“Our reality is right here, being real people, doing real things. We can’t be bought, sold, or traded like a commodity. We like to be free, not slaves to the system. There’s nothing like being out on the road, where we can spend days riding just to be someplace we haven’t been or seen before.”
Little Jimmie picked up his patch from the back of the lawn chair he was sitting on. Treating the vest as if it were a religious icon, he showed the fire-breathing wolf on the back to Jake.
“This may look like a rag to the walking dead out there, but to us, it’s our flag, the reason we live. It represents our church, our home, and it is the glue that holds us all together. We’re Skuldmen, we’re one percenters, outlaws, and we still don’t give the jerk-offs who don’t pull their own weight the time of day. We’re Brothers and Sisters for each other, we’re each other’s family. By choice, not by birth and that’s the difference. Some folks have brothers and sisters ‘cause that’s what was given to them. We’re here, for each other, because we chose to be. There’s a difference.”
From Draft #3 of the manuscript:
Chapter 17 Page 155 : One Light Coming: A Biker’s Story (Book 3 in a series).
Published by Blockhead City Press © 2011
Who am I?
There are many mantels I wear.
Like most of us, we often wear different hats:
Son, Brother, Father, Important Friend, Spouse, Employer, Employee, Leader, Follower….like many of us, the list goes on.
In the past week or so, I have been reminded all too well of these titles that could be used to describe me. I have had to juggle many of these roles as events that have occurred in each of these realms have forced me to make decisions about which hat is more required than another at any given time in the day, week or month.
And when this choice is made, when that hat is put on, to be the best person I can be in that role at that time, the other roles that are important parts of my life end up getting the short end of the stick.
And some people get let down.
It’s impossible to be in three places at one time.
That’s a fact; a reality.
But choices are made. For better or worse.
Years ago, my son gave me a new patch for my riding vest.
It simply said: Role Model.
I put in on my chest, proudly, in the same place where others would display: “President”, or “Sergeant-At-Arms”. And I wear it, not only because he gave it to me. I wear it because for years I told him not to do what I have done. My path is not his path. He needed to choose his own way, not follow mine.
“I am not a role model” was the phrase repeated over and over in the kitchen, sitting on the stoop, walking to the mailbox…..over and over.
So, when He gave me the patch and he said: “Yes Dad, you are…in your own way” , I was touched.
I wear this patch with pride.
And so, these past week or so, I made choices that brought tears to those who are the important people in my life, all for different reasons; some because I was ‘there’ , and some because I wasn’t, some because I reminded them of their role of responsibility, some because I reminded them of this mantel of Role Model.
I hope that when I lay on the pavement, lying up at the sky above, about to take my last breath in this world, I can honestly say that my actions gave honor to the words: Role Model; as a Son, Father, Brother, Friend, of being someone who was Important to others in this world.
Who are You?