I think Ride Captains
should identify a good, nearby hotel and publish it (and only one) in the
forum. If they can extract a favorable
rate, that would be good too.
I like overnight
missions. Even without the camaraderie,
I get a chance to ride a couple hundred miles of unfamiliar country roads,
stand in a flagline and then rest. The next morning it is easy to be early for
the funeral. And when we are dismissed I
have the afternoon to roll a couple hundred back home.
David Austin Kirkpatrick
would have a long visitation – six hours.
The Holiday Inn allowed me to check-in early, so I lightened my saddle
bags before I toured Uptown,
When it was time, we
rendezvoused at the gas station/convenience store across the street from the
funeral home. We stood at the entrance
of the building,
and the entrance of the parking lot.
I was one near the parking
lot. A woman and a man approached me and
the woman thanked me and moved on to the next person. The man stayed with me and made several
comments, seemingly not anxious to go inside.
“Who are you?” I asked somewhat bluntly.
“I’m the dad.”
We talked a little longer
and then he moved on.
A few hours later as a guy
my height (6’3”) passed under our flags, the Ride Captain leaned over to me and
said that he was Dave Meyer, pro quarterback.
I wondered: what do I do about
that? Have him
autograph my flag?
There had been no
briefing. I think that was a missed
opportunity. We could have offered a
prayer and otherwise synchronized our comportment, particularly as it relates
to talking in the flagline. In fact there was lots of talking: continuous, full-voiced and irrelevant. Also eating and drinking. But what do I know? I’m from out-of-state.
I did my drinking and
eating at the Subway across the street.
When I said “all the vegetables” Amy included jalapenos without
double-checking. So that is a good thing
about
Plus, they spoke of
“sacrifice” on their sign. In small
towns, everyone with a sign employs it at times like this.
I finished the visitation
and spent some pleasant time with
His brother Jim is there
now. They both have wives –
It was still light so I
went to the covered bridge that the newspapers had featured in their
description of David’s return to
Notice the flags that line
both sides of the road. There is one
every fifteen feet and they extend behind the camera for a total distance of a
mile and a quarter, to David’s family farm.
On the fence in front of the house there was a large army flag and in
the upstairs center window there was a single candle burning. I took no picture of his home.
The papers all had
pictures of the bridge, however. It has
fourteen flags hanging from the rafters.
It was getting dark at
last. I changed from sunglasses to
regular ones and headed for the hotel. I
passed one more sign, an especially elegant one.
The next morning, a larger
group of us gathered at the same staging area across from the funeral
home. When they were ready to move David
to the location for the funeral service, we were called to attention at
curb-side.
After a short ride we
formed-up and I was taking pictures at ground level. Jerry works for the college and has keys to
the roof. Thanks to the view he gave me,
you can see that we flanked the entrance with our flags and we held the doors
for the mourners.
The Red Cross was there to
support us with water, coffee and lemonade.
Also doughnuts and friendship.
It is a beautiful campus
but it would have been empty without our flags and our people holding them.
The bikes would trail the
funeral procession so I volunteered to go with the cemetery detail. We got lost on the way. It was the second time that has happened to
me in
The problem was not a lack
of sunshine on this beautiful day.
Willa-Rose is a flower of
So I gave her a flag. She was glad to be holding it and I was glad
to see her holding it.
Sadly, the newest de facto
PGR member would be disappointed by the mission management. It seems we lined the wrong lane with our flaglines. As I
wrote two days ago, “Sure, we wish to honor the dead, but we could do that from
home. The reason we travel to hold flags
is so the surviving family and friends can witness our gesture of respect.”
Even worse: When the many cop cars rolled past our lane
without turning into it, we remained frozen like a deer in the headlights. We had time to move before the hearse and family
reached us, but we didn’t. Several of us
grumbled that we were out of position. I
am afraid that Willa-Rose saw my frustration turn to anger. As I prophetically wrote two days ago,
“Funerals require quick reaction.”
And yet worse still: We let him down. David did his part, but we fumbled the
ball. He died in combat. We stood stupidly in a grove of trees as the
hearse and family circled wide around us, out of sight.
We disassembled when the
bikes began to arrive, since the PGR (except for the cemetery detail) were the
last of the procession, a fact which rendered us largely irrelevant. Here you see us approaching one side of the
bridge and also traveling from the bridge to the parking area. The cemetery is just left of the field of
view.
We were the last to enter
the cemetery and would be the first to leave.
We waited through the graveside service far from the mourners who had
their backs to us. It cannot be fairly
said that we even attended that service.
This is the view from where we stood.
Sure, all through the two
days people would come to us and say, “Thanks for being here” and “It is great
what you guys do” but those are just things that nice people say in the sadness
of the moment. For the first time I left
feeling quite ashamed of our performance.
I was the first to leave
and retraced the parade route past David’s farm. The cemetery detail had taken a different
route, so I was pleased to discover this silhouette at a turning.
…and that was it. I stopped at the Holiday Inn where I had left
my helmet at the front desk (and thanked Heather for suggesting that I park the
bike under cover right at their front door) and started rolling north.
North of
I had worked the backroads to the upper-left corner of
He was driving/riding/moving-around-in
a vehicle that was part
Built her himself, and a fine job.
We rode together to
There was to be one last
memory before I would pass through the interstates of the
“For those who sacrificed,
for those who served, for those who died from their wounds after the Korean
War, for those yet to return, for those families who have endured great sorrow
due to the war, and for those who have, and continue to protect our freedoms
today in South Korea…YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN”
The five columns are for
the five braches. All were graffiti-free
except the Army. “Big B Go Army” it
said. Thanks for the sentiment, Big B,
but how ‘bout you grab a flag and come with us to a funeral instead?
Naturally, I found a big
rock and chipped that blemish off.
If any of you know Big B,
please introduce me. I can always find
another rock.
Pictures: visitation