Home > Diary, Thoughts > Memorial Day Weekend 1

Memorial Day Weekend 1

The ride out from Ohio was magnificent for me. Unfortunately, not so magnificent for my riding buddy Jerry who’s aging but loyal Harley breathed her last just north of Cumberland, Maryland on I-68. Of course there’s no good time for bad news but her 106,000 mile engine chose to retire in a filling station… better than by the side of the Interstate. His ride was done so he made arrangements to have the bike brought to the Harley Shop in Cumberland and sat there waiting for a friend from Silver Spring to come pick him up. What are friends for. In that spirit, he sent me on my way and I completed my trip to Silver Spring in magnificent T-shirt weather. This was amazing because I somehow managed to miss all the heavy storms that seemed to always be around me, but never on me. I’ll take it.

Yesterday, it was cold and rainy. As I was about to suit up for breakfast, Jerry came by with a borrowed car and he and I and his pal Dave caught some yummy breakfast in a local diner. Hey, I would have ridden if I had to, but since a nice dry cage was there… in the cage I drove.

After breakfast we went on took Jerry’s roots trip and I saw where he grew up in Southern Maryland and then we went through Rock Creek Park and I took him by the old Kaukonen House in Chevy Chase (DC side of the line). Not much has changed in the old neighborhood, but it’s smaller than I seem to remember.

OK, a brief moment’s nostalgia and then down to the Mall and a poignant walk past the Wall. I won’t be posting pictures until I get home, but I am always deeply moved by the Presence one feels at the wall. I am always reminded that whether on served or not, no matter how one feels or felt about the Vietnam War, this moment in time defined my generation. To think that a third of all Vietnam Veterans are already gone is a sobering thought.

After our visit to the Wall, we went back out to Maryland to the Harley shop in Rockville, chewed the fat for a while and then down to Arlington to pick up my son Zach, who is still sleeping as i write this. With Zach in to, we battled traffic back to Silver Spring, had dinner with Dave and his family and retired to the hotel. Today is supposed to be a little warmer and it will not be raining. After breakfast, we’re going to fire up the scooter and ride back down to the Mall and check out the action. Tomorrow, of course, is the Run To The Wall… about which more will surely be revealed.

Good times, and hopefully… good weather.

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  1. Cyndy Consentino
    May 25th, 2013 at 08:57 | #1

    Dear Jorma,
    Thanks for the great post’ I hope your friends
    Harley gets better! Is 106,000 miles alot for a bike
    I have no idea???
    Happy Memorial Day!
    Cyndy

  2. John B
    May 25th, 2013 at 09:18 | #2

    Sounds like a good ride Jorma. That stretch of highway thru Cumberland is just beautiful; i have driven it many times on my way to visit family in West Virginia. I know right where the Harley shop is that you speak of. You most certainly lucked out weather wise . Here in NJ its been off and on torrential rain and cold! Glad you are getting that quality time with your son Zach . Time blows by so quickly anymore . As it says in Ecclesiastes “There is a time for everything and a season for everything under heaven” Happy to see you are enjoying your “season with Zach”

  3. carlo pagliano
    May 25th, 2013 at 13:35 | #3

    As an italian post WWII (1946), never have i experienced ‘winds of war’, just joined the National Service for a year and a half which time was spent learning abt Kerouac and the Airplane (’69) in absolute peace and fun, go figure the comparison with the beginning of ‘Full Metal Jacket’. But Jorma’s words over the years, on a reality so different from mine, found a fertile place within me, I never happened to get acknowledged of friends and family members lost in the combat or what happened to the Jewish people during WWII. We have now in Italy a National channel where every day they pass images of what happened to the people sentenced to deportation, their family life, where they lived, the suitcases they took with them on those trains. Jorma’s words are a guide to have proper thoughts when facing all this, and a profound lake of love is found in our hearts always at disposal to always remember.

    A fantastic lonely lough echoed in my room when I came to the point, in Jorma’s blog, about the storms. Might sound odd, but it aint, I personally witnessed a countless number of concerts held by Jorma over open-air Italian stages at the foothills of the Alps or the Apennines with thunders echoing closer and lightnings as a dedicated strobe show with sound effect, no fears, more adrenaline in the audience, more electricity for unforgettable concerts. May we have more and more.

    Always grateful Jorma!
    Steady As She Goes.