Archive for 31 May 2005

Memorial Day Letter

Hey Joe,

I’m glad I could be part of your experience during the Memorial Day weekend remembrance of our fallen soldiers, and especially those who are prisoners of war and missing in action. My dad gave me the helmet when he moved to NC last month (he was in Korea), and the inspiration to paint it up came in my sleep Saturday night. I woke up Sunday, mourning, and painted it black, then used an old stencil sheet my oldest son had from years ago for the lettering. The paint was still wet when I strapped the fifty-one year old relic on my forty-one year old head.

I think we are a lot alike when it comes to being there during these national events. We both think that it’s important to participate in some way in our democracy and the movements that define who we are as a nation. For whatever reasons, I felt very strongly to do what I did Sunday, and despite my erstwhile inhibitions, I rode hard and proud on my bicycle the 14 miles from my home in Fort Hunt to the Mall in DC, all the while carrying the heavy burden of freedom paid by the lives of others, and the steel brain-bucket to boot.

Not a veteran myself, I wasn’t sure if I would be cheered or jeered by the men and women who had served to keep our country free (or rich, or powerful, or some of us rich, and some of us powerful). After crossing Memorial Bridge, I pedaled slowly down 23rd Street and Constitution Avenue as the bikers roared with much approval down those hallowed halls. The crowds were enormous and I felt minimized and overwhelmed by the spectacle of Rolling Thunder. At 15th Street I decided to turn South back towards the river, content in the fact that my lone journey had given proof to some that I was honoring the captive and missing soldiers in my own way. When I reached Independence Avenue I realized that Rolling Thunder was again crossing my path, but this time without the fanfare and 10 deep audience that lined Constitution Avenue.

Only then did I realize that this was my chance to honor the riders directly and intimately. So I perched my pride on the Tidal Basin Bridge, and saluted the riders as they passed. The rush of mutual acknowledgment was extreme as thousands of riders passed me by, many nodding and waving their approval to my tribute to them and our lost boys. I stayed until the roaring engines had passed, and normal traffic had resumed, and the sky began weeping, to me small but significant tears of joy and sorrow about war, peace, love, hate, and the reconciliation that we all must face someday. It was only then that I straddled my machine and pedaled my way back home.

Fifty minutes later, I glided up my driveway to the welcome arms of my family, saddened by the fact that so many other families are still waiting for the return of their loved ones, still hoping for the warmth that I was fortunate to feel today. My love and thanks go out to all the soldiers past and present, to those who record their history, and to all who stand strong and proud in defense of freedom.

Thanks for being there,

Sean

Published May 31, 2005 in DC Life: The National Mall. Photography by (RSS).
Tagged: Rolling Thunder
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