Dad’s Stories

My cousin Marian recently provided me with a wonderfully fun glimpse of Dad’s life, covering all the ground from his childhood to before Alzheimer’s disease started to chip away at his memory. It sounds like Marian and Mary (another cousin) were putting a heritage book together. The project stopped when a computer crashed and all the pictures that had been gathered crashed along with it. Dad wrote up his contribution before the project met an early end. Here are the memories Dad offered:

Memories

Written by Rev. Irvin Hultin

As I have gone through the area of the old homestead where I lived as a child, it brings back many memories of the past. The farm that dad farmed was only one quarter section; one half mile from the Pembina – Walsh county line with the farm in Pembina county. The living place was a plot of about six acres in the woods on the south west corner of a quarter that belonged to Ole and Haver Foss. The north branch of the Park River flowed through it which made it a nice living place. The farm place was about five miles west of Hoople.

Though I do not know of any details, I understand that dad and mother lived out in western North Dakota and farmed on the reservation for a few years before going back to the eastern part of North Dakota. The homestead was not on the quarter of land that dad owned but was in the corner of the next quarter north owned at that time by the Lanes. At the time I was born, it was owned by Ole and Haver Foss. Lane died in World War I. He was reported as saying, “I would rather fight the Germans than the wild oats.”

Dad farmed only one quarter of land. He used about ten acres of that for pasture and the rest for wheat, oats, barley, corn and a few potatoes. When the grain was up and the mustard began to bloom four of us boys, Merton, Vernal, Alvin and I had to go out to hoe the potatoes and corn. In the spring we had to herd the cattle along the roadside until the pastures got high enough to feed the cattle. After the fields had been harvested we would put the cattle on the fields to pick up any grass that may have come up. Sometimes we had to stay out of school to help.

The house on the homestead was on high ground. It was not as we think of a house for ten children. The kitchen was a good size and so was the living room. One small bedroom was on the main floor and there were two rooms upstairs, one large and one small. Doris and Ann slept in the small one. Where did the boys sleep? I remember Vernal and I slept on a wood bed while we were small. When the wooden bed was discarded, Merton and Alvin slept on one end of the full size bed and Vernal and I slept on the other end. By that time some of the older boys were working away from home. When it came to meal time you can imagine what it was like. At times there weren’t enough chairs to sit on. One time dad’s brother, Uncle Olander came to visit. He made a couple of benches which solved the problem. When there was company there wasn’t enough room around the table so it meant some of us had to heat later or take our plates elsewhere.

Besides the house there was a log barn with a hay loft. There was never enough room to store the hay for the whole winter. Hay had to be hauled in from time to time all by team and hands. Soon the logs began to rot away and a new barn had to be built. The solution; dig out an embankment and make a basement barn. The ceiling and hay loft roof was taken over to the basement barn and used for the top, so we still had a place for hay.

The granary on the place had at one time been a log house. It had two lean-tos, one on each side. The west side was used for oats, the middle section for wheat and the other lean-to was used to house the old model T car. One day dad drove the model T into the garage and went right on through, down the river embankment and came to a stop before it hit the river. The end of the garage flipped back down and the car had to be pulled back up.

At threshing time the grain would be hauled from the thresher with team and shoveled into the grain bins (there were no elevators then). We younger kids had the job of keeping it back as it was shoveled in. We had a smaller granary that was used primarily for wheat. When it came to grinding feed, we used an old burr mill powered by a six horse power engine that was always hard to get started which was done by pulling the flywheel and using every trick imaginable to get it going. The same engine was brought up to the house to run the washing machine. The washer was an old wooden machine that was made for washing by hand but Helmer fixed to up to be driven by engines.

Helmer, Arvid and Leonard bought the first Maytag washer about 1928. Helmer took it upon himself to build a cistern. We no longer had to carry water to wash from the river or well. This was a big improvement.

The Hartford school that we went to was less than a mile from home if we went across the pasture and field. If we followed the road it would be a mile. In the spring when the water was up in the river we had to follow the road until the water went down. In the winter through high drifts and heavy snow we walked the short cut to school.

All ten of us kids went to the Hartford school. Ann was the only one that didn’t finish the eighth grade there as we moved to Hoople so Vernal and I would go to high school.

The Hartford school was a small white building on the corner of McDonald’s land. It had six or seven trees on the yard, a barn and two outhouses that usually ended up in a snow drift in the winter. The barn had been used for the teacher’s horse in former years when that was the transportation.

When I was in the fourth grade the school was remodeled to have a basement, two restrooms, cloche rooms and a furnace. Up to that time it was heated with a pot – belly stove on the main floor with a long string of stove pipes to the chimney at the far end of the building. All classes were at the front of the room. Classes would begin at 9 am with a 15 minute recess and noon hour (this was only half an hour in the winter).

My classmates were Norman Langrude, Glenn Riley, Donald Matter, Vernal and for a time Margaret Olefson. Margaret was a real ‘tomboy’. She could take me down and sit on me or take some of the other boys down and sit on them. Vernal and I started together as we were only fifteen months apart in age. At the same time Russell, Merton and Alvin were also going. In a couple of years Russell and Alvin would finish and Ann would start.

In the winter Russell would go early to start the fire for the teacher. When Russell finished school the job fell to Merton. The students had to sweep the floors and clean the erasers. Punishment for misdemeanors was to stay in at recess of after school. There are funny things that did happen in school. Alvin was to write the final examination for the eighth grade that was sent out from the county superintendent’s office. One of the questions asked was “what book was the character – John Silver in?” Alvin didn’t know the answer as he had not read the book, Treasure Island so he left it blank. The teacher in looking it over said she would not send it in if he didn’t fill in the blank. The only John Silver he could think of was in the comic strip from the newspaper, “The Katzenjammer Kids” which he put on the examination paper. The teacher didn’t like it very well but she did send it in and he passed the exam.

Another time just after school was dismissed for the day, Vernal and Reynold Bodmer ran through the school with muddy shoes. As the started to go home the teacher called Vernal to come back and clean up the mud. Vernal’s answer was “What are you hired for?” He had to stay after school.

Doris tells of one of her teachers that brought willow sticks to school to discipline the kids. She called them her “gads” and evidently used them. Think what would happen today if a stick were used to discipline students.

There were many experiences that go back to our very early years. We had very few boughten toys and things to play with when we were kids. Vernal and I frequently went to the back of the small granary where dad had thrown some of the old worn out parts. We would have fun playing with some of the junk. Sometimes we would mix water with clay. Sometimes we’d mix water and ashes that had been thrown on the river bank and try to form it into a house or some other structure.

I marvel that mother was able to keep track of us all the time. One time in the spring when the water was high in the river we were allowed to go to the place where the straw shed had been built in the barnyard and make a swing on the poles that had been left from the top of the shelter. We sat there swinging and enjoying watching the water flow by. Water has always fascinated me as can be proved by the fact that when the water was low in the late spring I would build a dam across the river so the water would get high on one side. I would try to have an outlet in it that would let some water out to keep the dam from breaking. I recall one time that the dam broke and it let out so much water that dad who had been on the other side had to take a long way home. Sometimes Vernal and I played with the toads we had found.

One year our neighbor had Vernal and I trap pocket gophers on his summer fallow. He gave us a nickel for each one caught. We would set the traps one day and check them the next day. That summer we caught one hundred and five gophers. We didn’t get rich on it but we had something to do. When he cultivated the fields he would watch for the sticks we tied the traps to. He would take time to move them out of the way. The other six boys usually had a job in the neighborhood.

Vernal and I never had a gun of even an air rifle. The next best thing was to make a slingshot. We became pretty good with the slingshots. It was not unusual to see us boys walking around the yard with a slingshot in our pockets and a pocket full of stones. Stones were a scarce commodity in our area. We often broke old pieces of iron to use for ammunition. Sometimes dad would take us a couple of miles west to a gravel pit. We would gather a bag of stones that would last for awhile. There were certain birds that would be our target. These included blackbirds, sparrows, and a number of others. Robins, orioles and most song birds were safe from our slingshots.

We didn’t have a gun so it was rather difficult to hit a gopher with a slingshot. We would catch them with a snare that was put around a hole and wait until the gopher would come up and out. We would pull the twine and catch a gopher that way.

Arvid was the hunter of the Hultin family. During the winter months he hunted skunks, raccoons and badgers. He also trapped weasels and mink. Many of the furs would be stretched out on the back of the old granary. It could get pretty well perfumed around that area.

I remember hearing it told of Arvid shooting at squirrels with his twenty – two rifle. He shot several times at a squirrel and missed it. Alvin sneaks up with his slingshot and with one shot brought the squirrel down. We got quite proficient with the slingshots.

We four younger boys, Alvin, Merton, Vernal and I were together more than we were with the older boys. Henry and Norman Langrude made frequent stops at our house especially in the summer when the chokecherries and black haws were ripe. We know where the best ones were and would find them to eat. Our teeth would be stained from them as we would eat them by the bucket and also Juneberries.

It was our duty to find and pick the berries for mother to make preserves for the year. This began with the gooseberries which took a lot of time to get them from the thorny bushes and even more time to pick off the stems. Mother usually did that job. The chokecherries were easier to pick and didn’t take as much time. Later in the summer the plums ripened and we would go plum picking. Doris often joined us for this. We would take a bag and when it got full we would set it in the brush for dad come with the car and pick up. We usually picked a pail full for the land owner as a good will gesture (Jimmy Milchel’s woods.) I have seen very few places where there were as many black haw berries as there were in that area. In the late fall we would find a few hazel nuts. They were good but often were full of worms.

After Doris finished high school in 1931 she worked a summer for Mary Hurtt. She also worked as a telephone operator in Hoople. The next year she left for Chicago Evangelistic Institute. She worked in a home to take care of her expenses. While she was there, mother died January 3, 1931 from pneumonia. Doris came home at that time and stayed until 1935 when she, Vernal, Ann and I moved into Hoople so we could go to school. Mother was 52 years old when she died. The next four years we lived in several different places in Hoople until we were all finished with high school in 1938. I worked one summer at Ted Holts. Merton was working at Henry Jackson’s farm. I left Hurtts in January 1933 and went to Chicago to attend Chicago Evangelistic Institute. It is now known as Vennard College of Iowa. I came home in the summers to help on the farm.

One summer I worked at Bethany Orphanage at Bethany, Kentucky. I began my pastoral ministry at Hannah and Wales, North Dakota while attending University of North Dakota. From there I went to rural Mandan and Fort Rice, North Dakota. I served the United Methodist Church at Turtle Lake and McClusky, North Dakota next. The next three years I served a point parish which included Sterling, Braddock, Moffett and Driscoll, North Dakota. Then I moved on to Hazen, Beulah and Zap in North Dakota. We lived at Hazen at the time they had the Zip to Zap at Zap, North Dakota. We were assigned to Tuttle – Robinson parish next. From there we moved north to a point charge of Rocklake, Clyde, Egeland. Then to the southern part of the state to Marion and Dickey. I retired in 1986 and moved to Minot, North Dakota and served two years as a Visitation Pastor. In 1988 I had a heart attack.

I met Frieda when I was pastor at the Turtle Lake United Methodist Church. We were married August 3, 1964. Reverend Everett Owens officiated. I think it was the hottest day of the year – 103 degrees. Frieda doesn’t remember it being that hot.

David was born July 22, 1968. Judy and David met at work in Fargo. David is assisting manager and Judy works Graphic Arts on the computer. Both are employed at Express Press. They have a little doll, Emily Elizabeth born August 26, 1998.

Worship

Today marked my first performance with the Bethel praise team for the Sunday worship services! It really was a big deal for me … but let me quickly take the “me” out of the story, because playing keyboards today really was about praising the name of God, and nothing else.

It seems, all too often, that the term worship is often thought to be synonymous with simply making music at church. And while I had the opportunity to make music today by playing the keyboards at church, worship isn’t about performance or music … it’s about the condition of the heart. Worship is about opening the path for unworthy humans to communicate with a holy God. (On a side note, I’m so thankful for the leaders at Bethel church for the care they take to make sure that worship is properly experienced.)

It was so much fun reflecting on the worship experience with my kids. It was a true joy to remind them that while I was totally enjoying the experience … it was really about something much bigger … it was about having the opportunity to serve God through the use of my talents.

Role Reversal (a.k.a “This Lady Used to Change My Diapers”)

Wow, what an intense ride these last several months have been. Mom has almost completed the transition of moving from Minot to Fargo. It’s shocking to look back and realize that the person I counted on to change my diapers forty-some years ago now looks to me to keep from getting swept up by the world around her.

I’ve wanted Mom (and Dad, before he passed away) to move to Fargo for quite a while now, but the timing never seemed to be quite right, Dad’s Alzheimer’s care was a complication, and perhaps more pointedly I had allowed myself to be too passive in this situation. The seeds for the thoughts of becoming more active in Mom’s transition to Fargo were planted a few years ago, in one of the best (and hardest-hitting) sermons I have ever heard: The Sanctity of Life (Dr. Matthew R. St. John, Bethel Evangelical Free Church). Please, if you have a few moments … take some focused time to listen to that message. It’s worth your time.

Last summer it became very evident to me that I needed to become more active in convincing Mom to move to Fargo. Mom is still able to live independently and her mind is still clear, but there are signs that she is not always able to make the best decisions any longer. And I certainly couldn’t allow her to spend another winter alone in Minot. So it all came down to this: I laid out a 12-point plan for Mom to follow, and told her this time I wouldn’t take “No” for an answer. I respectfully told her that I was going to be right this time, and that she needed to allow me to help her move to Fargo. And so began the process of moving Mom to Fargo, to be close to us.

There have been many landmark moments over the last three months.

The Condo in Fargo

I helped Mom find and purchase a condo that is just blocks away from work and church, and not too far away from home. It’s a great place for residents age 55 and older, and the residents there are so friendly. It’s close to work (I bring my lunch to the condo to eat with her almost every day), church, and a grocery store. She’s starting to participate in the condo’s weekly coffee times and monthly potlucks. Even though any social activity usually leads to her saying, “I miss Irvin so much…” she’s actually willing (with a well-placed jab in the ribs) to participate in the condo’s social activities. That’s big progress.

Preparing the House in Minot

This was a scary project for me. There was so much stuff that needed to be dealt with. And how am I going to move her Mom’s antique organ out of the basement? It was this part of the project that had me most often saying, “I wish I wasn’t an only child!” Thankfully I had the help of my wife, in-laws, and some cousins I hadn’t seen in way too long to get me through the projects: deciding what should go to Fargo, packing up boxes, moving boxes, and preparing for the auction in Minot. As an only child that was born to older parents, I really never had the opportunity to get close to any of my cousins. But I’m so thankful for Dennis and Verdeen, and Freddie and Rose and their willingness to help get things in order with the house. I thoroughly enjoyed getting reacquainted with these cousins again!

Selling the House in Minot

Mom had moved into the condo with enough of her stuff to feel comfortable there, and the house in Minot was starting to get to the point where it could be put on the market. With people looking for housing due to the Minot flood and the oil rush in western North Dakota I didn’t think it would be too much of an effort to get the house sold. And wow, did the right offer get presented to Mom! She was the recipient of a full-price offer (made within three days of going on the market), the buyers didn’t even blink at anything that showed up on the home inspection, and the buyers want to move quickly. We just sent the last bit of paperwork to Minot, the sale could be completed in the next few weeks, by the end of this year!

The Auction

I didn’t know how this would go. Would this be too emotional for Mom to experience? She had one emotional moment during the auction, but was able to “recover” quickly. When we reached the end of the afternoon it felt as though she had closure. The auction ended, and we left Minot for the last time. She had been living in Fargo for several weeks by the time we had the auction, but as long as she had stuff in Minot, she never really “left” Minot. Both Judy and I commented that after the auction was done and she returned to Fargo, she seemed more pleasant to be around, and at peace with the move.

For me personally the auction turned out to be a much bigger project than I had anticipated. We got the house cleaned up and everything up to the auction site with only about an hour to spare. And while I didn’t move anything particularly heavy, I did move a lot of stuff. I mean a lot! I honestly don’t remember the last time my knees felt so rubbery for so long. I really need to exercise more!

Life in Fargo

And now, after all the hard work, Mom is finally able to start experiencing all the things we had hoped for her. She goes to church with us. She comes over after church for dinner, and stays for supper. She’s experiencing her grandkids. She’s meeting neighbors at the condo. She can come over to our house whenever she wants. I can check on her just about every day during lunch. She’s going to our kids’ school concerts and programs. She’s living again!

So there you have it … the quick version of the story that’s consumed my life for the last few months. Maybe now I can get back to a more frequent blog posting routine. Maybe I can start reading books again. Maybe I can play piano some more. Maybe I’ll get caught up at work. Maybe I’ll just relax for a bit! Looking back, and almost certainly looking forward, I can see God’s fingerprints over everything that’s happened with this move. I’m so glad it’s done (pending the completion of the sale of the house in Minot), and while it’s been a huge effort, I’m glad that I am in a position to help the lady that used to change my diapers.

An Amazing Weekend of Memories

Wow, what an amazing weekend. Last week I learned that Mom was having water troubles in her basement in Minot, and I started to think it was going to be an important time for me to go and help her. Andrew and I went to visit Grandma Frieda with a few goals in mind. The first goal was to make sure she was doing OK with her basement (she was, thankfully!) The second goal was to set the stage for her to move to Fargo, sooner rather than later. And now she finally is ready to make the move!!! Part of “the plan” was to start going through some of her stuff to help her be willing to part with some things that have no sentimental value. Much to my surprise, she took kindly to that plan.

But what I didn’t expect was the degree to which I was overwhelmed by all the nostalgia I would uncover. I really wasn’t prepared for that; it was such a pleasant surprise. A large part of me felt guilty for not having expressed a bigger interest in all the family history before. But I can’t rewind time, so I’ll be thankful for what I can now more fully appreciate. So … for all you young whippersnappers out there, start paying attention to your family heritage so you don’t regret it later!

Here is just a very small sampling of some of the wonderful discoveries that occurred last weekend. First, this picture was my absolute favorite discovery. It’s a photo of Dad’s parents’ wedding day, they’re the third and fourth in from the left. This photo was from 100 years ago, in 1911. Even though there aren’t many smiles in this photo (as I believe as customary for photos in this era) it looks like such a wonderfully happy photo!

John Hultin - Anna Dahl Wedding Day

Next up is a photo from Dad’s schooling at the Chicago Evangelistic Institute (later renamed Vennard college, which closed in 2008). I don’t know any of the details of this photo. I believe Dad can be found by looking at the right-most person in the front row, and then going straight up two more people. I can’t help but wonder how many lives have been touched as a result of the people trained at this institution.

Chicago Evangelistic Institute

Here’s a photo of the from Mom grew up on near Turtle Lake, ND. It just looks like a classic “let’s settle down and build America!” photo.

Bauer Farm

And here’s a photo of Mom’s family (Mom is in the back row, second from the right)

Bauer Family

There were lots of books too, including this German Bible that belonged to Mom’s parents. The outside needs some care, but the inside is still in decent shape, considering its age.

Bauer Bible

Another “book” I was so happy to take possession of is Dad’s collection of sermons. I can’t wait to pore over all the sermons he produced, to learn more about his legacy. That will, no doubt, be the subject of future blog posts…

And finally, the weekend ended with us taking a trip to Dad’s grave, to add some grass seed and say a prayer with Mom. This was the first time I’ve seen Dad’s grave with his grave marker in place. The medallion on the upper-left corner of the grave marker commemorates his service to the United Methodist Church.

Irvin Linton Hultin: 1919-2010

I have to say I was so proud of Andrew. He decided he needed to come with to help Grandma, and there was no changing his mind. He was such a good traveler, and he thoroughly enjoyed soaking in the history too … mostly by playing with my childhood toys. It’s nice to see the Erector set get some use again! Even though he didn’t move many boxes or pack mementos, he really did “help” Grandma in more ways than he’ll ever know. I really believe Andrew “helped” Grandma more clearly understand the reason she should come to Fargo.

Wow, what an amazing weekend of memories!

Fargo’s Memorial Day Storm

Wow, that was quite a storm! Straightline winds estimated to be over 70 miles per hour ripped through Fargo on the evening of Memorial Day, May 30, 2011. Here’s how it looks from my point of view:

A soffit panel on the underside of our porch was pulled away. The swingset in this view was probably one of the first things to go, so that’s hardly worth mentioning.

Here’s another view of the damaged soffit:

Our camper was lifted off the ground. At least that’s the only explanation I have for this photo of the front stabilizer jack.

I suspect the front of the camper end briefly lifted enough for the top board to blow backwards a bit, and then when the camper came down again it was “reset” in this new position.

Some shingles were loosened and repositioned.

A closer on our front storm door was bent. (I suspect this happened as we rushed to get inside and I was trying to hold the door steady for everyone else to get in without getting slapped by the door being blown into their face.)

And then my favorite … the attic access panel didn’t look quite right. It looks normal in the picture below, but when I was wrestling with the door the pressure difference must have inflated the house to the point where it “popped” the access door open. I found it resting all kittywhumpus in the access frame. I suspect that’s due in part to the super-tight nature of an ICF house.

We lost power for about three hours, and that was the worst of it.

Beyond the obvious damage I have two random comments about the storm. One of the most amazing parts to me is that while the wind was ripping shingles and lifting campers, it left other things virtually untouched. Take a look again at the first photo in this post; there’s a potted plant on a glass-topped table in the bottom-left corner. I don’t think it even moved an inch. How’d that happen? The other random comment is about the trees. I think it’s amazing and God-designed that while a powerful wind can rip off roofs and knock down trees, the individual leaves just keep on hanging on, going about their business of being a leaf.

The End of a Generation

Earlier today I learned of the passing of my aunt Ann Hultin. My reactions to death have really become moreintrospective since my father’s passing earlier this year (see A Day to Remember Reverend Irvin Hultin and Memories of Dad). Ann’s passing is particularly meaningful to me because her passing marks the end of that particular generation of the Hultin family. There has no doubt been a lot of history created since the early 1900′s which marked the starting point for Dad’s generation. I wish I had the opportunity to know and enjoy more of the history Dad’s generation created … but it’s all memories now, at least on this side of eternity. For now I’m stuck waiting until I get to their side of eternity—then the stories will really begin!

I Saw America Today

Normally I take nothing more than a quick glance (if even a glance at all!) at the “casual friends” e-mails. You know the kind: funny pictures, jokes, pass this on to 30 of your friends … all those emails. But the email I received today really caught my attention. In fact, it brought tears to my eyes. I did a quick search to find a posting from the original author, but didn’t find it … so I’m republishing the e-mail I received from Ed Pierce. (Thanks Ed!)

I saw America today.

I was among more that 200 people gathered on the tarmac at the Meridian Air Navel Station to welcome Sgt. Eric C. Newman, 30, of Waynesboro , Miss. home from Afghanistan.

He did not exit to cheers and hugs but was greeted by respectful silence. Military men and women, bikers, policemen, firemen, all in formation riveted their attention as Sgt. Newman disembarked from the plane carrying him.

He exited in a flag draped coffin, killed in action in Afghanistan .

The family stood near the hearse and as Sgt. Newman’s casket approached he was greeted by his new wife and his mother as they draped their arms around the casket where their beloved husband and son lay. There would be no married life for the newly married couple and another mother had given her son in the name of freedom.

I saw America today.

The procession formed with a police escort in front leading the hearse carrying Sgt. Newman which was followed by his family, more than 100 bikers, including the Patriot Guard Riders, scores of police officers, firemen, and friends. I rode near the front and I never could see the end of the procession as we rolled over the hills from Meridian to Waynesboro .

I saw America today.

On the 60 mile journey truckers, the big rigs, pulled to the side of the road, exited their trucks and put hand over heart in honor of Sgt. Newman and the American flag. Down the road from one big shiny rig was a humble logging truck, driver standing on the ground, hand over heart.

For sixty miles a mixture of people stood by the side of the road, flag in hand as we rolled past. At every junction where a side road entered there were people. At the overpasses there was always a fire truck displaying a large American flag. Every fire department along the way had their fire truck standing by to honor this young American who gave his life for us.

There was a young Boy Scout, in uniform, proudly saluting Sgt. Newman and the American flags that passed him.

A man in bib overalls stood by a ragged old pickup truck giving honor. Just down the road was a man dressed in suit and tie by his expensive SUV.

Something in the bright blue sky above caught my eye. It was two jet fighter planes flying over the procession, the thoughtful action of fellow soldiers.

I could see a woman kneeling, holding something out in her hands. At first I thought it must be a camera but as I passed I could clearly see it was a folded American flag. Just like the one that was given to my mother when my father died. Yes, it was her way of saying, “I lost a loved one as well.”

I saw America today.

As we left the main road and entered Waynesboro two fire trucks were parked in such a way as to form an arch with a giant American flag suspended between the two.

The streets were lined solid with people. No cars were moving. I observed someone in a wheel chair on the side of the road. When we drew closer I saw several in wheel chairs, some on crutches. They were old, and fragile. They were residents of a nursing home. On down the road there was another group from yet another nursing home, all waving tiny American flags.

As we wound our way through town hundreds of people lined the sides of the streets. We passed an elementary school. The children lined the fence three deep, most with flags, some with red, white, and blue balloons which were later released.

Next we passed the high school. Again the students respectfully lined the streets adjacent to the school. All were standing respectfully in honor of Sgt. Newman.

And did I mention the yellow ribbons? They were on trees, mailboxes, fences, and anywhere people could place them.

I saw America today.

When we had finished the escort all the bikers were asked to meet at the First Baptist Church of Waynesboro. There they gathered us up and escorted us to the Western Sizzlen ’ where the people of the town treated us to lunch for doing something of which we were proud to be a part.

Today, I saw America and I’m proud to be an American. God bless America .

Rod Smith, Patriot Guard Rider
October 21, 2010, Laurel , Mississippi

These videos makes it even more real:

To Sgt. Newman and all others past and present that have fought for our country … Thank You for your service. I sincerely hope the citizens of our country are worthy of the sacrifice you’ve offered which allows us to enjoy this great nation.