Copied over from a post on Patriotguard.org site..
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This was sent to me in an email, thought those of you that were at Travis Griggs funeral would enjoy reading it. The email stated it was taken from a company newsletter and it was written by Lenna White as an editoral:
I'll admit in the past I had a fear of those men and women decked out in black leather and dew rags, seemly addicted to that trip to Sturgis. Little did I know that these lovers of Harleys and the open air would one day earn my utmost respect and an affectionate place in my heart forever.
My daughter and her family live in the small town of Inola, Oklahoma. My son-in-law is a football coach there. On November 15, one of his ex-players Travis Griggs, a promising young man of 24, paid the supreme sacrifice by giving his life for his country. The town was in shock. Never had the war in Iraq hit so close to home. Grigg's father had lost his wife to cancer just a year before and now his son was gone too.
As news of Travis's death reached Inola, more disturbing news followed. Protestors from a neighboring state were planning on making their appearance at the memorial service. Along with banners and chanting, this group of about 100 men, women, and children wanted to make sure that people knew how they felt about the war and the men and women who are fighting it. They didn't care that a father had just lost a son, or grandparents would never see their grandson again. They just wanted to exercise their "freedom of speech" and let the town and residents know their were against the war. I don't understand this. Don't they know that we have "freedom of speech" because people fought for it and even gave theirs lives to attain it?
About an hour before the service began, the protestors showed up. But also [and here's where I found my new heartfelt respect] so did about 500 men and women on motorcycles. Everyone time one of the protestors would begin to shout, one of the men would give a signal and all 500 engines were revved, drowning out the offensive slurs. On the way to the cementary, as a sign of respect, the bikers formed a line that extended for over a mile. A US flag was postioned about every 12-18 inches along the way. My daughter said it was a sight to behold, even through the tears, and it stirred the hearts of everyone in attendance.
So now when I see a group of these men and women wearing their black jackets an dew rags, straddling their Harley's, I have new admiration. I think about a November afternoon in a small Oklahoma town as friends and relatives said goodbye to their local hero. I think about those 500 bikers who made a difference that day just by being true Americans.
