A Day of Firsts

It was indeed a day of firsts.

Last year when we traveled to Cuba on a missions trip, I shared with the younger team members that they would get out of the trip just what they put into it, and encouraged them to embrace the opportunities that lay ahead.  It’s a philosophy that could really be carried out in daily life.

This morning we attended the fair where my HSMM brother, Super Dave, was sharing the message.  I had not heard him speak before in a public setting and was pleased with his God-given confidence.  Hearing Super Dave share a message - a first.  Afterwards, some of the other HSMM brothers and sisters were talking about our experiences in the past and how blessed we are to be in fellowship with one another.

As my family and I walked through the fair we came across a fry truck selling poutine, and we wanted some.  Let me tell you, many places claim to have poutine, but these guys knew what they were doing.  Real hand cut home fries, hot gravy - not lumpy or with the skin floating on it - shredded white cheese on a plate well worth the $5.  If you ever run across Mustards Last Stand, stop in try the poutine.

The usual petting zoo was at the fair; the one with the goats, the pigs, the llama, the alpaca, the porcupine, the....wait a minute.  Those two porcupines were there only to look at.  They really are quite adorable creatures.  Also there was a two week old lion cub.  We each took the time to pet this little guy.  If you have ever pet a young sheep, it feels much the same.  Tight fur that feels fresh and new.  He had playful eyes and sharp claws.  The pads on his feet were like soft leather, much like those on my childhood pet raccoon, Mandy.  Another first for the day.

There was an elephant at the fair this time as well.  Such amazing creatures.  Giants, but gentle at the same time.  I know guys like this.

The afternoon and evening were spent with friends.  Sue and John are a great couple.  They are real, down to earth, honest friends.  We laughed, we shared stories of our work in ministry, our kids played together, played cards and ate good food.  Sue and John are Mennonite, not horse and buggy mennonite, but Mexican Mennonite.  I tried these cheese stuffed peppers that were deep fried in dough.  Thems is some good eatin’, and another first for the day.

John recently bought a .22 caliber shotgun.  I have never shot a gun, aside from a pellet or BB gun, so we took the time to get armed and do some shootin’.  There it was, another first for the day and I gotta say, I quite enjoyed it.  Makes one feel like a man!

As we headed out for home around 9:00 p.m., I took a road that is mainly inhabited by horse and buggy mennonites.  It would seem the Amish were all heading home from church at this hour, I had not seen this many buggies before on one road.  Horse and buggies on the road at night is different than in the daytime.  I was on my motorbike and didn’t want to scare the horses, who are pretty comfortable on the roads anyway, so I took it slow.  I was distracted at one point with a seemingly random light shining in amongst the trees.  As I rode closer, I saw that it was an Amish lady, dressed in black, using a flashlight to lead another Amish Mennonite in a wheelchair.  That’s not a sight you often see.

All in all, after the 15 or more buggies, we made it closer to home, only to hit rain, but we arrived safe and sound.

The evening ended with word that my HSMM brother, Campy, had lost his 93 year old mom this afternoon.  He was able to be with her, holding her hand as she died.  God bless you and bring you peace Campy.

No matter our age or the life we have left in us, we just never know the day or time when it will come to a close.  Embrace each day you have.  Take the ‘firsts’ in you life and make memories.  You get out of life what you put into it.

Everyone has a story.  Make yours.

Friday the 13th

It’s a strange phenomenon, this biker brotherhood.  Friday the 13th in Port Dover was a spectacle to be experienced.  There really isn’t anything to do there aside from the repeated walk through the village admiring bikes of all kinds, all sizes and makes, stock to tricked out customs that only the rare gifted mind can create.

In Dover, we are all bikers, or at least, bike enthusiasts.  Colours or not, affiliations or not, Harleys or Hondas we all get along for this special day reserved for the small port side town of 4000.  The town swells to well over 100,000 people with some estimates upwards of 250,000 people with over 15,000 bikes.  All for one day, then we go home.

While we were immersed in the sea of people, handing out free water and Barry Mayson DVD’s (former Hells Angels President turned Christian and founder of Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry), we shared laughs and stories with our own ministry brothers from Windsor, Tilbury, Harrow and Michigan.  We packed it in around 4:30 p.m. when the crowds grew smaller but the parties pick up and the shirts come off.  This definitely isn’t a family event after a certain hour.

We continued the next day in Tillsonburg with The Day After, held at the Upper Deck Youth Centre.  It was a day of socializing and relaxing.  We see each other at rides and the occasional barbecue, but often we miss the chance to get to know each other by embracing the down time.  That’s what this day was for.  And it was a good day.

We learned later that it was tragic for others.  

International Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry President Curtis Jamieson and his wife Patty were in a car accident that totaled their truck.  Other than Curtis’ pulled back, the couple is fine.  Brothers TT and Lamar were riding in Alabama on Friday when a car pulled out in front of them.  Lamar clipped the car and was injured, but is generally alright.  Tommy “TT” struck the car straight on the side and later died on Saturday of his injuries.

I know Curtis, Patty and TT.  They are brothers and sisters in the ministry and they all have a heart for God.  Curtis and Patty are two of the most enthusiastic people I have ever met.  Their love of God is contagious! 

TT was always smiling, moving around and may have needed a bit of Ritalin, but he was a joy to be with and his sense of excitement spread wherever he was.  His passing brings a loss to the Saints, especially the Phenix City, Alabama chapter, from which he was the President.  TT joins fellow Saint and founder Barry Mayson in Heaven.  We can be sure the two of them are drinking in the pure joy of the heavenly brotherhood.

Everyone has a story.  How will you be remembered?

Shattered Solitude

I was sitting on what was to be a quiet lunch break when I found my solitude interrupted by people seeking the intrigue of the location. I had parked my motorcycle at the edge of a 300 foot cliff overlooking the north shore of Lake Erie, hoping to sit back, enjoy my home packed lunch and do some reflection and writing. This was short lived dream.

An older couple was touring the countryside in the old convertible when they noticed the worn sign directing them to the cliff. The couple lives in the lake side village of Port Dover, a couple hours east of here. Port Dover is a lovely little village with the character of a post card photo that makes you long for days gone by. But whenever a Friday the 13th rolls around on a calendar, Dover transforms into Canada’s own one day Sturgis event. This year’s event, which falls in August, expects to see over 15,000 bikes and over 200,000 people take over the village of 4000 residents. My family will be among the hoards of motorcycle enthusiasts, riders and hardcore bikers.

The couple who stopped by the cliff location where I sought some peace had never before been to the cliff. It is such a unique location at the end of a dirt road that is not commercialized in any way. Other the barrier in the small parking area, the cliff and the effects of gravity are accessible to anyone feeling inclined to view the rapid decline.


As they were leaving, a young guy showed up. We had a bit of small talk – it’s difficult to ignore a guy sitting on a motorcycle at the cliff’s edge I suppose. When he walked back my way after a short trek along the edge, I had my notebook out to do some writing. Marcio, as it turned out was his name, asked if I was writing in my journal. I explained that I was an aspiring writer and he told me his journal was in the truck he had parked in the lot just of the hill. Curious, I asked why he had a journal, since there are few males who would admit to such a past time.

Marcio was visiting family in the area for the first time since the earthquake in Haiti. He lives in West Virginia but had travelled to Haiti on his first missions trip; he is just 21. The trip was not to help with restoration, but rather his team had arrived prior to the quake and was just seven miles from the epicenter when it struck the island nation. Marcio and his team were relatively safe, with only minor injuries, but the home of the family next to them fell and killed many of the more than 20 people living there.


The team was heli-vac’d out of Haiti to the safety of a country not in ruins. Instead of coming home, Marcio returned to Haiti to help with the rescue and rebuild for the next four and a half months. In one single day he witnessed the mass grave filled with 150,000 bodies. We can’t imagine. We don’t want to.

My quiet and peaceful lunch was shattered by people, but I am reminded of the blessings I have. That I can take time to ride out to the cliff’s edge to meet people and share stories of travel and life’s adventures. I am reminded at opportune times that everyone has a story. It may not be the time that you want to hear if, but if you stop and listen just maybe you will be filled with passion and inspiration to pursue your own dreams and desires.