When The Bagpipes Say Goodbye

I got out of our pickup just as the emergency vehicles arrived. Chief’s SUV leading the way, The Division Chief’s SUV, directly behind it – but he wasn’t driving it; my son was. So began the procession. Ambulances, and firetrucks from around the area following. On the ride down, we had already observed other responders’ vehicles along the highway: state patrol, county, sheriff, a city cop. I suspected they were either waiting to join the procession, or were simply there to provide a presence and to honor a fallen brother.

It was the day to honor and remember one of our local fire departments’ most loved and respected men.

I had never attended a fire Line of Duty Death (LODD) ceremony before, at least not in person. But I knew what it entailed and I knew what it meant to these men and women who would be attending.

As people started to gather in front of the venue, I stood there rather awkwardly, but it wasn’t long before I began to see a lot of old familiar faces. Hugs and recognition so appreciated. Pretty soon someone came out and announced it would be about 30 minutes, so this would be a good time to take care of any business before taking our seats.

I stood there a moment longer watching a uniformed firefighter standing with ax in hand stoically guarding the bus, from where our friend’s casket would be transported. It was all a part of the tradition, that would make up this traditional moving and reverent service for a fallen brother.

There at the entry was the guest book, along with photos of the chief and a copy of the poem my son had written for him when the realization of his death had hit him. I looked around the auditorium and noticed how beautifully the stage held a few remnants of this man’s life. Obviously this had been done with much love and understanding.

At precisely 1100 hours the bagpipes began to play “Going Home” in the distance. I didn’t understand at the time, but fire personnel lined the walkway as the casket was brought from the ambulance to the building. The uniformed first responders, were then instructed to find their seats before the casket was presented.

As the flag-draped casket was brought to the forefront of the stage, my husband was first to stand. And I was grateful. The room was filled with silence with the only sound being a creaking leather shoe, or a sole landing on the surface of the stage.

There would be a beautiful presentation of colors, while everyone stood silently in respect. Only the voice of the commander filled the room with his instruction for the march. So continued the solemnity of this event.

Throughout the service the casket was guarded with the men who held the ax, changing guard periodically throughout. The service is rich with symbolism and tradition, which adds to not only the respect, but the beauty. It is a reminder of all that our lost loved one has given in the line of duty - a time of thanks, recognition and honor. Above all of that, the service is a healing salve for those who remain.

We watched a beautiful video of our friend’s life and then his daughter spoke eloquently, with words deep within her. Sharing a part of her dad, continuing as she always had; sharing him through this man’s service to his community.

One of the most poignant parts in her sharing, was when she told of a time, that she was deep in despair. She told her dad, Daddy, you have prepared me well. You taught me to even be able to fight off the apocalypse, but I was not prepared for this. What do I do? His answer was pretty simple but often lost on most. “Just pray,” he responded, “read your Bible, and find something to laugh at every day.”

Pretty cogent advice, I would say.

Certainly the most moving part of the ceremony is the Ringing of the Bell and last call. And then the bagpipes said good-bye.

One thing I know, this man was always there, as many would attest to, throughout the day. One fellow firefighter took opportunity to tell us, “It was more unusual to be on a call when Chief wasn’t there, than be on a call when he was.” And he was the first to be in the mess of it all, tending to whatever was required.

From the time of his death, there was a lingering of his presence, but suddenly one would feel, and realize, “Oh wait, no.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a magical beauty in the way these services bring all first responders together. There was both police and fire there. The often fun rivalry between the red and blue come together at moments like this.

It took my breath away as we joined the final procession leaving the area to see two ladder trucks making an arch across the road way to fly the flag in honor of this civil servant. I was deeply moved that for most of the 20 mile trek back to burial, city cops, state cops, sheriff, whomever it took, blocked the side streets to prevent traffic from disrupting the funeral procession. What a wonderful city, county, state, nation we reside to know that this kind of service would be provided. 

I don’t know if it was arranged or not, but a local tow truck straddled the center lane of the highway to prevent impatient motorists trying to enter the procession. He wasn’t about to allow it. As one tried, he simply moved to the right lane and stopped dead in his tracks to stop the disrespectful motorist from moving any further, forcing them to pull over as they should. One person in a brand new expensive car without a license made it into the procession. He eventually moved into the left lane where the procession traveled and turned on his flashers like the rest of us. But soon, that wasn’t even enough for him, and he turned off his flashers and hopped back to the right lane hoping to make an inside pass. I actually had to laugh when I saw this tow truck block his path any further. He had no choice but to move over to the side of the road. It was the only negative moment in the day, but Chief would find a silver lining in that. Of course, respect cannot be forced; but stopping disrespect can.

As we arrived at the burial site, the sun had come out revealing a beautiful blue sky on a wondrous winter day. The sun shone through the pine trees and as drops of water fell from the warming of snow on the trees, it felt like tears raining from heaven. As I looked up, there was a fine mist of water revealed in the sunlight. Just a sprinkling of tears and love, that didn’t present sadness, but rather hope. I think Chief would have liked that and he would say: “Carry on. You are ‘hope’ in the worst case scenarios. That’s your job.”

Pretty sure, there is not many who did it better.

He will not only be missed by his family and friends, he will be missed by an entire community. Here’s to those who carry on.

I've Got Friends That Do

They say if someone shares a song with you, you should pay attention. It reveals their heart.                   

Though he doesn't write his own lyrics, I have heard that Tim McGraw won't sing a song unless it has special meaning for him. I absolutely believe that. His lyrics are generally always extremely heartfelt. There are only a few other country artists that move me with their lyrics as much and as often as Tim McGraw. Two, that I am specifically thinking of, are both dynamite song writers. They know how to touch the heart, and I think that can only happen when they believe what they are singing to their very core. But that is for another blog post. 

October 13th always takes me to Tim McGraw. Tim McGraw takes me to this song. It is the last song on his CD: Reflected; Greatest Hits Volume 2. 

That he chose this song to leave us with at the end of that CD seems entirely appropriate...and heartfelt.            

I just felt like sharing this one today.

This Cowboy's Hat

I love the lyrics to this old country song. It was written by Jake Brooks and first released by Porter Wagoner in 1983. But I think the most popular version (certainly for my family) was Chris LeDoux’s 1991 version. For those who are not familiar with Chris LeDoux, he was a very famous rodeo champion (bareback), later to become a country singer legend. And I do mean legend. He has quite the following, even after his death from cancer in 2005. His legacy remains strong - especially in our neck of the woods. I did get to see him in concert before he died - probably 1993 or 94.

A meme with some of the lyrics from "This Cowboy’s Hat" came into my Facebook Feed this morning. I smiled. That’s true poetry to me… But it reminded me of something from when my son was little. 

My son has had a cowboy hat since the time he was two years old...usually a little straw hat, at that age. But about the time he turned 7 or 8 we bought him a nice, but rather expensive (for an 8 year old) felt hat. It was black, shaped perfectly and he wore it a lot...usually for going out to the store, or church, or family gatherings. He took care of it well. My husband an avid hat wearer, himself, taught our son how to take care of a good cowboy hat.

There is an old saying that you "don’t touch a cowboy’s hat". It’s a personal item, you just don’t do it. Everyone knows that. Don’t they? 

Well when you are 7 or 8, no, you don’t; you have to be taught. Perfectly understandable. Also, entirely necessary.

Like all kids, my son often had other little kids come to play. This particular bunch loved to dress the role and play cowboys. Seems my son’s new black cowboy hat, became a popular item. The kids would pull it from his head, treat it disrespectfully; and sometimes just be kids...but honestly, it kinda became a pain in the neck. They also ignored my warnings and the abuse of the new hat continued.

So I had no choice but to take it to the kids’ mama. I told her my son had head lice. Lol hahaha NOT REALLY! But she interpreted my comment that way.

I didn’t actually tell her he had head lice; but rather, I told her kids shouldn’t be wearing each other’s hats as a standard practice - in case of head lice…. It just seemed like a common sense thing to me. Head lice is known to plague kids at times- in EVERY generation. In EVERY area. (So please don't go there!) Everyone knew when I was growing up not to share combs, brushes, or hats….it was kind of like being taught not to share your toothbrush….kind of a no-brainer. Simply personal etiquette and health.

Anyway, when I explained my thoughts to this mama...she didn’t really listen, I guess. She just ASSUMED that I said my son had head lice. Lol NO. He didn’t! 

But ya know what? Those kids never disrespected his cowboy hat again. lol Sometimes ya gotta “bulldog the Mississippi”. And sometimes a little trip down memory lane is fun...

Here’s the lyrics:

You know what
No matter how different we dress
Or look or talk, we all have a lot of things in common
That's what this song's about

I was sittin' in a coffee shop
Having a cup to pass the time
Swappin' Rodeo stories
With this ol' Cowboy friend of mine

When some motorcycle riders
Startin snickerin' in the back
Started pokin' fun at my friends hat

One ol' boy said:
"Hey Tex, where'd you park your Horse?"
My friend just pulled his hat down low
But they couldn't be ignored

One husky fella said:
"I think I'll rip that hat right off your head"
That's when my friend turned around
And this is what he said

You'll ride a black tornado
Across the western sky
Rope an ol' Blue Northern
And milk it 'til it's dry
Bulldog the Mississippi
And pin its ears down flat
Long before you take this Cowboy's Hat

Partner, this ol' hat's better left alone
See it used to be my daddy's
But last year he passed on
My nephew skinned the rattler
That makes up this old hat band
But back in '69 he died in Vietnam

The eagle feather was given to me by an Indian friend of mine
Someone ran him down somewhere around that Arizona line
And a real special lady gave me this hat pin
But I don't know if I'll ever see her again

You'll ride a black tornado
Across the western sky
Rope an old Blue Northern
And milk it 'til it's dry
Bulldog the Mississippi
And pin its ears down flat
Long before you take this Cowboy's hat

Now if your leather jacket means to you
What this hat means to me
I guess we understand each other
And we'll just let it be

But if you still think it's funny
Man you got my back up against the wall
And if you touch my hat
You're gonna have to fight us all

Right then I caught a little sadness
In that Gang leader's eyes
He turned back to the others
And they all just kinda shuffled on outside

When my friend turned back towards me
I noticed his ol' hat brim
Well it was turned up
In a big ol' Texas grin

You'll ride a black tornado
Across the western sky
Rope an old Blue Northern
And milk it 'til it's dry
Bulldog the Mississippi
And pin its ears down flat
Long before you take this Cowboy's hat

And here's the video. 

Great American

We lost a great American yesterday. It wasn't unexpected, but it was heartbreaking just the same. Rush Limbaugh, beloved conservative radio talk-show host, succumbed to lung cancer just 4 months after announcing it to his cherished listeners. And we were cherished; he made sure we knew that fact throughout his illness. But in truth, we always knew it. He always made us feel that way. In truth, it actually felt not only like we knew him personally, but even more, like we were family. In a way, we were.

True to his nature Rush fought his last battle diligently. He promised us he would show up to work, whenever he felt well enough and he did. He fought hard, just as we all knew he would - ever the optimist and bright disposition. 

Needless to say, I am heartbroken at the outcome. Millions were praying. I was one of those. I often found myself wondering what in the heck will we do without Rush. I can't think how many times over the 32 years of his broadcast that I said, "Turn on Rush!" And, "I wonder what Rush will say about that."

There has been a lot of talk about his death in social media yesterday and today. It didn't take long before it got ugly. I saw some of that ugliness yesterday, but it was rampant today...less than 24 hours after his death. This is what prompted me to write about him today - always a believer that "history belongs to those who write". And I am one, like Rush, with a continual desire and commitment to be a defender of truth. I had also seen the below meme about the contributions Rush has made to our society. I just wanted to say "ditto" to that meme; so below are my morning musings about some of Rush Limbaugh's contributions to our society.

Rush was the conservative voice when mainstream media went left. As Mark Levin said last night, "He was preaching the case for America," at a time we needed it most. He taught us how to fight the battle (that's figuratively - we have to explain that now) and not give up on our nation. He saved AM radio, while making us laugh every day. His show was on hundreds of stations, daily, with 15 million listeners. He created "talk radio". I was one of those that often said, "I wonder what Rush will say about this." It's true - he was fearless and criticism rolled off his back. He wasn't talking to those who criticized, anyway.

He came from a Godly upbringing, with a dad that taught him about politics and encouraged discussion. I remember hearing in an interview, Rush and his brother, David, talk about their childhood. It sounded very much like my own. They talked politics, so did we.

Rush made his salvation sure. I do not know exactly when that happened, but he made it public in the last months of his life.

I knew he was a generous man, giving to and promoting various organizations. But yesterday, I learned some wonderful facts about his generosity that had previously been committed to silence, with people deciding at his death it was now ok to share.

He bought several track chairs for veterans and he gave over 3 million dollars to Tunnels for Towers - an organization that builds homes for wounded veterans and first responders. He supported Freedom Alliance who help wounded vets rehabilitate. John Rich shared a story yesterday, where he was sworn to secrecy, but now felt he could tell us Rush had donated 100,000 dollars to St. Jude while helping John in a telethon. Laura Ingraham told of a time Rush left a $2000.00 tip when the two of them had had dinner. The people that worked for him stayed with him...some for his entire 30+ year career, because they were treated so well. I am sure there are countless other stories. It was his habit in life, not the exception.

I have felt like this before...deep sadness at the death of someone I didn't really know. And that was at the death of Andrew Breitbart, as well as Atonin Scalia. Warriors all.

Today, I see attacks throughout media. People just can't let someone die, anymore. I think it would roll off Rush's back. He wasn't talking to those people anyway. But that isn't "the way things ought to be".

No one will replace him.

Please enjoy the below interview with Mr. James Golden, AKA Mr. Bo Snerdley - Rush's longtime producer and friend. A very moving tribute.