Angels in the Aisles

There were angels in the aisles as we practiced our grief and rose above it to celebrate all that had been and is Dorie Shaw.

Five of them lined up at the microphone to speak of her compassion and the love she had for her grandchildren. These angels were well spoken and did their grandmother proud. We know that their Nani will always be their sunshine.

Three others had preceded the five, thankful for their mother’s life and what she brought them: a childlike endearment, humor, and a love for dressing just right. Dorie’s passion for serving, living the moment for family, and her faith are their inheritance.

Another angel ranged about the hall bestowing wings to be pinned on lapels, shirt pockets, and blouses – mementos that call attention to the angel in everyone there. Still more roamed among the congregants and hugged it out, blessings passed from one angel to another.

Others rose and spoke of the Dorie Shaw they know and love, her Godliness and devotion and her steadfastness to friends.

It was all so fitting in the face of a dastardly foe that found it impossible to wipe away all that Dorie Shaw is.

Soon we’ll put the wind in Kevin’s face again to help erode the travails at his great loss and bring forward all those good things that can fill his heart.

Remember the part you play as angels in the aisles, on the road, and in the home and do not shy away from bestowing heartfelt words, caring looks, or hearty hugs that will buoy up a brother or sister in need.

Peace

jerry

Memorial Day Rumination

I am the son of parents who met while serving in the US Navy during the Korean War. Two of my uncles served in the Navy and one of those uncles, my Uncle Bill, had two sons who served; one in the Navy and the one in the US Air Force. None of them were injured or killed while in the service. Their holiday is more rightfully Veterans’ Day.

Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who died while serving in the armed forces. The day was initiated in 1868 and was held on May 30th up to 1972 when the day of remembrance was moved to the last Monday in May. There will be parades, gatherings at memorials in parks and shopping malls all around, and some will visit the gravesites of the fallen where volunteers have placed American Flags at the gravesides.

I have not served our country in the armed services and I don’t know anyone personally who has given the ultimate sacrifice for freedom. I was in the last draft lottery that brought young men into the service to send them off to Viet Nam. I often say that I’m just as glad Uncle Sam didn’t invite me in for a trip to Southeast Asia. In fact, I repeated that sentiment to Eric just a few days ago when I ran into him during a walk in Crescenta Valley Park. Eric was our starting center on the ’71-’72 Glendale Community College team, the Vaqueros. Shortly after our game on the day our lottery numbers came out I remember hearing Eric’s exclamation from the front of the bus as he realized he was drafted. I was well above the top number to be called at 253.

While I make that statement from time to time it is not entirely true. My father was aboard the aircraft carrier USS Point Cruz somewhere near Korea the day I was born. Cindy and I had an opportunity because of an overly long port of call during a recent cruise to tour the USS Midway in San Diego. I was thrilled all the while I went from cabin to cabin, command centers and through the flight and hanger decks while getting just a feel for what my dad went through. We came home and I got the name of his ship from my mom to do some research on it and wrote my dad a letter about his ship, added some old photos, and talked about my experience on the Midway. In the letter I made a confession to him that until that time I hadn’t told anyone – I wish that I had enlisted in the service out of high school rather than flail about in college for the first couple of years.

Though I did not serve I nevertheless mourn the loss of young lads and lasses that I would have served with had I gone into service. I mourn those who are injured and killed in every conflict and act of terrorism. We memorialize the fallen – as a country, as communities, as families, and as individuals. We create space to remember them in some way with special to ourselves.

I lost one of my best of friends while in my twenties to a car accident with a drunk driver. I still don’t completely understand God’s reasoning for it but I’ve gotten over the bitterness of it thanks to the laying on of hands and the prayers of a very special group of junior high kids and their advisers. Since losing Doug I found myself at Bass Lake over an occasional Memorial Day weekend, a place he and I went a couple of times with his parents’ boat and skied like crazy. To memorialize my friend I’d walk down to the lake from my grandparents’ home and stroll along Ski Beach until I found someone willing to take me out for a memorial run. Ski people can be very accommodating. I’d ski the crap out that lake either until my new friends got tired of it or I wiped out in some spectacular fashion. Nowadays I have a Dr. Pepper and lift it to him in memory. You see? It’s the little ways we can remember those we’ve lost and it’s all fine and good as long as it keeps the warmth of their memories close to us without sending us into the cold of bitterness. Bitterness doesn’t do us nor anyone close to us any good. It took a small miracle for me to find that out for myself.

What does this have to do with Memorial Day 2017? Well, there are hundreds of thousands of people memorializing their fallen today, mourning their losses, and some have every right to be bitter. I pray they don’t fall to bitterness or if they have then some miracle takes place for each one and they find those that will comfort them.

All in all, remember our lost well, keep warm memories of them alive, and pray for peace.

jerry

Dear LCpl Getscher

Dear LCpl Getscher (Caleb),

This coming September 11, 2016 I will be riding in the Ride to the Flags from Naval Base Ventura County (NBVC) to the 'Waves of Flags' at Pepperdine University. I’ll be riding along with a few friends of mine from the Southern California Victory Riders’ group and in the midst of 500 or so bikers.

I have been reading your story and the bits and pieces of it that I can find on the internet because I’ve wanted to write something for my friends, my family, and the greater riding community so that they will know why we ride the RTTF and to help myself to have a deeper understanding of the event and the man we are riding for, you. We ride, we give, because you count and because your sacrifice has incurred a debt that cannot be fully repaid. I give to help you establish yourself as a new man with new capabilities. I'll ride to show I care, I’m giving to help even just a little.

I confess that I have not served our country in the military and though from time to time I’ve regretted that, or at least considered what it would have been like, I am just as glad that Uncle Sam did not invite me to Southeast Asia. This is probably a part of why I am having such a hard time understanding the depth of your sacrifice, both on the field of battle, and now at home as you continue to work through your loss. You are an incredible man. Thank you for your service – I am sorry that it requires such a drastic sacrifice.

Though my reading about how you were injured and what you’ve gone through in your recovery has been sobering to me, I have come across some things that give me hope. Hope for you, hope for our future. I believe that beyond the persons counted as casualties it is the mothers and spouses of those men and women that feel it most keenly and I’ve seen that your mother and wife are exceptional women who, while they’ve suffered that loss alongside of you, they have also had your back all the way. I thank your mother and your wife for all they’ve suffered and for all they do with you and for you.

The Getschers at home

There is one picture that has stood out for me that gives me hope for you, rather several pictures. They all have two things in common, you and your daughter on your lap. Invariably, she can be seen with the most genuine of smiles and completely at ease with you. You, the man you are right now, is the dad she knows and loves and it is obvious to me that she thinks the world of you. I loved reading how the two of you sprawl out on the floor and play together – it speaks volumes about who you are to each other. Knowing that you have the space to do that and that your home is set up in a way so that you can move about is a comfort to me. It seems that it’s the least we could have done for you. I am thankful for your daughter and what she means to you and your family.

I hope that you find a way to define your new normal and that it gives you a sense of worth and fulfillment. I pray that your new normal gives plenty of room for the extraordinary and that the extraordinary becomes the baseline for your new normal.

Thank you for being a man of honor and sacrifice, a man of dedication and determination and a man who cares for his friends, family, and country. I appreciate you for being a person who takes a stand for the oppressed.

God bless you.

jerry white

This is the link to the Southern California Victory Riders’ donation page for those who want to participate with us in spirit as we ride or who want to join the team for the day of the event: 

Southern California Victory Riders' Donation Page

On The Memorial Trail

Two memorial services in two days. Consecutive tear evoking emotional roller-coasters that couldn’t have been more different from one day to the next. And yet at their base level they were the same. The cast of our human dramas had changed, the names on the marquee were different, the size and scope of the production were polar opposites, and the lines for the key roles were scripted with different pens. But at the end of each day we’d bid farewell to a friend, parent, sibling, and spouse and the aches in our hearts were all too similar.

Friday, April 1, 2016 Betty M. Horst was laid to rest at the Eternal Valley Memorial Park in Newhall, California, nine short days after her passing on March 23, 2016. Betty is my sister Stacey’s mother-in-law, a relatively recent addition to our extended family with the late summer wedding for my sister and her husband and friend Glen. (I refuse to think we are in the fall season of our lives) About 30 or so gathered in the Chapel of The Oaks at the mortuary. There are a couple of 36” flat screens mounted on the wall just above the chancel, big enough for anyone seated at the back pews to see clearly as the photo montage of Betty’s life rolled throughout the service from black and white portraits through the family shots with Glen as a little boy in suspendered pants and then as a young man with black mustache while wearing Magnum style shorts and finally shots of Betty at various events.

The program for Betty’s service in front of me is a classic “In Loving Memory” style with a photo on the front and historical dates under Betty’s photo. There are a few key photos inside the heavy stock paper document with the 23^rd Psalm printed on the facing page while on the back is more historical data. There was no agenda other than to read the Psalm and talk a little about the woman we knew.

Stacey’s grief was palpable while Glen held himself in check with a key role to play in the service. This was the memorial service for a member of our parent’s generation and was all the more real to us with the struggles of our dad and my wife’s mother ongoing. As folks arrived they came to pay respects to Glen, Stacey, and Gene, Betty’s husband of 65 years. Tears flowed and hugs were exchanged while some words just couldn’t be expressed.

The itinerant pastor took the dais after the mortuary representative welcomed us and thanked us for attending. Itinerant Pastor is my best description for him. He was next in line from Eternal Valley’s call list who spent all of fifteen minutes with the family in preparation for the service. He read the Psalm and spiced his oration, largely about his own experiences, with seeds of hope for those Betty had left behind.

Glen presented his mother to us with words from an aching heart at the loss of his mom. He was eloquent without being flowery. He was honest and direct about how she lived, what her passions and prides were, and what she means to him. When he faltered he gracefully gathered himself to the task and let us come to know Betty M. Horst all the more deeply. Glen provided all we need to hold the memory of Betty close to our hearts as we pray for peace for Glen, Stacey, Gene, and the rest of the family and friends.

After the service each of the attendees made their way over to gather in the courtyard of a Mexican restaurant for appetizers and soda. Cindy, three of Stacey’s kids, Kaylynn, Brad, and Jeff, and I took a table inside and had our own family time when the courtyard setup was overrun. We made a place for Stacey to get a break from it all to join us from time to time. A little Mexican restaurant was where the celebration of life took place and that was all right with us.

On April 2, 2016 I met seven other motorcycle riders at a Shell station in La Canada to ride out to the Centerpoint Church in Murrieta, CA. We picked up a ninth rider along the way and took a businesslike trip down the freeways to join up with another 60 or so bikes in the parking lot. It was a destination ride to celebrate and memorialize our friend and fellow rider, Joe V. Ramos, who had lost his battle with cancer. Cancer sucks.

Joe V. Ramos was taken on February 18, 2016, over 50 days before. Joe was a former California State Park Ranger and a motorcycle enthusiast. I met and rode with Joe and Karen, his wife, on one ride. That’s it, one ride. I wish it had been more. I was touched by Joe through the Facebook posts I saw scrolling through as he battled cancer and finally succumbed. The best that I can explain it is that I was moved by God’s Spirit to write a memorial post to Joe from and with our mutual friends (http://ironsideup.blogspot.com/2016/02/tribute-to-joe-ramos-dear-joe.html).

Centerpoint is a cavernous meeting hall with stackable chairs for several hundred. A 30 foot screen is mounted center stage with two 8 foot screens to either side, both are conservative estimates. The program of Joe’s service is printed on magazine quality paper with his State Parks photo on the cover and a Sunrise of 6/3/1959 and a Sunset of 2/18/2016. This is a man in the early part of my own generation, a peer, if I could be called that. A history of “Team Green” is printed on the inside cover with a photo of Karen and Joe riding off and a photo of Karen, Joe, and his two kids, Amanda and Joe. The contrast to Betty’s service shows up on the agenda. There was meaningful music to Joe and a thorough Eulogy from long-time friend Ken Roybal who Emceed the service that included special guest speakers and presentations from the California State Park Rangers that included a flag which had flown over parks where Joe had loved and served as a Park Ranger. There was a Proclamation from the California State Senate and plaques with various insignia from the State Parks and four riders’ groups; The Inland Empire Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, The Lost Coast Victory Motorcycle Club, The Southern California Victory Riders, and the Southern San Joaquin Victory Riders Motorcycle Club. I think I mentioned that Joe loved riding and loved riding with Karen.

The service was wrapped up with an open microphone with heartfelt comments from Karen and the two kids who all did a wonderful job of sharing Joe with us. Several friends took the mic and shared stories of Joe. The open mic was followed by a video tribute, closing comments, and an excellent prayer by Kevin Shaw.

We adjourned to ride and eat, two of Joe’s favorite things. We rode in a stately group of seventy bikes or more, complete with blockers and sweeps and a lighted State Parks vehicle. It was a tightly packed and well ridden tribute to Joe and his rider’s legacy. Dale Moews had the honor of riding Joe’s Anti-Freeze Green Victory Cross Country. Dale was as profoundly affected by Joe’s life and death as anyone I met throughout the day. Peace Dale.

We gathered at Ken Roybal’s place in Lake Mathews in the Perris area at the end of our 65 mile ride. We had food and the fellowship of riders and family, two distinctions that blur during our times together.

What draws us to memorial services? I can think of four things and many times our attendance is a combination of the first three. We attend because we are there to honor and celebrate the life now gone by, we go to be a comfort to the family and close friends of the deceased, we go to be comforted, and in the end, we go because we’ve lived a life worth remembering and are the one being celebrated.

Still, why do we have a need to memorialize and remember? I believe it is because we have a deep need to be connected to people, someone special to us. And because of that deep need, once we’ve found someone, we realize that it is difficult to let go without wrapping up our memories with other friends and family members.

As a Christian I have what I’m sure some people, even other Christians, would think of as an odd take on this. It was during that somber 65-mile ride that I considered what Jesus felt about the need to be connected. Did He have it? Yes He did. While it was paramount for Jesus to be connected to the Father, he surrounded himself with close friends, 12 disciples, his mother Mary, Mary and Martha along with their brother Lazarus for whom Jesus wept (John 11:35).

His need was so deep that Jesus took several of his closest disciples with him to pray during the darkest hours of his ministry on earth. He was disappointed when they could not remain awake with him as he faced the final hours of his earthly ministry, his betrayal at the hands of someone he loved, his trial, beating, and crucifixion. The Sacrifice that he made gives us hope as we remember those we love and have lost at their final day with us.

So, for the facts that Jesus wept for a friend, remembered them fondly as they passed on, and made the ultimate sacrifice for us, I say we should memorialize to our hearts content and remember Joe and Betty for the lives they lived, for the love they gave, and that we hold on to them in our hearts to live our lives knowing the difference they made to us.

Keep the iron side up, ride with passion, live with integrity, love like no one does it better… Peace

jerry