Cross-posted somewhere else too

***

It's taken me all week to think about how to do this, write about this. I'm not any closer now to figuring it out than I was a few days ago, so if you'll draw up a chair and have a libation on me I'll spin the yarn here. You'll have to bear with me though. This will not be easy.

I have to go back a while first, to give some background.

Many weeks ago at this point I was doing something or reading something somewhere on the net, I can't remember the specifics now. Regardless, I ended up motivated to do some "research" on Eddie. What this means is that I started digging, throwing up the soil and seeing what I could find. I found a good amount.

I ended up on Sunshine's( #50, the Golden One) website, where I had been before many times. She has been very instrumental in the efforts to help Eddie and his mother, Anne. But this time it was different. I felt differently. I can't explain it.

I had been registered to attend MITM and had been planning my travel routes. Now I went back to these plans and looked at them in a different light. I knew where Eddie was, and that if I chose to return from MITM via rt. 90 I could visit Eddie as the route would take me literally within a few miles of him. I found myself needing to do this.

I had known of Eddie for years now, as we all have. Something had struck a chord in me.

I sat on these thoughts for quite a while, rolling them around in the back of my head until I finally got off my ass and emailed Sunshine. I told her I was thinking about visiting Eddie and asked what she thought. She and I hadn't talked in quite a while, and it was good to hear back from her. She told me, simply, to go for it. She said Anne would be thrilled. Which she was. I've posted about that conversation with Anne previously, so will only mention that the plans were a go.

Several people became aware of my plans and things started to happen. Don Anderson wanted to organize a fundraiser. Anne_again Mitchell expanded upon that idea to have a MITM T-shirt raffle with the proceeds to go to Eddie. Cheezie (#44), as well as being indispensable and making all this possible donated a T-shirt to go to Eddie. Mrs. Cheezie (Paula) conducted the raffle. Andrzej urged the throngs gathered for the tat contest to contribute to the fund. Snarl (#67) came up with a #13 Asshole™ sticker made by the esteemed Pippi (#66, the Across-The-Pond Asshole™) for me to give to Eddie. Steph Greenberg (now a Slug) gave me a way kewl set of skull and bead zipper pulls made by his wife the Red Haired She-Devil to give to Eddie. The Slugs came up with a really awesome laminated "Brotherhood of the Slug" logo flag which was taped up to the beer cart for everyone to sign with a marker, to be brought to Eddie. Over $200 was raised through the raffle and personal contributions to be donated to Eddie. When I saw Paula holding the bag full of raffle tickets, I was touched.

I had so many people ask me about my plans, comment on what a good thought it was, and wish me well, that it really overwhelmed me.

For all of you who gave your effort, time, consideration and money toward these happenings, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Riding along with me for the trip home were Banker Bob (my companion for the ride out), Don Anderson and Steve Tuttle (#55, the posingest Asshole™). Bob and I continued Northeast past Mansfield, Ohio where Steve and Don had made arrangements to spend the night. We ended up in Madison, where Eddie is, around 1030. After getting showered and fed and right before crashing mightily, I checked my voicemail. Anne and I had been in touch over the weekend and everything was still set for the morning.

My impression of Madison is that it is a small, peaceful town that caters to summertime tourism of Lake Erie. We stayed in a small fleabag motel. Bob said there were even real fleas. But you can't be too picky late at night. And it seemed safe.

In the morning we found a pretty good local diner for breakfast, and continued the valued discourse we had engaged in off and on throughout the entire weekend as we ate. We then set off to the nursing home, which was only minutes away.

We pulled up to the place. It was small, and tucked into a very nice and quiet residential neighborhood. As is the case, our arrival was heralded and Anne came out to greet us. In appearance she presented herself as a smart-looking, attractive professional woman. About average height with blonde hair. We introduced ourselves and chatted for a bit. It was extremely hot and humid out. I got some things together and we went inside the front entrance, where there were some tables set up to the left of the doorway.

Seated in his wheelchair by one of these tables was Eddie. Anne had mentioned to me that he usually did not get up early in the mornings so he might be somewhat drowsy. What can you say about meeting someone that you've looked forward to for such a long time, that you've felt so strongly about? It gets hard here.

He was wearing a black T-shirt with the Cleveland Indians logo on it. Anne said he is a big fan of the team. He had an IV stand behind his chair. During those first minutes as we sat in that area his eyes would at times be very focused on us, at times wander and become unfocused, and at times he did start to drift off. Anne would at these times talk to him and rouse him.

I knelt down and introduced myself to him, and held his arm. He returned my look, directly into my eyes. The emotions were very strong.

Hi sits in his chair, slightly slumped and hunched forward. He is tall, and his legs stretch out in their supports in front of him. There is a presence about him. I found part of this presence due to my speculating on what he had been like before, knowing what I did know about him and had been told by others. It was very difficult not to give in to despair in seeing this once proud and, so I gathered, very self-confident person in such a seemingly helpless condition.

We sat, and talked. Anne told us about how Eddie was doing, and in listening to her I could sense a very positive attitude, hopeful that Eddie would continue to improve and with no element of despair. The love she shows for him fairly glows around her. She played with him and talked to him, and kissed and hugged him. I could tell he responds to this in his expressions.

It was at this time that I presented her with our gifts. She was very touched and surprised at the amount of money, and very grateful. She exclaimed over how nice it was that people signed the Slug banner to give to Eddie, and said it would go on the walls with all the other things given by many people. She talked to Eddie, telling him about what everyone had done. Her gratitude was very forthcoming.

After about half an hour we heard our fellow travelers arrive. Steve and Don were there. When they first walked in, I was watching Eddie look at them and his eyes became very bright when they rested upon Don, as he crouched down to greet him. It was clear to me that something in Don had Eddie's attention. I think it is in part because there are subtle similarities in facial structure; both have facial hair and wear their hair very short, and from a quick glance at older pictures of Eddie you might think that Don looks a bit like him, or the opposite. Perhaps Eddie saw something of a reflection of himself in Don.

They sat down, and we continued talking. It was apparent to me also that Anne was grateful to be able to talk with someone about Eddie, that she does not often get to do so in such a way with people she hasn't spoken with before. Maybe others she comes into contact with have tired of the subject, I don't know. But I got the impression that she was starved for contact, and that having people with her that had things in common with Eddie was something that doesn't happen often enough for her.

Anne told me that the accident happened in March of '96, and that Eddie had been going through some very rough times prior to the accident. His wife had left him the previous year and in December '95 the divorce had become final. He had given up drugs but was now drinking heavily, and had been before the crash.

He has some very nice tattoos. Anne told us a funny story about one of them. She said a long time ago Eddie had met someone in a bar, a guy who asked him if he had ever met a guy who had a cock that hung below his knee. He showed him a tattoo and Eddie had to have one like it. Sure enough, on the inside of his right leg just under the knee, a Rooster dangles from a noose, neck bent under the rope. We got a good laugh over that.

One other tattoo that struck us was on his right elbow. A spiderweb made its way around the outside of the joint. I took a picture of this especially for Allen-1, as he has very similar ones on both his elbows. Eddie's expression in this picture is a very knowing one, proud of his tattoos and smiling with a glint in his eye. I'm sure of it.

Anne asked us if we wanted to see Eddie's room, and we went down the hallways slowly; she wheeled Eddie but had to also keep his IV attached and alongside him. We assisted her in maneuvering his chair.

His room is pretty nice. It's a large room with space for 2 occupants. He does have a roommate, who we did not meet. Eddie has the inside part of the room, away from the door, with his bed along the wall and posters and pictures above it filling the wall. What struck me most amongst these pictures were a couple of him that must have been taken right after the accident. In the pictures he's lying in bed hooked up to a respirator, obviously unconscious, with bruises and abrasions visible on his face and the parts of his head that are not covered up. The rest of his body is in some type of protective bracing. Wires and monitors are everywhere. I wondered why they would want to keep these visions forefront in their memories by having them out and up on the wall. Maybe it's so as not to forget how far he's really come since the accident.

The other pictures that captured me were 2 taken when he was active in the Navy. One is taken on a small scout boat; Eddie is in full fatigues and sitting on the boat's floor with his back against some structure and his feet braced against the edge of the boat. He holds a large gun of some sort. The boat is underway at high speed. He faces the camera with a look of machismo and bravado, and rightly so. He is serving the nation, and having a kickass time.

The other one is also of him in full fatigues, in a garage. Maybe it's home, but he again holds his gun as he poses in front of his bike. And again he looks at the camera with a "you can just go to hell" look in his eye and on his face.

There is a computer in the room. I remember hearing somewhere that Anne had gotten Eddie a computer to help him and to have some connection to past interactions. She mentioned some type of "mindmouse" software that she's looking into getting. I'm not familiar with it; maybe it's one of those things that you can move a mouse with by looking at parts of the screen. If so, maybe this will help Eddie be able to use the computer again in some way.

Anne wanted to bring Eddie outside, and wanted to show us the van which some of our acquaintances and friends were so instrumental in helping her buy. She needs to park it way out in the back of the parking lot so it will be out of the way. We wheeled Eddie out there and set him in some shade under a tree. Anne asked if we could bring our bikes around so Eddie could see and hear them, and my friends were more than happy to oblige her. As they made their way around to the front of the building I went over to the van with Anne.

It is a full-sized red van, with the hydraulic lift platform for the wheelchair. It is in good condition. Anne mentioned having to have some work done on it but nothing major. She says it was a Godsend to have this van and remains grateful for everyone's help in obtaining it. The plates read "GO ED K".

I placed the Asshole™ #13 sticker on one of the rear windows, where it would be visible. It looks great there. Thanks go out to Sweden and Par with his talents and generosity in making these excellent stickers, the proceeds of whose sales to the Assholes™ goes to the EK trust. I have sent pictures of the van and the strategic placement of the sticker to Par so that he can put them up on his website. I have asked Par to let us know when they are ready to be viewed, and I trust that he will do so.

Eddie's Asshole™ #13 hat was in the van, and I took it and brought it over to Eddie. I had been wearing my own hat, and wanted some pictures of him wearing his and the two of us together.

The others came around with the bikes, and Eddie's attention did seem to be drawn. Again, his attention seemed more drawn to Don than anything else. At one point Don was kneeling down by his wheelchair talking to Eddie, and I was in the right place to get a wonderful picture of Eddie as he looked at Don. There is a smile on Eddie's face and his eyes are wide open, alert and aware, as he looks upon Don. It was moving, and the picture captures that moment in time forever. I remember remarking to Bob that Eddie especially liked Don.

As it was still very hot out, we brought Eddie back inside to his room where it was cool. I was wheeling him at this time, and as I pushed him I was bending down close to him. As we moved I heard him making humming sounds to himself. It was something to hear his voice. As we made our way back down the halls, Don put his arm around me and we hugged a bit while walking. It was another moment I won't forget. We were feeling some of the same things.

I didn't mention before some of the other things in his room. On the wall opposite the bed is a huge wall hanging, the mural of Dana's crest design which is on the Patches. It depicts Eddie riding his bike, superimposed over a computer screen and keyboard. The number 13 is on the bike. This design is in the center, and the slogan "Go Eddie Go- EKIII Rides With Me" reads above and below it. Everywhere else all over the banner are the signatures and personal notes from many rmh/HeD people as well as many others. This is the banner that was at MITM '97.

There is also a picture of Princess Puma herself, Carol (Mandera) Hillberg (#79) that I couldn't pass up mentioning. This picture is in a frame and standing on the top of his bureau, underneath the banner. In it, Carol is seen wearing chaps and tight jeans with a long purposeful tear along one, well, cheek, for lack of other phraseology. Underneath the jeans and beneath the tear is something black and skin-tight. She is bending down provocatively with her bike beside her, and her ass is to the camera. Needless to say, I had to get a picture of this picture.

Time was beginning to get away from us, and we began to make our leave. The others took their turns hugging Anne and saying goodbye and there were some moist eyes in the room. As we stood in the doorway, Anne humorously cajoled Eddie, trying to get him to wave goodbye. She got him laughing, right out loud and smiling while he was laughing. As Bob stated, it was very good to get a response. Really good.

The others had their bikes around back and mine was still around front, so I lingered with Anne while they went to the back to come around and meet me. I said goodbye to Eddie, leaning in close again so he could hear me. I told him he'd see me again and to keep hanging in there, that we were all pulling for him. It was hard to walk away from him.

Anne and I talked a little right before I left. I told her that on more than one occasion over the weekend someone had mentioned to me surprise that she was so accepting; that she didn't harbor any bitterness toward bikers because it was riding which had done what it had to her son. She expressed surprise herself at this concern, saying nothing was further from the truth. She said she knew that sometimes things happen, and Eddie was in no small way responsible for what happened to himself. She again told me she had no idea how much support she would come to receive from all the people she has over the years.

We said goodbye, and hugged. I smelled her perfume for many miles afterward. It was hard leaving; the time went by so quickly and less than 2 hours was not nearly enough. I went back out to my bike, got my stuff together and waved goodbye. I met Bob at the end of the drive; Steve and Don had gone ahead to the gas station. We rode. Met the others, gassed up and hit the road. My thoughts trailed behind me, wanting to remain in a small room whose occupant's soul had once been where I was right then, in the wind. Whose soul, I was sure, yearned to be there once again. I don't think I spoke to my companions much during the next few stops.

At one of these stops, Don said to me that he was still so choked up about the visit he couldn't talk about it. I knew how he felt.

I will mention here that when Bob and I had been making our plans to ride out and back together and I had told him of my plans to visit Eddie, he had been a bit uneasy, not sure if he would come inside with me. As is perfectly understandable, some of us are less comfortable when faced with certain conditions. I myself did not know how I would react once actually there. Therefore, I was pleased when Bob said without hesitation that he wanted to join me after our arrival. After all was done and as we were leaving, Bob thanked me. Bob, I thank you for your support and companionship. It would not have been the same for me had you not been there.

I would also like to thank my other fellow travelers, Steve and Don. Steve made our visit easier and more pleasant with his casual witticisms, inserted skillfully and at very timely intervals. He also forged a nice connection with Anne; they talked about both Steve and Eddie's stints in the Navy. Apparently both were stationed at a couple of the same locations, although obviously at different times. Don was his always-open-and-honest excellent self, evincing much tenderness and caring for both Eddie and Anne. It was touching to see Eddie connect with him.

A word about hope. In all the time we spent with Anne, hope for Eddie's continued improvement and recovery surrounded her. It was almost painful in a way. I've thought about this hopefulness, and a couple of things come to mind. Upon seeing Eddie for the first time, as I said it is difficult not to feel very sad and to really doubt any further progress. It seems hopeless by appearance. But things can change that perception, as they did mine. Hope can spring eternal, to (badly, maybe) quote one of my longtime favorite authors.

One thing that contributed to this was our meeting another of the facility's occupants upon first arriving. A man named Rusty had heard us and come out to the front entrance. He walked with the help of a walker, and you could tell he had been injured in the past because there was some very apparent scarring on the upper part of his face and one of his eyes was pinched shut. This gentleman greeted us in a very loud and strong voice, asking us if we were there for the motorcycle meet. It seemed that the next week there was going to be some sort of fundraising run to either commence or end up at the place. As we moved our bikes a little ways away from the front door and to the other side of some shrubs, he could be heard shouting about those "fuckin' morons!" I smile at the thought of it. I never did find out who those morons were.

It seems that when he was brought in Rusty had been in a coma and after coming out of it had been entirely unresponsive for quite a long time. Obviously he made a drastic turnaround.

The other contributing element for me was a couple of anecdotes Anne related to us while we were there. One happened some time ago, before he was moved to the place he's currently in. One morning Eddie fell out of bed, and as he was being helped get back up, he just happened to say to the assembled group "I fell." Another instance happened more recently when a nurse or aide came into his room one morning. Upon entering she said "Good morning" to Eddie whereupon he responded back with the same "Good morning." The attendant was shocked, needless to say.

I think it is the example of Rusty and the bubbles that occasionally seem to come to the surface of Eddie's functioning that are the rays of light in Anne's world, those things which give her hope. And those things that made me wish myself that the hope may not be completely unfounded.

This visit to Eddie and his mother meant a great deal to me. I wish I weren't so far away; I'd like to be able to visit more often. It's a long day's ride from there, yet somehow the ride away from there seemed at times to pass by without passing. I was moving, aware of my surroundings and what was going on around me yet lost in a world that had no depth to it. I imagined the horror of being trapped inside a body that refused to work as I wished it to. I think it is everyone's nightmare; I imagine it might be like being buried alive.

I also hope that it has made me a more conscious and cautious rider. I have never ridden while impaired, having changed things in my life before ever getting up on 2 wheels. It pains me to see bikes parked outside of bars. I will never be able to accept or understand that. It's just not the same as driving a car. The vision of Eddie in his chair is enough to make me try in every way possible to make it so that something similar doesn't happen to me. If that means going a little slower, or looking a little better, or watching more carefully, or anticipating more critically, it has made me a better rider, and driver.

Has this changed me? I think so, deep down inside. I feel rewarded, and not for doing a generous thing or anything like that. I touched someone's life, and those people touched my life in turn. It is an experience that will stay with me forever. It has made me even more aware of how lucky I am to be healthy and have everything I do. I was also scared. Terribly so. I met someone who came very close to death doing something I very dearly love, and did not come out unscathed. I look upon my friend Bob, aka The Moosekiller, with not a small amount of awe at times. Here is a man who walked away from a collision which killed a huge animal weighing several hundred if not a couple thousand pounds. He says that out of all the crashes he's heard of involving a moose he's the only one to have lived. I find that not just a little awe-inspiring.

I think some amount of fear, that amount depending on the individual, is a necessary thing. Necessary so that we never forget how close we all really are to something very serious. I think it's necessary to be kept on your toes. And not just in riding, in many other aspects of life as well.

I'm going to stop philosophizing now, and in closing relate one more anecdote that Anne told me. She said that one time, and I don't know when, a rider came to visit Eddie unannounced and unexpected. He told Anne he was a "lurker" and was in the area and wanted to stop and meet Eddie. She only happened to be there herself. Anne said that visit meant a lot to her. I think her situation as well as Eddie's would be made better if more of us thought of doing something similar. I will say that the staff there gave me the impression that they would welcome anyone, at any time that came to see Eddie. And probably anyone else there too. To the unknown rider, if you are reading this, I thank you on behalf of Anne for the joy it was clear to me that your visit brought to a mother and her son.

To all those who organize and participate in the EKIII runs, I wish I could be there this year. It's a wonderful thing you all do, and I'm proud to be a part of it if only in spirit.

There. That's it. I'm done now. If you're still here, you're a tough one. It took me 10 days to get this out. I guess I'm pretty tough too. 10 years from now the feelings will be just as strong. A toast, then. To Eddie Kieger and his Mom Anne. Enough said.

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LESDL
80" RK 88" WG
74" Asshole(tm)
24" BS