I cried when I read the email and for the rest of the afternoon every time I thought about it. A local Marine was killed in Afghanistan last week, SSGT Skylar Mote. He was being transferred from the air force base to a cemetery and a call was sent out to stand a flag line along the route.
I did not want to go, but I was compelled to. He was there for me, whatever our belief about what is going on over there, he was there for me.
So I grabbed my flag from July 4th and drove down to one of the meeting spots.
The turnout was amazing, in 95 degree heat we lined the street with flags and banners. I heard that streets were lined the whole way from the highway. I was close to the cemetery and a fire truck raised its ladder and hung our flag.
Then came the police motorcycle brigade, the main procession, several town cars and limos, 10-12 fire trucks from all over the area, FBI vans, several big trucks and vans from various agencies.
And then the club motorcycles. They came and came, hundreds of bikes. They then parked along the route and provided the final flag line at the cemetery. I did not bring a camera, it just did not feel appropriate.
I know if that was my son, seeing that community respect and honor would have an impact on me. I was honored to be a small part of that.
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