Another PGR Funeral Ride

Randy and I went to another funeral of a fallen soldier with the PGR (Patriot Guard Riders http://patriotguard.org/ ). He was 31 years old. He had a wife, a three year old son, and an nine year old daughter. There were 150 of us. We formed a human barrier around the funeral home with our 3'x5' American flags on 8 foot tall poles. And yes, the Westboro Baptist Church and their infamous leader, Reverend Phelps, were there. They were not protesting the war, only the fact that our government is tolerant of homosexuality in the armed forces. The new law is, they must stay 500 feet away and can only protest the funeral 1 hour before it starts and 1 hour after it starts. All businesses surrounding the funeral home had security to block the crazies from protesting on their property.

They stayed there on a median in the street for the full 2 hours. There were about 15 of them. Men, women, and children holding their signs that read, “GOD HATES FAGS, FAGS HATE GOD, AIDS CURES FAGS, THANK GOD FOR AIDS, FAGS BURN IN HELL, FAGS ARE NATURE FREAKS, GOD GAVE FAGS UP, NO SPECIAL LAWS FOR FAGS”, and a new one, “SOLDIERS ARE FAGS.” It broke my heart. The adults stand in the center with the children surrounding them. They were singing a song to the melody of “As the Casons (spelling?) Go Rolling Along”. I can't remember all the words, but they were singing words like, as the fag soldiers' arms, legs are thrown in the air from explosions...I don't know, I had to go to another place in my head to block them out. The guard pulled 30 of us to form 3 lines deep about 50 feet in front of them so the family could not see them. We totally blocked them from their view. Vehicles were driving by flipping the protesters off, laying scratch in front of them and so on. They finally left.

We all road to the grave sight and gathered in a U shape around the tent. There was a 21 gun solute and the ritual of the folding of the flag. The soldiers, men and women, as soldiers do, stood strong with complete emotionless faces at attention. I know they had to go somewhere else in their head as I did. I was standing way to close to the family. The mother and her daughter were sobbing. I was standing there trying to hold back tears. I looked at the trees, the clouds, tried to think of other things. I held my flag in front of my face hoping no one would notice the tears that finally came rolling down my face. I finally composed myself when the 9 year old daughter came a shook our hands and thanked us for being there. It took everything I had not to let go the pain and empathy I felt. I will never stand so close again. However, after it was all over, I felt as if I did a good thing. I enjoyed the ride and all of my fellow riders.

A phenomenal poet and fellow blogger, Sir James E. Watkins wrote a poem that truly fit the entire experience, the war, the protesters... A poem called “Listen”. He posted it on 08/04/06. Check it out. It helped me through... http://endlesssaga.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_endlesssaga_archive.html

Now, on a lighter note....There was a business close by. The building was probably about 15 stories tall. Apparently the president of the company watched everything from his window. He came over and invited all of us to his employee cafeteria for lunch. Randy arrived late because he was one of the riders who escorted the mourning family to a restaurant they were all meeting. He also escorted the hearst to the grave sight. My husband exudes strength. He is always chosen to do special duty.

I only took a few photos at the staging area before the ride...If they don't upload, I will post them later.

My Walmart Visit and pickles

Okay, I got nothin'. I can't think of anything to write about. Then, I thought about the highlight of my day.

Devin and I went to Walmart. We are checking out. The cashier was a middle aged man, kind of nerdy, he had very thick glasses, a 1920's haircut and a plaid shirt on. Something was amiss about him. He was a little different, kinda special, if ya know what I mean. The plaid shirt wasn't the big plaid squares, it was fine lined small squared plaid. I hope that makes sense because the plaid shirt is what made my day.

I ask the cashier, “How are you doing.” He says with a very puzzled but concerned tone, “I'm having a weird day.” I say, “Oh, you've had a lot of strange customers today, huh?” He said, “No, a weird day. Every time I lean to close to the scanner,” as he points at his plaid shirt, “my shirt rings up dill pickles. It took me half the day to figure it out why I kept ringing up dill pickles.”

Jod bless him, he looked so serious and didn't even crack a smile when he said it. Devin and I looked at each other and a delayed laughter hit us. We couldn't help it. I said, “That's kinda funny”. He didn't respond. He just kept his head down, scanning and sacking, scanning and sacking. So, of course, Devin and I starting laughing again, but we quickly stifled it because the cashier was seriously stressed about it.

All I could think about after I left was, “How many people paid for dill pickles today that didn't buy any?” I kept picturing him ringing up dill pickles and freaking out, two, three times in row as he moved to and fro in front of the scanner. “What, what's going on?” (hee hee)

When I got home, I checked my receipt. If I would have seen dill pickles on it, I swear, I would have died..

Five - Breakin' the rule of the shoe meme

I was tagged to do the shoe meme by Zilla. Here goes...

Ok. I hate shoes. I'm certainly not one of those women who has 50 pair. If I had my druthers, I would go barefoot. Rocks, hot black top, and the fact I have to, keep me from doing so. I had to use 5 pairs because these are the shoes I wear.

The two pair of sandals I have, I love and wear the most. Those little black hippie sandals are my very favoritist. Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em. They are so comfortable. I love shoes that you can just slip on and off whenever. GOT to be able to relax when you need to. I kick 'em off in the car, at home, and at work when I'm at my desk. This is a MUST in a pair of Becky shoes. I suppose it's because I always feel lazy. However, this does not apply for my Adidas tennis shoes and Harley boots. Sometimes you have to have shoes for utility purposes only. Need my boots for riding and my Adidas for walking.

My Eastlands clogs, I wear them the least. I suppose I may wear them more this winter. I bought them because, of course, they looked comfortable, felt comfortable, and they slip on and off (a must), and were on sale. This is another must for me because I'm cheap, I mean frugal. Oh how I enjoy gettin' a bargain. It's a great feeling.

The most secret part of me revealed by my shoes? I guess that I'm lazy and I feel a little euphoric when I find a bargain.

Truly, I have no secret self, my life is an open book! I'm going to tag Lori for the shoe meme. Do not get this confused with the Champion Tag Team psychedelic, tie die, ribbon winning Lori and Becky tag, this is a shoe meme tag. I think Lori will play.

I'm going to see Lori!

Ahhhh! Devin and I are leaving to go see Lori tomorrow. I can't wait to see Sammy, Mike, Mitch, Milesy, Rachel, and Jordie! We'll be leaving tomorrow evening. Lori and I are going to blog together, so look out, we will be a tag team. I miss all of them sooo much!

Here we come sis! Wooo, woo. Randy said if I break my leg, get food poisoning, or drunk and have a hang-over...Don't even bother to come home.

I must be very careful. I must not eat at the Chinese restuarant in Buffalo, and only one drinky for me.

We must go flee marketing again! I promise I will not run out to my car to get anything as to not hurt myself... I'll send Devin. It will be a boo boo free weekend.

I can't wait!

How I Met My Husband

I can't sleep tonight. I usually don't have a problem with this. The last two weeks have been an exception. I don't know if it is the heat or what...Anyways...Sassy inspired me to share the story of how Randy and I met.

I had been single for about two years after a sad break up with, who I just knew was Mr. Right. I was 29 years old. I was going college, working, and didn't have a lot of time for dating. Now that I look back, I guess I was working at becoming the person I wanted to be. Yeah sure, I met some men. None of which interested me in the least; not even a spark.

I was living in a basement apartment I rented from a wonderful lady. She was like a second mother to me. Marcia was a beautician. Located right next to my apartment was her shop. I was always complaining, “When am I going to meet a good man. Are there even any out there? I want children. When was the last time I had sex?” (Maybe I should have left the last comment out...Naaahhh).

A woman, Joyce (my future mother-in-law), would come to get her hair done occasionally. She brought her grandson (Devin) a couple of times. He was the cutest little, fat, bald headed baby you ever saw. Marcia would yell, “Becky, come see the baby!” I would hold Devin while she had her hair done. What a sweet and mellow child. He always had a smile on his face.

Apparently, Marcia and Joyce decided they were going to fix me up with Joyce's newly divorced son, Randy. Marcia yelled at me from her shop, “Becky, come here. I have something I want to ask you.” Joyce and Marcia made their proposition. The first thing I thought was, “This guy must be ugly and a geek if his mother is trying to fix him up.” Then Joyce whipped out a picture. There was Randy leaned up against some lockers in an Army barracks. He had the bottom of his right foot propped on the locker, with his right knee slightly protruding. What a pose. He was shirtless with his hands in the pockets of his fatigues. Lookin' fine! Mmmm, Mmm, Mmm. ( I swear, about 5 years ago, I saw that picture. Randy was just standing next to some lockers in a T-shirt and fatigues, smiling. What ever. That is not he way I remembered it.) I accepted.

My fantastically, sweet sister Lori, and her two kids, Rachel (12) and Mitch (10) were visiting. Randy came over to meet me. Marcia, me, Lori, and the kids were in Marcia's kitchen when Randy arrived. He was about 5' 9”, about 145 pounds, thin, but well per portioned. (Thin was good. I've always liked my men built for speed, not for comfort.) He had the nicest smile I've ever seen. Mitch elbowed me in the side and said, “Aunt Becky, he the one, I can feel it.”

A ready made family. Randy was 35 and Devin was 10 months old. We have been together ever since. Devin's birth mother, who I always refer to as “the incubator”, never came around. Apparently, she moved out of state. I still have never met her or heard from her. If I did, I would shake her hand and thank her.