Love of Strangers

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It was in desperation that we connected.



I was marching through thousands of motorcycles waving a TAPS paddle fan wildly above my head, acting like a tour guide trying not to lose any of the travelers behind me. We are 40 strong and walk with the curiosity of a child on their first day of school. I am barking orders and moving around our team like a sheep dog herding their flock. Stragglers are wandering off gawking at the indescribable, I am insistent in my corralling abilities to not lose anybody through this gauntlet of untouchables, and I stop many times to count and recount the people who are traveling with me through this quizzical experience.

He had been up for hours and hours before his team in preparation for their first event. Checking and rechecking the route. He needed to be sure that those who will be following him understand safety, regulations, and actions on the objective. The responsibility of the travel for 40 of them, and what would really happen during the event was a bit maddening if not intimidating. His team lined up one behind the other and every time they would stop, he would count and recount his team. Not a good place to get lost. This was a crazy experience and once the team all got lined up, he gathered his sheepdogs and they waited.



“Hey, anyone out here want some passengers?”



Our heads whipped around and our eyes locked. Neither of us would have guessed that this very moment would be a friendship that lasts forever. Two souls connected through commitment, respect, and a mission to walk beside the Families of the Fallen. This is Rolling Thunder 2007, and we met in the Pentagon Parking Lot with over 600,000 motorcycles meticulously lined up, side by side, and rows of every imaginable type of motorcycle that did go forever.

His team had been preparing for two days for the main event. He rallied them all together and the 40 of them had ridden in from Pennsylvania and stopped at the Washington National Cathedral for the Blessing of the Bikes. Then they joined the thousands of other riders from across the country at the Vietnam Memorial for a Candlelight Vigil. The silence was deafening as his team witnessed the Vietnam Veterans and Families touching their loved one’s names on the black granite wall, talking about the sacrifices by everyone during the Vietnam era and mourning the loss of a warfighting generation through homelessness, mental health issues, and the prevalence of suicide within the ranks.

My team of 40 North Dakotans had been preparing differently for this main event. We had arrived in Washington DC for the TAPS National Seminar for Military Survivors, we had spent Friday with thousands of other military survivors. The red shirts of TAPS had taken over the hotel, the breakouts of the seminar were deliberate to grief, to healing and to celebrate the life of the treasured ones we all loved. Preparation for our event is that someone who was a military member in your life has died. We were attending with the others who needed comprehensive care whom were also searching for ways to cope with the profound grief and trauma which can get so complicated by military service and the secondary loss of their familiar military community.

With motors roaring, the announcer is talking about the mission of the ride. “This Sunday morning of Memorial Day Weekend we will ride around our nation’s capital. We start here at the Pentagon to show the reverence deserved of those service members who never returned from war. Those Missing in Action are not forgotten. They took an oath to serve our country, protect those who can’t protect themselves and to fight for freedom. Those of us riding today are a living remembrance for all to never forget those who never returned home.” The speaker then humbly talked to the crowd about suicide. His friend had died by suicide, and he acknowledged the numbers, the problems with support and he made a commitment to rally all riders to please reach out to a friend, do a “buddy check” and be present for those who may need their comrades.

My new friend and I connected and came up with a plan. His team of bikers would be honored to ride my team of Fallen Families. Chaos ensued as the two of us figured out a creative way to connect the survivors with those riders who cared about them. We separated the group; riders on one side and facing across from them would be the honored families. The two of us herding our peeps and then placing ourselves in the center of game. Let’s just say that maybe it was reflective of a combination of “Red-Rover and Pick Your Partner”. We both knew who our teams consisted of and that was the key to our energetic bartering/auction type atmosphere of pairing up the leather and the lace.

We made connections between the bikers and the families. Blindly, we made matches that would end up being so very coincidentally intentional. A mother riding with the biker who shared the same name as her son. Sisters who were matched with brothers, fathers with marines and a brother with the biker chick! We both worked from our hearts and not by type of death or era of service. We made them laugh, found nicknames, and created this protective bubble of love right there in the Pentagon parking lot surrounded by 600,000 motorcycles with their engines running. Unknowingly, we created an exercise of new friendships that neither of us would have ever thought would still exist to this day.

Today, the crackle of the engines, the exhaust in the air and the teams are together again as we have been for 15 years. We have gotten wiser with age and although our intentions are still very motivated and actionable, I am wondering if we all feel a little slower and less intense. I know one thing for a fact as I watch both teams: we all believe it is much harder to swing your leg over the seat of the bike in a graceful manner!

The slow motorcade of the Fallen Families being ridden past the front of all the rows of thousands of others Rolling to Remember participants is powerful in its own sense. These passing bikes are adorned with flags flying and an air of patriotic dignity was being carried on the Families shoulders.

The bikers were carrying a sense of duty and a promise to never forget those who loved the warriors. Many are veterans themselves and carry the memory of a friend, a leader, and so many other service members quietly tucked away in sweet memories. Grief and remembrance show no age. Veterans reaching out to each other silently, nodding in recognition to the daunting task and the courage to continue to remember.

The Fallen Families carried their loved ones right on the edge of their heart. Families reaching out to each other and quietly comforting the emotion that can be overwhelming. The roar of the engines and the silence of the crowd is one of the most hallowed feelings ever. People are looking in awe as if silence is the only way they can show respect. Veterans are saluting; backs are straight, heels together and the forward stare that always eerily can look right through everything. If you are riding on the back and holding on to your rider, it is always at this moment that this team holds on to each other just a little harder.

Most everybody has never had this level of respect directed at them through such a unique format. The slow start to the ride is merely a minute and then we are all jolted back to an intentional focus and instant desire to hang on a bit tighter. The drivers revved their machines as they picked up speed incredibly fast and bolted into another part of the journey. From experience, if one is still waving at the crowd like she is a beauty queen, said person may have gotten a tad sideways when we went from 15-50 mph in a rocket moment and turned thru an onramp simultaneously. Just saying…Hang On!

The majestic and purposeful route that Rolling to Remember follows is a lifetime of history in thanks of a grateful nation. Befitting at the start, we cross the Potamic River and pass all the Arts of War Sculptures. The Saluting Marine is stationed at the start of Constitution Avenue, this is something to watch as most passing Veterans render salutes, and the noise heightens as the bikes accelerate through the corner. We pass by the National Mall, Memorials, and the White House. Still focused on the power of the route; Capitol Hill is on our right and then we respectfully cruise past Arlington National Cemetery.

The route is lined with thousands of Americans; flags held by Boy Scouts, Law Enforcement and first responders have closed the roads and are standing by for emergencies. Local families who have brought their children to witness the power of “Remembrance”. Tourists from around the world stand on street corners and cheer for their country of visitation. Snowplows are spread across streets, effectively closing them from any traffic. I wonder how everyone feels as they ride by a nation that still remembers and cares.

Nobody has ever fallen off the back of a bike. Nobody has ever had a miserable time, and nobody would ever give back the experience. How do you capture the power of the tears: a father who has hidden his emotions deep inside since his son lost his battle with PTS, is being hugged by the giant arms of a Vietnam Veteran who fights his demons daily. The biker who has served 3 tours in Iraq and must communicate via sign language because his hearing was negated after an IED destroyed his eardrums riding the mother of an Iraq KIA who is married to a man who refuses to wear his hearing aids. Kismet!

These friendships of silent communion will remain as vivid as the final memories of our loved ones who gave their lives. We honor all and understand the sacrifice of those who remain.

The big hearts, the kindness and true dedication to these families and supporters of the fallen families. Connected by the spirit of patriotism I found the Goodness and he has been standing by my side for years. A connection separated by 2000 miles, cultural differences and has stood the test of austere conditions and life challenges.

My friend Carl and I have been through some of life’s most challenging events. My heart hurts when he is not okay and so much can be felt if you stand still for a moment. We have survived the challenges of deployments, death of parents, children becoming adults and the challenging changes that happen when we age and become more involved in our own lives. We may not talk every day, or even every month, but when we connect it is a connection of protection and understanding. When his wife lost her health battles, we North Dakotans were all about sending the love to Pennsylvania. He is intertwined in my heart and soul as we both love our teams for what they stand for!

People care…sometimes we must squint hard to see the caring…and other times, those who care have been silently standing beside us, holding us up in the strength of their beliefs and warmth of their hearts. The dedication of oneself to a higher mission is honorable and unexplainable. I have been absorbing the silence and now have heard the revving of the engines of people who give themselves to a belief and dedication bigger than themselves. I am so grateful for those who stand by others. Those who reach a hand out in assistance or who pull you in for a hug because a touch can be healing.

Life is so much about having the opportunity to do good for others. The reward for doing good is to be reminded about how gratefulness feels. Thank you for all these years, Carl! You lead your team with a promise to experience one of the most powerful days ever. Our teams come together, and it is absolutely magical to watch survivors and bikers exchange….Hugs and a Promise.

Always follow your heart. Then "Hold On Real Tight! You never know who can change your life in a moment!

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