Let's All Go to This! The Annual Tallapoosa Possum Drop

Every year most people tend to do the same thing for New Year's Eve: Get together with a bunch of friends, drink a little too much, or in some cases, a lot too much and end up making out with someone you would have never gone near sober, but being three sheets to the wind and wearing a really nice pair of beer goggles suddenly makes that Steve Buscemi troll look like Colin Farrell.

*Side Note: What is "three sheets to the wind"? Where does that expression even come from? Are we talking three sheets of paper or are we talking about bed sheets? Why three? Can you be two sheets to the wind? And what does the wind have to do with it?

Amount of sheets aside, this year I am considering doing something different. Very different. I give you the Annual Tallapoosa Possum Drop. Yes, Possum Drop.

Before I get into the possum drop, first I must tell you a little bit about Tallapoosa. The official city website boasts: "Travel to Tallapoosa for True Tales, Tasty Treats and Toe Tapping Tunes." Tallapoosa, GA is a small Southern town in an unspoiled rural setting nestled in the foothills of the N.W. GA Mountains.

Which of course is translation for Hillbilly Paradise. Don't miss main attractions include The RV Park and Bud Jones Taxidermy and Wildlife Museum. So you can imagine the excitement that the Annual Possum Drop generates around the town.

To fully understand the possum drop you must first be familiar with New Year's Rockin' Eve where an array of drunk New Yorkers and other people that have completely lost their minds, gather in the freezing cold huddling shoulder to shoulder in Times Square with no chance of escape to drink, watch the hottest music acts, eat traditional delicacies, be groped by fellow onlookers and countdown as a huge, beautiful, electronically illuminated Waterford Crystal ball moves down a poll for everyone to see.

The Tallapoosa Possum Drop is very similar to this except it usually isn't cold, the music includes Elvis impersonators and local bands with the main headliner being Rhubarb Jones, a former radio personality. Mouth watering treats include Subway and Chick-Fil-A and although it doesn't say so on the website, I am certain there is some type of bar-b-que roadkill available.

There is a Possum King and Queen. A title currently being held by Midge Baxley and Ken Barkley. And, while I have no idea how one is considered worthy enough to become possum King and Queen, I can only assume it has something to do with one person finding the possum and the other one stuffing it.

You are probably thinking that with such draws as Rhubarb (not the pie) and the crowning of the annual King and Queen, how could anything possibly top that? I would now like to introduce you to Spencer.

Spencer is a stuffed, taxidermy possum that died of natural causes (the towns' people want to make sure that is known). On New Year's Eve, Spencer is encased in a large, twig like ball covered with Christmas lights. A pole is then shoved up his ass and he is hoisted high atop Tallapoosa's oldest building. OK, maybe the pole isn't exactly shoved up his ass, but the rest is true. One minute before midnight Spencer is slowly lowered down the pole as the residents begin the countdown which I believe goes something like this: Ten, eight, nine, semin, six, fi, four...

Breakout the moonshine!

In case you are worried that you won't be able to purchase any souvenir special enough to mark this grand event, you can have your picture taken with Spencer, himself.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to drive along the side of the road and look for a new Spencer if I want to stand a chance of being crowned next year's Possum Queen.

http://www.thepossumdrop.com/

RIP Common Sense

Common sense is making me crazy.

Why? Because I have it. Every day that goes by I become more aware of the shortage of common sense in the world. Everyone has heard the age old adage: The problem with common sense is it isn't common enough -Unknown (Maybe it was even me that said it.)

I know we all have lapses in common sense every now and then. Take for example, my niece. She is a beautiful, intelligent girl that has not yet developed any common sense. Not too long ago, a friend was giving her directions to his house. He told her to "turn left at the fork in the road" to which she very innocently and with all seriousness replied, "The fork? But what if someone moves it?"

To be fair, she was fifteen at the time, so her lapse is understandable and even forgivable. What kills me is the adults that have none, leaving you to wonder how they have gotten this far in life without ever being hit by a car because they didn't know to look both ways.

Several years ago, I owned a pizzeria in a little town that hadn't been discovered yet. It's main claim to fame was that the "famous" Ma Barker shootout took place there and was re-enacted yearly. This place would still need a horse before you could consider it a one horse town. Needless to say, when it came to hiring it was slim pickings, so when a sweet, bubbly girl named Suzy* came in, I thought she would be perfect to answer the phones. *(Note, names have been changed to protect the stupid).

One day, Suzy strolled in late looking quite perplexed. When asked what was wrong, she replied, "My car broke down again." Shortly after, her father came in to visit and noticed her somber mood. The conversation that followed went like this:

Dad: "Hi sweetie. What's wrong?"
Suzy: "Oh, my car broke down again."
Dad: "It did?"
Suzy: "Yeah."
Dad: "Did it break down just like last time?"
Suzy: "Yeah."
Dad (with a soft sweetness and a great deal of patience): "Why don't you try putting some gas in it?"

And yes, that is what was wrong with the car. I would like to point out the most important words in the above conversation: "...like last time." Suzy's lack of common sense provided much entertainment for us. There was the time that she mopped herself into a corner and sat there until the floor dried. Then there was the time that she was grossed out by cleaning the windows because of the spiders that were on there. When we told her the spiders were all dead, her reply was, "I know. I wish they were alive so that they could run away from me."

Then there was Madison, who was given the simple job of  filling up the newly purchased salt and pepper shakers, but decided when she couldn't unscrew them and get them open, the best thing to do was to just throw them away.

Good times. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up.

However, as intellectually challenged the staff at the pizzeria may have been, no place demonstrates the absence of common sense more than good ol' Wal-Mart.

Let's start with the parking lot. If someone is kind enough to let you walk in front of their car without running you over and making you roadkill, the decent thing to do would be to give them a thank you wave and hurry across the road. The wonderful Wal-Mart clientele seems to disagree with me. In fact, not only will they walk in front of you while your car is moving, but, if you stop to let them cross, they will mosey as slow as possible, even stopping to light up a cigarette or take a phone call.

Next, we have the people that have completed their shopping, are leaving and know you are waiting for a parking space. These idiots are particularly frustrating during the holiday season when drivers speed around corners like Indy racers and would run over their own mother in an effort to beat someone else to a coveted spot.They see you, sitting in your car with your turn signal on patiently waiting as they load their bags. Then they have to buckle their children into the car seat and of course, get them a juice box and a toy to entertain them. Finally, they get into the car, pull out their checkbook, write a few things down, put it away, then decide to fool with the radio. Once a station is agreed upon, the driver will check hair, make-up and whatever else, completely oblivious to you and the 12 cars that are waiting in line behind your vehicle and getting pissed off because you haven't just given up on the parking spot and continued on your way.

Once you have parked and managed to actually get through the parking lot without being run over by some driver that is talking or texting on the cell phone, you walk into the store where you are met by a greeter. OK, it stands to reason that if you are hired at a place to be a greeter, you should, and maybe I'm going out on a limb here, greet people as they come in the door. Just a thought. However, I don't believe I have ever entered a Wal-Mart where the greeter actually does this. As a matter of fact, it is almost as if they train them not to greet you. They look at you as though you have just interrupted a vitally important conversation or thought process that had them on the brink of figuring out cold fusion, but, thanks to you and your inconvenient timing, have now caused them to forget their epiphany.

Unfortunately, the greeter is just the beast that guards the gate. Your next obstacles are the wonderful Wal-Mart shoppers. We have all seen the emails of the fashionably challenged individuals with their clothes five sizes too small. *Note to these people - If you are over 25, you are no longer considered a junior! No one thinks it is cute when you wear booty shorts stretched to capacity that claim you are "Hot Stuff." You're not and you may be sued for false advertising. Still, I digress.

There are no words...

Yes, the fashionably challenged ranging from the mullet having, Confederate Flag t-shirt wearing rednecks, fur coat, hat adorned pimps with more gold in their teeth than Mr. T wore on his whole body, men dressed as women (and ugly women at that!) and kids dressed in all black with holes in every visible orfice sporting the trademark skull or tribal tattoo that they got to show their originality...just like everyone else, are an obvious example of people that have no common sense, or mirrors apparently. You must try to avert your eyes from these spectacles and continue towards your goal of grabbing the things you need and making it out of there alive.


But your tests are not over yet. You then encounter the ones that really burn my butt -the people with the carts that stop in the middle of the isle so that no one else can pass.You say, "Excuse me," once in a normal tone, then if they do not move, you say it again, louder and with a bit more irritation in case they are hearing impaired or just plain stupid. People with some common sense will generally be startled back into reality, apologize and move their cart. This is acceptable and can be and shrugged off. After all, sometimes we have so much going on we get a little self involved and don't realize we are being idiots.

Then there are the assholes. You know the people I am talking about. The ones that usually have a kid or two running up and down the isle screaming or climbing on shelves while they ignore them and talk on the phone, tossing you a dirty look like you have just asked them if you could have sex with their boyfriend. No common courtesy or sense whatsoever.

Now, as a person that does have common sense, I feel it is important to tell you that it is your right...no it is your obligation to show them how rude they are being. I recommend doing this by effectively ramming your cart as hard as possible into their's causing it to go catapulting down the isle and maybe even knock one of the unruley little brats off of a shelf in the process. To me, this is a perfectly acceptable and dare I say, rational, thing to do.

As you go merrily on my way, you realize that at some point, when you were in the isle, someone had stolen the "Little Wendy Wets A lot" doll out of your basket and put it in their's because to them, that was a perfectly rational thing to do. You of course, steal it back, then put some of the essential items like milk or diapers that were in their basket on the shelves and haul ass out of there. Later, they will see you in the store, notice the doll in your cart and give you a dirty look because you stole it back from them.

Finally, you make it to the checkout where you stand behind twenty people because although everyone and their uncle are shopping this time of year, their are only two lanes open. You wait patiently as the woman currently being checked out sends her child to run and get the marshmallows she forgot to get bringing the checkout process to an abrupt hault. Junior comes back and the cashier realizes there is no price on the marshmallows and calls for a price check... three times. Then after someone with the lightening speed of a turtle brings up another bag of marshmallows with a price on it, you watch the shopper, completely oblivious to the line of frustrated people behind her, ask that the items be rang up in two separate transactions, then bitches because one of the items that should have been rung up on this bill was actually rang up on the other one. You would get out of line and choose a different lane, but you are sandwiched between ten other people and have already placed your items on the conveyor belt.

The cashier calls a manager and they begin to go through each line on the bill trying to figure out how to remove the item from the transaction. After fifteen minutes of trying and failing, they decide to open a new lane and ask everyone to move to that one, instead of just voiding the transaction and taking the pain in the ass shopper up to customer service. ( I have actually been in line when this happened).

At last, you get through the checkout, pay your bill and get the hell out of there. You race to your car and in an effort to make sure that you are more conscientous than the person that left you sitting, waiting for the space, load up your bags as quickly as possible, get in your car and peel out of the parking lot. As you drive home trying to shake off the ordeal you just went through, you realize that in your haste you forgot to pick-up the one item you went to the store for: Toilet paper!

I'm no expert, but something isn't right here...

Common sense says next time, make a list!

The Unknown Peer Pressure of Birds

In the steel trap that is my mind (Yeah right!), I often find fleeting thoughts rattling around in there. Okay, honestly, most of them aren't fleeting. In fact, sometimes, my mind goes off on a tangent and I have to be jarred back to reality by something like an angry horn and some profanities from the driver behind me as I sit still at a green light.

The bad news is, in an effort to reassure myself that I am not completely off my rocker, I often share these thoughts with my Facebook friends. For example, do people that shop at Walmart have mirrors? What the hell does martinizing mean? Does anyone really care where Waldo is? If my dogs are willing to eat cat poop and lick their genitals, why won't they eat my meatloaf?

Today's random thought came to me this morning while driving. A flock of birds were congregated on a telephone wire as they often do when one decided to fly at my car at warp speed narrowly missing my front tire. This made me come up with a theory. Do birds sit up on the wire & in their little birdie language chirp, "Okay, I am going to fly as fast as I can at a downward angle, just missing the grill of that car and land on that branch."

The the other bird, not wanting to be outdone and hoping to look tough in front of his little bird friends is like, "Oh Yeah? Well, I am not only going to fly close to the car, I am going to fly under the car between the front and back tires while it is moving, then circle back and poop on the newly washed SUV behind it."

If he succeeds, he is revered as a hero and a legend among birds. If he fails, he is accused of giving into peer pressure and becomes a cautionary tale of roadkill that some lucky cat or vulture will stumble upon (Cannibals!)

I have a similar view for squirrels. Anyone else agree w/this theory?

All I DON'T Want for Christmas Is...

As Black Friday (also my birthday) approaches I would like to take a moment to implore my friends and family: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE do not buy me a Forever Lazy onesie by Snuggie.

A few years ago, the Snuggie launched an infomercial assault on the unsuspecting public. Soon everyone ditched their comfy but unwearable blankets and were clamouring for these super soft, cuddly, backwards robes. After all, what sane person would want to wear an old-fashioned forward robe when you could easily slip into a backward one?

Snuggies started showing up under Christmas trees everywhere. Don't know what to buy someone for Christmas or their birthday? Give them a Snuggie. Who wouldn't love a Snuggie? Even the name makes you feel all warn and cozy. Plus, to ensnare us even further into the Snuggie web, they enticed us with cool new colors, animal prints and of course, the creme de le creme of Snuggies, college sports team Snuggies.

Yes, the creators rode the Snuggie wave all the way to the bank.

But now what? If everyone already has a Snuggie, how will they sell more? Will the Snuggie suffer the same fate as Cabbage Patch Kids, the Hula Hoop, Teddy Ruxpin and other one hit retail wonders?

Fear not my fellow consumers. The Snuggie creators are way to innovative to let this trend that took us by storm just fade away. I give to you: The Forever Lazy.

Remember feety Pajamas? The ones that your mom use to dress you up in as a kid, then send you to bed to roast and sweat buckets for the entire night. They had rubber non-slip pads on the bottom that if you rubbed your feet really fast on the carpet, you could walk up to an unsuspecting friend or sibling and shock the hell out of them. Well, the Forever Lazy allows you to relive those days without the fun of the unsuspecting shock. They are feetless, fleece pajamas...I'm sorry, outfits...that keep you toasty. And unlike the Snuggie, they're totally wearable and there is one for every occasion. Work Blue for those days at the office. Black for cocktails with friends. Hanky Pinky Fuscia when you are feeling romantic. And because they come complete with a hoodie, you and your friends can even wear them to the big game. Sounds to good to be true, right? Wait there is more! As a bonus, if you buy one now, the good old Snuggie Corporation will even throw in an extra Snuggie and matching footie socks so that you won't even have to worry about shoes!

I know what you're thinking. Sure they're stylish, but what if I have to go to the bathroom? No worries my friend. The Forever Lazy comes with a restroom friendly hatch. You can simply undo the hatch, drop off some kids at the pool, then zip up without ever leaving your comfy fleece jumper.

So, why wouldn't I want the latest craze sweeping the nation? Two reasons. First, I was never fond of Teletubbies, which, as far as I am concerned, is the look you are going for when sporting this ensemble. Pick your color, zip it up and pull up the hood and pretend you are Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa or Po. I would like to say in an effort to not lose all credibility that I did not know those names, I had to look them up.

Second, I haven't completely given up on myself as a human being. The Forever Lazy, or as I like to refer to it, The Hopeless Slackass is for those people that have just said, "F*%k it! I give up on clothes, dating, romance, work and dammit, I'm going to be comfortable."

So please, with my birthday and Christmas coming up, if you really love me, give me a gift certificate, a card or even a hug, but save the Forever Lazy for all of the slothful George Costanzas, the insanely thin Lindsey Lohans and Olsen twins and the fashionably challenged Courtney Loves and Bjorks of the world. Although I must admit a swan dress is better than a Teletubbies outfit.

I'm going to go cuddle under my Snuggie now.

Interested in a Forever Lazy or just want to see this fashion marvel for yourself? Well, of course I wouldn't leave you hanging: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S2p7AiNX9g . Get your's today! Just don't buy one for me. Honest, I'm good;)

Hate Group Targets Military Funerals



 I have to tell you, it takes a lot to surprise me. With television shows like CSI, Dexter, Family Guy, The Jersey Shore and 1000 Ways to Die, coupled with video games where you can rob and beat up hookers or blow off some guy’s head, not to mention any of the wacky, borderline offensive ensembles you can see at Wal-Mart on a daily basis, I thought I’d pretty much seen it all. Now, mix in the daily news stories and the large amount of verbal vomit that spews from the mouths of politicians and viola! You have a desensitized, shock proof society and I must admit I was no exception. Or at least that is what I thought.




A man and woman stand with a larger flag  

 Sunday, I attended my first military funeral. Lance Corporal Scott Daniel Harper was killed in action in Afghanistan in the beginning of October. I do not know this man. Nor have I ever met any member of his family. Still this Marine made the ultimate sacrifice and died fighting for my [our] freedom. As I drove toward the church uncertain where it was located and a little afraid I would feel awkward being at the funeral of someone I didn’t know, I saw a lone man standing on the side of the overpass waving a small flag. I smiled to myself, touched by his simple, yet respectful gesture unaware of what I would come across a little further down the road.







A community comes together to grieve and show support.

The scene looked like something from a movie. The street was lined with at least 500 people of all ages holding flags of various sizes and thank you signs. Bikers, at least 75 of them, along with military men in full uniform and people dressed like angels with huge wings formed lines around the perimeter of the church grounds that stretched right up to the church door. Most of them had never met the soldier or his family either. Yet, this Georgia community came together to mourn the loss of a 21 year old hero and pay their respects to his family.



A young girl hold a flag and a sign of thanks, not protest.

Unfortunately, that was not the only motivation for why they were there as I discovered when I spoke with some of the locals as we waited for the family and Lance Corporal’s body to arrive from the funeral home. Nor was it my only reason. Many of us came because we had heard that a notorious hate church was going to protest the funeral. I will not name this group because they live for publicity. I will tell you that they are known for protesting the funerals of public figures, the most recent being Steve Jobs, as well as military funerals and the funerals of openly gay individuals. Earlier in the week, they could be seen outside Woodruff Park protesting Occupy Atlanta which has been holding a peaceful assembly against the unfair division of wealth in this country. Yes, the protesters were protesting the protesters.

Why does this church protest such things as funerals, peaceful protests, military events and too many other things to name? Well to answer that we must look deeper into this church, its leader, its congregation and its beliefs. The church was founded by a man that describes himself as a “Primitive Baptist,” although mainstream Baptists openly reject his teachings. Personally, I have another word for this preacher but I digress. He has a following of approximately 70 people, that surprise, surprise, are mostly made up of his children and grandchildren. They are anti-gay, anti-Semite, anti-military, anti-Catholic, anti-Lutheran, anti-Protestant and anti–Amish. I could go on, but I don’t think there is enough room on the internet for me to list everything they are against. However, just in case you are feeling left out, here are a few more groups he opposes, one of which I am sure will apply to you: Canadians, Swedes, the British, Chinese, the Irish and Americans that “tolerate” homosexuality. He also condemns college students, claiming they engage in petting and pursuing lusts of the flesh(I would like to point out that this preacher has 13 children, so apparently he was lusting after some flesh himself). He also says that menstruation is a curse for not being pure and if a female remained pure she would never menstruate. Okay, I haven’t been "pure" for many years now, but even when I was, I menstruated.

This group claims it protests at least 6 times a day at different locations. The members and their children can be seen holding signs with such grotesque slogans as “God Hates Fags,” “Thank God for Dead Soldiers,” “Thank God for 9/11,” “Rabbis Rape Kids” and “Thank God for Breast Cancer.” They refer to the head of the Catholic Church as the “Pervert Pope,” Barack Obama as the “Antichrist” and view almost any other religion as Satanic or claim their leaders are “sending their members to Hell.”

Still not offended? How about this? After the Arizona shooting of Gabrielle Gifford and several others, the group planned to picket the funerals of the six that were killed. They also posted “THANK GOD FOR THE SHOOTER—6 DEAD!” on their website whose address itself contains a hate slogan.

So how does a man that was a Civil Rights activist, once receiving an award from the NAACP for his work with black clients become a hate mongering preacher? Well, I have a couple theories on that, not all of which are mine. The first comes from his estranged son that says the preacher regularly used racial slurs outside the earshot of his clients and was simply representing them for one reason alone: Money. This same son also claims his father abused him, his siblings and his mother with his fists or the handle of a mattock. I mean clearly that must have been God’s will, right? Guess I missed the line in the Ten Commandments that read: Thou shall beat thy family.

My next theory is that, well, he is a big old homosexual and is so afraid of his feelings, urges and the possible acts he has engaged in that he condemns others for theirs, afraid someone will discover his true nature. After all, aren’t the ones that make the biggest stink usually the ones with something to hide? Most of the venom he spews is against anyone that is gay, supports homosexuality or doesn’t openly oppose it. His reason for protesting the military is because they allow homosexuals to be in the service. His argument against many churches is due to their “tolerance” of gays.

Then there is the fact that he is a fame whore. It cannot be overlooked that he purposely takes the most ridiculous, controversial view on everything, hiding behind his interpretation of the Bible. Isn’t it funny how all of his protests seem to be at the places that can gain him the most publicity? Steve Job’s funeral, Memorial Day at Arlington National Cemetery, the funeral of a boy that was beaten to death by his peers because he was a homosexual and the Arizona shootings all gained national media attention. Boy, this man spends so much time protesting and spreading hate that I can’t help but wonder when he has time to preach at his church.

Whether this soap box bigot is gay, mental, drug addicted or just wasn’t hugged enough as a child, or maybe he was hugged too much, I don’t care. Hate is hate. But unfortunately, this preacher has the right to free speech however moronic that speech may be.

This brings me back to the soldier’s funeral. As we waited for Lance Corporal Harper to arrive, we all seemed to hold our breath every time a bus or large van went by fearing they would be carrying the protestors. Laws have been enacted in most states saying protestors must stay at least so many feet from a funeral (The distance varies from state to state). Still, the preacher had said that his people would be there. A part of me almost wanted them there so that I could go up to them and say something like “I am happy that your life is so perfect that you feel you have the right to judge others” or “God spreads love not hate. You are not doing God’s work. You are doing the Devil’s.” I would also have liked the opportunity to point out to them that the only reason they had free speech and were able to protest was because this man and many more like him fought for and protected that freedom. And although I don’t encourage violence, I kind of relished the idea of this group showing up to a place that was surrounded by Marines and bikers. Still, I didn’t want that kind of display for the sake of the fallen soldier’s family. After all, hadn’t they been through enough?

Nervously, I tried to search for protest signs through the windows of a blue bus that had slowed down and then went on its way. As I returned my gaze to the church, I couldn’t help but notice the white robed angels with their wings stretching approximately 8 feet across.

“I called them,” said the man next to me as he watched me admiring the ethereal figures.

“You called them?” I asked thinking they had just been a group of individuals showing their respect.

“Yeah, I heard on the Bert Show that there was a possibility of protesters coming so I called them and they sent out an email this morning to rally people.”

“Who are they?” I asked. He went on to explain that they are called Angel Action, a volunteer group that shows up to these events, surrounds the opposing group and raise their angel wings to shield the family from the protestors. The angels do not say a word to them, but simply keep them out of view. Apparently, there are different chapters of these angels across the country.

Angels in Action

As I said before, it takes a lot to surprise me. Still, I sat there in shock thinking what a wonderful concept this was and what an amazing thing it is that these angels do. These people take time out of their lives and volunteer to attend funerals of people they have never met in an effort to ease the pain of the grieving and to keep the hate from spreading. I couldn’t help but wishing everyone had a set of angels that would show up and block us from callous remarks, biting words and any cruelty we might encounter daily.

One of many homeade signs that lined the street.

Thankfully, the protestors elected not to show up, although there was buzz amongst the crowd that a few had come earlier and were arrested, but I couldn’t find anyone to confirm that for certain. I later saw in an article that the hate preacher was belly-aching about how his inability to protest at the funeral was a violation of his free speech.

Boo-freakin’ –hoo! Being an Irish Catholic, menstruating, former student that is dating a marine and that has many gay friends, as well as several female friends that I am pretty sure menstrate, I consider his rants and ravings offensive and in direct violation of my pursuit of happiness. Not to mention his protests cause noise pollution and there are ordinances for that.

Anyway, all I have to say is, “Not today, Fred.” You may think that you are righteous, but you certainly aren’t moral or humane. Nor do you have an ounce of compassion in your body. If you did, you would never protest a funeral hiding behind God's name and make a family’s suffering even worse.

Preach your hate if it makes you feel all warm and cozy. Twist the words of the Bible to fit your warped views. Make your protest signs. We heathens don’t care. After all, God has sent us our own set of angels to protect us from evil like you. Oh, and if you are ever in Detroit, give me a call. I have a Marine boyfriend with several military friends, a nephew that is a Private and a bunch of bikers that would love to have a few minutes alone with you.

Bikers gather to honor the fallen and pay their respects.