Lt. Heidtman, may you rest in peace
The directions to the PGR staging area were easy enough - exit here, turn there. What I wasn't prepared for was the number assembled around the next corner, on that warm muggy Friday morning in June. I could only offer under my breath that well worn chunk of cliche - "Wow."
Well over 120 riders and assorted support vehicles were there in the staging area, all with one primary purpose - to let the family and friends of Lt. Heidtman know they were not alone in mourning the loss of their son, and that people from hundreds of miles away felt it worth their time to spend the day in appreciation of the sacrifice a young American was ready, willing, and able to offer in service to his country. Just when I'm ready to dismiss a large segment of a generation as Nintendo hobbled cable TV addicts, a Lt. Heidtman comes along and erases those cynical visions.
The day was not about politics, ego, or cable TV. It was about Duty, Honor, and Country - and an appreciation to those who live and die by that creed. The PGR group and many others had the sheer numbers to offer a shoulder to shoulder flag line that stretched for 200 feet or more on both sides of the street, and also at the street's end. Some in attendance had homemade signs reading slogans such as "Thank you Lt. Heidtman, You are a hero." The variety in demographic there to honor the Lt. & family was extensive. When the family and friends of Lt. Heidtman arrived in procession at the church, their first sight was hundreds of people holding the signs and large American flags, as if to let them know, "Land here, and you'll land in our arms -- We are here to surround and protect you with our support, and to help you carry him home." I was standing on the side walk where the Lt.'s Mother & Father's funeral car parked. It occurred to me as they stepped from the car that they were both my age, and their son was the age of my own daughters, spared perhaps only by the lack of a draft. No sense trying to hold back the tears now. Can't be done.
The next move was to assemble at the cemetery prior to the funeral procession's arrival to offer the same: a presence of people and flags in Honor of the Lt. and family. As the family and mourners arrived, again they were surrounded on either side of the pavement with a line of flags at least 200 feet long on both sides of the driveway. A number of mourners took the time to say to those with flags in hand "Thank you" or "You don't know how much this means to us" as they passed. Even the most fit among us appeared a might warm in the 92 degrees in the shade heat, a minor discomfort paled deeply in comparison to the pain etched on the faces of those who knew him well. As the family assembled at the grave, the PGR slowly and quietly formed a large circle around the group of mourners, again with flags raised high.
The service was not insulted by those who would seek through either their gross ignorance or for their lack of sense, the ill-gotten opportunity to express their protest of war at the expense of those in mourning. To protest a war is a gesture I can respect, and is often offered at first in line by those who have known the grim horror of war from a front row position, yet to slap the face of a family in mourning by offering that protest at a funeral or memorial service is a gesture I cannot accept, and will peaceably offer my wide self with US flag in hand to supplant the presence of those who would so dishonor a Soldier and Family.
If you have the chance to participate in service to the PGR or similar group, by all means, take the time to do so. The effort and gesture seems to be deeply appreciated by those in need at perhaps the worst time of their lives - the loss of a loved one.
This was my first PGR mission. God willing, it will not be my last.
