Destination | D. Brent Miller

July 4, 2012July 4, 2012

Pilgrimage to The Wall

Washington, D.C.

For some time, I have wanted to go to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. I have visited before, but have never visited with a mission. And so, riding to The Wall became my personal pilgrimage, and maybe closure. The proximity of the Moto Guzzi National Rally made it more possible.

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I left the Moto Guzzi National Rally one day early. My reason was the weather. It also meant that I was going to the memorial one day earlier than planned taxing my mental and emotional preparedness. It turned out to be a good decision. For that night, a storm rolled through the area downing trees and power lines. D.C., like many other cities, was in gridlock. I would never have been able to ride to The Wall if I had waited one day as planned.

Brent on guard duty Uncle Sam called me up for active duty in March, 1970; I was drafted. In November, I received orders for Vietnam and was home by Christmas on leave. In January, 1971, I went to Vietnam and was assigned to a Signal Corps unit on the Mekong River at Binh Thuy in the Can Tho Province, the 52nd Signal Battalion, HQ Company. In October, I received an early out and was home three weeks before my 21st birthday. When we processed out of Long Binh, we were ordered to turn in all our jungle fatigues. The only thing we could keep were our boots. We came home in khaki uniforms. I have kept those boots for 40 years.

You have probably heard many times that the soldiers returning from Vietnam were not treated so well. I can attest to that. What happened to our beliefs that all soldiers were welcomed home, just like in the movies about WWII. Not so Vietnam. But, time has changed that with military action and wars in the Middle East, and my personal mission to The Wall was born.

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I parked the motorcycle on the street next to the Potomac, about a half-a-mile from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. I dug through my bags for the things I brought. After securing the bike, I started walking towards the memorial. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my wife.

TXT: “I am parked and walking to The Wall.”

Lin: “My heart is with you love.”

I nearly lost it reading that text message from Lin. She is the incredible love of my life, I could feel her presence with me. I began to think of all the names on The Wall and loved ones and family members who never got to express their love or even say goodbye. All that is left is an engraved name on The Wall, and the many objects left behind.

Planning this mission, I wanted to write something to my brothers and sisters on The Wall. I took a copy with me.

I walked the entire length of The Wall, looking at the names and occasionally leaning against the wall. The polished granite is remarkable, for you cannot look at this memorial without seeing yourself. I walked back to towards the middle and found an appropriate spot. I placed my 41-year-old boots on the curb and the copy of my prose behind it.

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Pilgrimage to the Wall

Like so many other veterans from the Vietnam War
I wonder why my name is not on this wall. Lucky, I guess.
I returned home with only memories and my boots.

So many names etched in stone
on a black granite wall
memorializing an unpopular war.

The experiences of those who returned
are burned into our memories
and have marked on our lives.

Good memories of friendships and a brotherhood of comrades,
bad memories of warfare, destruction and death.
Memories of coming home to an unappreciative nation.

Our country has learned a great lesson from us,
taught by our experience, the lessons of war and the returning soldier.
You on The Wall would be so proud.

We have learned to separate the politics of war from the warrior.
No matter the conflict, our soldiers are now treated as the heroes
that they are, and all are welcomed home.

Rest in peace brothers and sisters.
We think of you often.
You are missed.

# # #

More than forty years ago, I returned from that land that caused our nation so much grief and changed so many lives. I have come to pay homage to The Wall—a pilgrimage. I am returning my boots, for I no longer need them.

D. B. Miller, Sgt. E-5, US Army, Republic of Vietnam, 1971.

I stepped back, saluted and then walked away.

TXT MSG to Lin: “Mission accomplished.”

As I walked away, I turned to look back. Visitors to the memorial were already starting to stop and read to see just what was left behind.

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Some photographed my boots. I heard one young boy say, “Look! Are those real boots?” Yes they are. They were mine. They belong to the memorial, now.

Rest in Peace Brothers and Sisters on The Wall, and Welcome Home to those who returned.

Peace be with you.

Brent

Note: Published on July 4th, Independence Day. Enjoy your freedoms.

July 2, 2012

2012 Moto Guzzi National Rally

Buena Vista, Virginia

There are several reasons for attending the 2012 Moto Guzzi National Owners Club Rally, even though I do not own a coveted Italian-made Moto Guzzi. I was looking for a place to travel to, to visit with and make new friends, and to check out Moto Guzzis. Mostly, I was looking for a few stories to tell, and I found a few in my travels.

Typically, I choose a route that is non-Interstate, but admit that some slabbing is often required, as was this adventure. I won’t go into all the turn-by-turn route details, but will comment on one section.

West Virginia is a motorcycling paradise, and my planned route included US 60 from Charleston, WV, to the east side of the state where the highway connects with I-64 into Virginia. When I was calculating my time and speed, I thought I might be able to average 45 on that curvy, mountainous section of US 60. Wrong. 30-35 mph is probably more like it. By the time I exited the mountains into flatter countryside, my shoulders were aching from the back and forth motion of riding the twisties. It was like a roller coaster.

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The rally site was a city park which allows camping. Lots of space for tents and a few RVs. Rally organizers say 316 people attended the event. After checking in, I picked a spot along the creek and set up the tent. Afterwards, I went looking for some of the guys from the SW Ohio Club. Later, I learned they would not be there until the next day.

It was hot. Temperatures were in the 90s and only a forecast of cooler nights made it bearable.

Motorcycle rallies are great for making new friends and finding old ones. As I was looking for my Ohio friends, I met a man from Peoria, Illinois. His name was Paul. I am from from across the river in Pekin, Illinois, we had some common ground. Turns out his riding buddy, also in attendance was one of my classmates, graduating in the Class of 1968, Pekin Community High School. I barely remember Steve Bruce because he only attended PCHS his senior year, but 44 years after graduating, we’re both at the same rally. Want more coincidence? He now lives in Cincinnati. What a small world!

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The food was catered, and it was pretty good. I didn’t see or hear anyone complaining about lack of food. That’s always a good thing for a bunch of hungry motorcyclists.

Of course, there were plenty of Moto Guzzi motorcycles. It seemed that just about every model was represented—new and old and a few with character.

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The first night actually turned out to be a pleasant experience for tenting. It cooled off sufficiently. The next day, Friday, started out as a furnace. When a park maintenance worker told me that it was already in the 90s, at 10 a.m., and headed to over 100. I decided to move on. I just can’t take the heat. I’d rather be creating my own breeze. I packed the tent. Loaded the bike, and departed Buena Vista on the Blue Ridge parkway, headed for Washington D.C.

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There are two more stories to tell from Buena Vista. Stay tuned.

Brent

June 9, 2012

A great Main Street Diner, Richmond, Indiana

Breakfast Ride

“Let’s meet for breakfast some place.” The deal was made. My brother, Brian, would be riding from Indianapolis, and I from the Cincinnati area. We try to find a place that is somewhat equidistant from each other. It turns out our first choice from my Google search was closed, but the backup place was only four or five blocks away.

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I had read a couple of reviews about the Main Street Diner, and it sounded like my kind of place. Nothing fancy on the outside, but inside, you find a warm friendly atmosphere, maybe a little eclectic contemporary with great service, AND, the food delicious.

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When I walked in the door and spotted the seating–counter or a booth–I knew this was my kind of place. In a way, it was very nostalgic like the old diners, but yet modern. Clearly, someone had put some effort into making this a nice diner experience.

The waitress, Rebecca, was a joy. She made our breakfast outing a delight, engaging us in conversation like she expects us back as part of the family. My brother ordered off the menu, but I had to try the special, Mushroom-Spinach-Cheese Omelet with toast and hash browns. It also came with a fruit cup. And it was delicious—mouth watering and perfect. The cook, maybe I should call him chef, made the rounds to make sure each diner was pleased with their meals.

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Brian and I devoured our food, and afterwards, poured over a couple of maps of far away places like Pennsylvania where our family came from in the early 1800s, and Missouri, where the BMW MOA rally will be held in July.

Finally, we suited up and headed to our respective homes down somewhat familiar highways. As for the Main Street Diner, I think we have found our place for future breakfasts in Richmond.

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See you on the highway.

Brent

May 20, 2012

Visiting a special place

Destinations can offer up plenty of activities and things to do, but sometimes, all you want is a place to sit.

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In downtown St. Joseph, Michigan, which sits at the mouth of the St. Joseph River on Lake Michigan, city leaders were wise enough to preserve the bluff overlooking the lake in a park like setting. Below the bluff, there is some development, but also the greatest asset of the city, Lake Michigan and its beaches.

On the bluff, there is an opening in the trees with a park swing facing the lake. It is the best, uninhibited view of the lake. You can sit and feel the breeze come in off the lake full of the aroma of a large body of water. It’s a sweetness like no other.

Sailboats and fishing boats make their way out the protection of the river into the lake past the St. Joe Lighthouse. It is very calming, relaxing, and near euphoric. Cost of parking: 10 minutes or more of driving around waiting for a spot. Cost of sitting in the park overlooking the lake: nothing. Value of the moment: priceless.

See you on the highway.

Brent

May 6, 2012

Hiking at the Caesar Creek Nature Preserve

Sometimes, I just have to combine two of my favorite pastimes—motorcycling and hiking. And so I found myself on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, motorcycling one my favorite roads to a favorite hiking spot, Caesar Creek Nature Preserve.

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I entered the trail and wound my way along the creek, observing how high the water is and how fast it was running. Clearly, the Army Corps of Engineers has increased the output at the dam, just a couple of miles up creek.

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There was only one other car in the parking lot, it’s occupants nowhere to be seen. It’s like I had all the trails to myself. How serene!

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See you on the highway.

Brent