Jim (Jim & Donna) is a Marine.

 

I read that someplace.

 

 

 

 

I was very glad to see Big Jim among us, adjusting his beret.  He and Roni participate downstate, mostly.  All Ride Captains take the mission of the PGR very seriously.

 

 

Even if they don’t take themselves too seriously.

 

 

Jim traveled with his wife and Mr. Oswald C. Longcolt.

 

 

Roni is now the Treasurer for the Illinois PGR.  That’s Fred, smiling behind her.  Lean and mean, except not so mean.  His wife was among us today, too.

 

 

Jef & Eve.

 

 

I so tardy in making this posting that I can report I saw them both five days later at the Matthew Mendicott flagpole dedication.

 

 

I’m not acquainted with most of the PGRiders but I think there were three other couples among us.  My wife is also very supportive, though she has been on only a few missions.  This website would not exist without her love and encouragement.  I am blessed in my marriage.

 

And I am again blessed to share profound experiences with the members of the PGR for 90 warriors.

 

 

90 times I have had the dual honor of standing for a hero and standing with heroes.  They wouldn’t want me to say that, but it my website and its true.  Nearly all of them are very humble.  The rest are humble.

 

They don’t do it for money and they don’t do it for glory.  I believe each does it because he wants the flagline to be one flag longer than it would be if he stayed home.

 

 

A few of us escorted our fallen hero from the funeral home to the church, but most of us were waiting at the church door, flags in hand.  The family would arrive with the hearse and escort, but his many friends were waiting with us.  And, most happily, we were joined by the school children of the parish, all in their Catholic school uniforms.

 

It was quite a sight.  There were dozens of us, but that is only enough for the immediate vicinity of the church door.  Add three hundred students and you can line both sides of the block all the way to the corner.  Across the street from the school but still under the ever-vigilant gaze of a school official, these two students held a sign for all the world to see that read, “May God keep your soul.”

 

 

Then it happened.  First, the escort bikes rumbled down the block.  Then the hearse, followed by the limo and a few other cars.  I know what impact we must have had, supported by all the students.  I didn’t want to compromise my demeanor, so I didn’t look around for confirmation – I just kept focused on a branch of a tree across the street.

 

The army removed Kevin from the hearse, pivoted, and carried him up the steps into the church.  The many guests followed.  I handed-off my flag and followed the last of the guests and then turned and took a photo from the church steps back toward the place where two TV cameras were positioned.

 

The family did not wish for media to intrude but both NBC and ABC were there.  We had arranged to screen the steps with a big flag and with our many 3-by-5s.  If you look carefully in the center, you can still see one leg of one tripod.  We will do better next time.

 

 

And then comes the pensive time.  Most of us do not go inside for the service.  We each have our reasons.  So we would wait for the hour that a funeral mass will take.

 

At the beginning of that hour when we turn in our flags, the mood is always subdued.  The cheerful greetings are over.  The family, the other guests and the army are all inside the church.  The 300 students have gone back into their school.  We retreat into ourselves.

 

 

Afghanistan doesn’t have any oil.  The only reason we went there is because their culture facilitated the terrorists who were behind the 9/11 attacks.  The only reason we are still there is to help change that culture and make that country a responsible member of the world community.  The only reason Kevin walked into that police station was to help.

 

 

We waited through the service.  Kevin would not be buried locally.  We were to take him back to the funeral home so that he could then be moved to Arlington National Cemetery.  We would all make that return escort.  By the time we were given the go, it was full-down raining.

 

 

So we rode through the rain.

 

 

A few blocks south down Winfield Road it was 55 degrees at Cantigny – a place past where two other recent PGR missions have paraded and a place that celebrates the work of an army division.  Sadly, such work extracts its price.

 

 

May God keep your soul, Kevin Grieco.

 

 

 

 

 

 

        Kevin Grieco photo albums:  One

 

                                                Two

 

                                                Three

 

 

 

 

        back to FOUR HARD DAYS

 

 

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