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Often when on mc trips, I'll take my lunch to either a park or a cemetary; the former to watch kids play and see the next generation, the latter to remind myself that life is short. I'll read the names on the headstones, the born / died years and say "hello" to those who have passed. I like to imagine what their lives were like, what they would tell me if they could. I find it relaxing and makes me feel lucky to be alive...so many headstones with folks who died really young.

It has been a great monthly photo challenge topic.

Wow Ferret, what a tragic story. My Mom was the office manager for her company’s California branch when I was younger and managed corporate travel for the company nationwide. She booked a number of employees on the United flight that made the crash landing in Sioux City Iowa. I was away from home for military training when it happened, and when I got home, my Step-Dad admonished me not to bring it up with Mom. It’s something the family never discussed.

But in typical fashion, I do have a quirky fun story to change the mood about she subject that’s along the same lines.

In the 90s when I was an ad guy for Petersen Publishing, we were a young, carefree bunch. Translated, we partied and drank a lot.

I took the Metrolink train from my home in Orange to L.A. most days (I didn’t ride back then). One evening after work, we went on a bender at some clubs along the Sunset Strip. I staggered to the last train to OC and passed out as soon as I got home… failing to feed Linus and Lucky, my two cats.


I was awakened at 5am by Linus, smacking my face for breakfast. I got up and fed them both. As long as I was already up, I decided to take an early train in and have a big hangover breakfast at a diner near the office.

I got to the office around the usual time, and my coworkers were lined up at the door asking if I was OK and hugging me. I was as quite confused until someone turned up the news on the radio. Seems my usual Metrolink collided with a freight train in Fullerton. There were several injuries but, if memory serves, no fatalities.

I explained what had happened and that I took an earlier train. From that point on, coworkers who knew him dubbed my cat Linus the Savior.

Yea you'd think that avoiding a tragic life claiming event would make one thankful, but he always said they were his team mates and he should have been with them. The guilt consumed him. The brain is a strange thing, and how it processes things is unexplainable.

(07-27-2026, 04:48 PM)the Ferret Wrote: [ -> ]Yea you'd think that avoiding a tragic life claiming event would make one thankful, but he always said they were his team mates and he should have been with them. The guilt consumed him. The brain is a strange thing, and how it processes things is unexplainable.

I’d think that being part of a sports team would make a very tight-knit group. A feeling of guilt over relief or thankfulness would be understandable, thinking about people he no doubt cared a great deal for.

And the way the brain processes a stressful event is a mystery indeed. I was just chatting over the weekend with old coworkers. We reminisced about George… someone in the group moved once and we all pitched in to help. George put the mattress in the back of his pickup truck. When we all got to the new place, the mattress was gone.

None of us in the convoy of helpers saw the mattress blow out of his truck. George was convinced that the mattress must have blown out, landed on the freeway and caused a huge accident. We went back along the same route and no mattress, no accident.

Still, he couldn’t be convinced that nothing bad happened and guilt consumed him. He sold his truck, tore up his license and never drove again.

… the reason most of us remembered the story is because from then on, one of us would have to go pick him up and bring him to work

From 1980 until 1984, I was stationed at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California. Vandenberg is on the coast between Lompoc and the beach and we had a huge and very active motorcycle club at that time, called the "Iron Horse." We took many long rides of very large groups around that part of the country. One of our members was in a sky-diving club and sometimes had to chose between riding or diving. On one of those occasions, our ride passed close to the small airport where his sky-diving club jumped from the same day. He chose to go riding, but dropped by the airport on the way home from our ride. When he got to the airport, he learned the plane he was supposed to jump from had crashed and all his friends died, but his decision to ride with us, instead of jump, spared him.

The inspiration for this months photo challenge was based on thoughts of my brother. I am one of seven children, the youngest, my next brother too me just two years older died of the dreaded cancer last year. He was cremated and doesn't have a graveyard spot. I always thought it would have been nice to visit a plot with a headstone but his immediate family had other ideas and I couldn't interfere. He had lived in Newhall, CA for over four decades and did well for himself in the pool and property business. He was a London Metropolitan Policeman but met an American girl after she crashed her car on a roundabout coming out of Heathrow Airport in a hire car. It was her first roundabout, she went around it the wrong way and he was the first officer on the scene. They all had a laugh, love blosomed and he left for LA and that was that. He was a keen Motorcyclist (an ex motorcycle traffic cop) but as his condition worsened he gave up his well used BMW GTL1600 and continued on his Honda Shadow 750. Eventually the Shadow got too much too and then life got too much. He battled to the very very end. An elderly parents death is upsetting but kind of inevitable and a given, it's tough to accept the passing of a closely aged sibling though. It definately reminds me of what is and isn't important in life as i'm sure it has the others of you sharing those stories. No sympathies required, seriously, life is just @~*^ty sometimes and that is that.

It has been a very thought provoking challenge. I know you didn’t ask for it Tev, but deep condolences for your brother.

I’ve been thinking about my friend Troy. A former coworker and inspiration to start riding years ago. He became my riding coach, and kept me out of trouble for the first few months. We went on lots of rides together, until cancer made the rides fewer and shorter. And eventually I was helping his family sell his bikes.

What is lacking in background focus, is, I hope, compensated by having been captured at the witching hour as I took advantage of the warm Portland summer night to show my CB her new city on a two-hour "midnight cruise."

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A clearer daytime shot of the sign:

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Founded in 1882, Riverview cemetery was where the Portland Gilded Age who's who went once they no longer were.

In addition to the tombstone bearing their name inside the gates here, outside the gates, a street sign, a bridge, a park, a mansion, even an entire neighborhood keeping the name alive.

We meandered tonight, a looping two-hour midnight ride along Terwilliger, through Lloyd, over Abernathy, as Pittock looked on (If you're a Portlander, they're all as familiar as family) to finally arrive here: final destination.

But I find more interesting someone else who rests here, no memorial Portland street, bridge, park, mansion or anything else. For him, just a modest little tombstone under a small holly tree, because his fame was not here, was earlier and elsewhere, only on a tombstone here because his daughter loved him and wanted him close after all their lost years.

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 In the town of Tombstone, however, no tombstone needed.

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Very interesting!

New month, time for a new challenge!

Looking at July, seems like Emptysea had the first entry.