncha old guys trying to figure out who the 'young' guy was. "Sorry I'm late, gentlemen...the construction was brutal." (pause) "You're only late if we ain't here!" Introductions all around, lots of smiles, handshakes, lots of 'Welcome'. I felt part of the group instantly. I still wasn't sure what to expect out of the whole adventure, so I was a bit on edge.

We had a short 'briefing', with a little background on the soldier. This young man had just returned to Kentucky from a tour in Afghanistan. He and 3 other soldiers were headed to the airport to go home when they were involved in an accident and he was killed. He was going home...survived battle, man's greatest invention designed to separate someone from their butt, and he's killed in a car wreck on his way HOME! Just not right. The group had received a letter from an officer in his unit requesting that the PGR be present, as most of the other soldiers had scattered going on leave, and there was nobody available.

We got the the terminal, and to security, where the American Airlines folks were waiting for us. Seems that AA is big on this sort of thing, employees have formed a group to assist in these situations. At the gate, the attendant made an announcement explaining what was happening, and indicated that, if they wished, passengers at the gate could show their respect by standing while the body was loaded onto the plane. To a man (and woman), everyone in the gate area stood. People walking by that heard the announcement stopped and stood...the area shut down. We were escorted to the tarmac, standing on either side of the conveyor that loaded the body. There were a couple of soldiers that were present, and we were called to attention and saluted as the coffin slowly made it's way up the belt into the hold. There wasn't a dry eye on the team, as airport personnel, our escorts to the tarmac, and a half-dozen airport police officers stood by.

When we got back to the gate, boarding of the flight had not yet started, but everyone was still standing, the area relatively quiet. Seems that quite a few folks out there really do care, and have some understanding of the sacrifices that these young men make for us. It was really good to see a group of people that had little else in common other than being at the same place at the same time show respect at least for the moment that we were in.

The second mission was for a vet who passed away, and his family requested the presence of the PGR. In these situations, the PGR stands a flag line outside the funeral service, participates in an honor guard as the body is place in the coach, and if possible, provides escort to the burial service. It was very pleasant, but a bit cool this morning, and my position was next to a flag in the shade, didn't take too long for me to get a little cold. Nothing compared to what the folks inside were feeling, so just suck it up, Oz.

As the family and friends began arriving, we got lots of smiles and nods as we stood the line. Not much going on outside, we stood in realtive silence. About an hour in, the ride captain told us that the service was about to end, so we stowed all the flags and formed up for the honor guard. Once again, as the casket was brought out of the building, we were called to attention, and saluted. The family followed the casket, and came around to shake the hand of every rider, and to say 'Thank you'. They didn't know us from Adam, but seemed genuinely pleased that we were there.

I still don't know where this thing is going, but it's gonna be an interesting ride. It does put some things into perspective. I personally did not not serve. I have plenty of family members who did serve...my dad, my brother, several uncles and cousins all were members of the Army and Navy. Next week, I'm taking an afternoon off to attend the burial service for a soldier who was killed in Korea in 1950, and is just now coming home. My mom's brother, Uncle Charles, was killed in Korea, so this one hits a little close to home. I know that they deserve so much more, but this is what I can do to show my appreciation, and my respect.

I'll check in every so often, let you know how the lesson is going. Thank you all for coming...

Change of heart

I went to the funeral of a soldier today. No, not anybody we know. My aunt posted a message on that the funeral for a young soldier was being held in Waxahachie this afternoon, and the folks from Westboro Church were planning to demonstrate. I had heard of some instances where bikers would show up at services that the Westboro folks had targeted, and simply line up next to the protesters with engines running, drowning out the chants. I figured, the baby has a nice, deep voice, so why not ride down and see what's going on. When I got out to the bike, it was misting, but i decided to go anyway. Actually, I was kinda hoping for a run-in of sorts, and I wasn't going to miss the chance.

I rolled up on the parking lot, and I was pleased to see lots of people, and lots of bikes. This was going to be good. I parked and walked up to the building, looking for the Westboro folks. The driveway from the street to the Waxahachie Event Center was lined with people, standing in the cold and wind, holding American flags. The crowd was largely silent, and I couldn't hear or see anything that even remotely looked like a protest. As I stood watching the crowd, a lady waked up to me and said "If you want to go inside, you can sit with me." I wasn't sure what she meant at first, but I said "Sure", and turned to follow her into the service. As we walked, she explained that she had driven in from Ft Hood. Her husband was deployed in Kuwait, and all of her friends were suddenly 'busy' and could not come with her. She had spoken with her mother earlier today, and found out that here younger brother is to be deployed to Afghanistan in December. She obviously didn't want to sit thru the service alone, and I actually felt honored to sit with her. I suppose there was another purpose in store for my trip

Inside the auditorium, there were few empty seats. Lots of military, and lots of just plain 'ol folks that came out to honor the fallen soldier. It was a pretty somber atmosphere, as you might imagine, but it wasn't overpowering. A little about the soldier. 23 years old, with a young daughter. He had been active since 2008, I think, and was an exemplary soldier. One of his buddies from his unit described him as a natural leader, always concerned with the 'new guys' even though he was a newbie himself. His parents work at the local high school, and students by the dozens turned out to support the family and pay their respects to the fallen soldier.

As I sat in the service, I thought about what it takes to volunteer to serve in the armed forces. These folks don't have to join, there hasn't been a draft for a long time. There's a better that zero chance that they will be placed in harm's way at some point. They are working to protect freedoms for lots of people that they don't know and will never meet. Many of the very people that they are risking their lives to protect don't particularly like them simply because of their chosen profession. Yet, they are willing to go where nobody wants to go to do the jobs that nobody wants to do, and they do it with pride. Now I'm not saying that the armed forces don't have their share of bad apples. Pick a group, and there will be good and bad. But, all in all, these are a group of pretty special people, and they deserve our support. If you ever get the chance, tell a soldier, a sailor, or a marine "Thanks", and say it like you mean it,

I don't know if the Westboro folks ever showed, I never saw them. What I do know is that I went down for one reason, and came back with an altogether different reason for going again.