Ghost Rider

Its the weekend. For some its the time of week to get a little wild, or maybe take the family to some distant location. Normally I don't get a real weekend as most would know it. What little free time I have is usually spent looking at the heavens with my telescope or on my Harley. Not sure what diagnosis I would get for that kind of combination. After all, most Harley guys are rebel rousing beer guzzling wild men, right? I noticed, however, that this weekend seems like a pause for some reflection.

The weekend began, as it were, with our usual date. A local diner, called Willy Woodburns, a place which was destroyed by floodwaters in 2008, reopened under the same management, and with all the same folks serving our meals. Since we had rain most of the week, I decided to meet my wife there on my Harley rather than take the truck with her. The fresh morning breeze served to clear my head of the morning cobwebs and helped to awaken my senses. On the ride to Willys, I noticed a woman on a Harley riding towards me, and the usual two finger peace sign was exchanged. I always love women riders, because for me, a woman can handle a bike just as good as anything else. When I arrived at Willys, our waitress, Mary, seemed in her usual cheery mood. She gives off this wonderful positive vibe, always has a smile, and always goes out of her way to make my wife and I feel at home. I wish that we all could see what kind of a person she is, because her presence lights up the place like a spotlight in the dark.

After breakfast, I took a short, 30 mile ride to nowhere. The magic of the bike is that I don't need a destination, but rather just to savor the journey of the road ahead. My thoughts, as it were, turned to many of the mindless drummings of bill paying, the weekly chores I had failed to do, and then thoughts of my Uncle Dale as I accelerated northward from town. I always sense he is there riding with me, but I miss Dale terribly. He taught many valuable lessons to me as a young boy, and although we never spoke much after I married, I always hoped him and I could jump on the bikes and ride off somewhere for a day. I did pull off the road to see if a friend of mine was home. Ken is a co member of the local astronomy club, a simple man whose interests seem to shadow mine at times. Unfortunately not home, so I turned the bike for home, and as I pulled into the driveway I was thankful for another successful ride.

A couple weeks ago I ordered a book. For me reading anything much beyond how to operate an IPod or program my new Blackberry Phone has been nothing more than a mindless chore. So many things to do and so little time. I enjoy my work immensly, and it gives me a certain satisfaction as I ride my Harley thru town and seeing people living in areas I have helped to develop. Reading books used to be a great joy for me. I would always find books such as Jack London or Clive Cussler, even Tom Clancy, whose penning "The Hunt for Red October" actually helped inspire me to join the Submarine Service. Then marriage came, and then children, and much of my time was then spent working, chasing diapers, moving around, and just not really settling in one place for very long. The joy of reading turned into the nightmares of parenthood, as fathering two daughters took center stage over life's other challenges. Anyone who says teenaged daughters are not a challenge hasn't experienced the horror of boys showing up looking like they had an argument with a nail gun wanting to date your child.

On occassion I did take time to read passages from the Bible. Even wrote a college paper on the ills of homosexuality during the Clinton Administration's effort to allow gays in the military. Unfortunately I never really took time for myself to really READ. Even my mother in law could find herself totally immersed in a good Louie L'Amour book, but reading for me became a lost treasure, until two weeks ago. The book I ordered is called "Ghost Rider" written a few years ago, an autobiographical sequence of how the author coped with the loss of both his 19 year old daughter and his wife in ten months. I chose this book for a couple of reasons. Besides the admiration I have had for the author since 1979, I wanted some sort of confirmation that my observations on my Harley were not just some sort of whimsical diplay of nature. Last October, while riding thru the countryside in Iowa, as the fall colors were in their prime, I noted 3 bald eagles standing "in kingly guise" almost as if watching the world as they ruled nature around me. It was a most provocative moment, and it made something move in me to put my observations down in some form for others to follow. The book also gives me ideas, places to go, how to "observe" and even what TO observe. The book helps me to understand what NOT to do, and maybe how to cope with losing a loved one in ways no one else might understand. It is a wonderful insight into life on a motorcycle, but more importantly, a reminder of how fragile our human spirit can be.

The book arrived Saturday, and I have read the first three chapters already! It feels wondrous to be this excited about a book - ANY book, but it also is a breath of fresh air. At times the book can be quite sad, but then it can be a wonderful repose of wit and wisdom. Music normally is my first joy. I used to play several musical instruments, but somewhere along the way, my father made me understand that life as a musician would be a huge undertaking, and that has always been my biggest regret. Music is creation, it is all those human emotions, it is art. I loved playing music as a boy, but many times nowadays I truly miss the art of making music. My hope is at some point in the future I can at least learn a new instrument such as guitar or banjo. Music in whatever form has healing powers, and thie book is evidence of that power.

May we all find peace!

Boomer