This is a piece I wrote in the spring of 2005 or 2006 after holding a flag at a local soldier's funeral when Westboro Baptist came to picket. I would have gone to hold a flag even if that group wasn't there just to show support for the family and to honor the sacrifice of a life given in military service.
On the Funeral of a Local Soldier
Today my
community laid to rest one of its sons.
Hundreds gathered to honor the life and death of Sgt. Rick Herrema
although most of us had never met him or his family.
All I know
about Sgt. Herrema I learned from the newspaper or television news. He was the only son in a family of three
children. He grew up outside of
Hudsonville and graduated from Unity Christian.
He joined the Army after spending a short time in Colorado.
He loved the Army. He had been in
Iraq
only a few short weeks when he was gunned down by insurgent forces while
exiting a helicopter.
According
to what his family and friends said, Herrema was fun yet responsible. One told the story of his buying a school bus,
refurbishing it, repainting it, and driving his friends to another soldier’s
wedding. He was fiercely loyal to his
family, country, and faith.
I wish I
had known him.
Yet today I
was part of a community who joined together to say farewell to Sgt.
Herrema. I knew no one gathered today
and will probably never see anyone of these people again.
This
community was made up of various groups.
The most
important group of this community was the family and friends who knew the
fallen hero. There must have been
several hundred as the funeral procession was made up of close to 100
vehicles. They were old, and they were
young. For 90 minutes they shared
memories of his life inside the church.
An official
community was the group of Army officials who acted as pall bearers and
escorted the soldier to his final resting place. No doubt these young men were from all parts
of our county and may have been in Smalltown,
USA for the
first time. Hopefully they saw beyond
the cleanliness of this small west Michigan
community and sensed the strong value system of faith that molded Sgt. Herrema. Hopefully they also felt the appreciation
many have for their sacrifice to serve our county in the armed forces.
The next
largest group of the community simply did not fit into this mold we see daily
in Hudsonville. Their black leather,
doo-rags, and loud Harleys made them stand out from the conservative members of
this heavily populated Dutch area. They
gathered a mile down the road and rode their bikes together to the church. The parade of motorcycles was loud and long. They parked their many bikes and walked
silently to line up along the sidewalk with others to stand with others who had
cheered their arrival.
These were
the Patriot Guard, a group of veterans who travel around the country to
demonstrate their support of fallen soldiers’ families at funerals and
graveside services. A check of their
website showed that several riders came from as far away as Arkansas and Tennessee.
Tomorrow they will go north to another soldier’s funeral.
Another
group consisted of others of the Hudsonville area who were already lined up on
the sidewalk when the motorcycles approached.
Some carried posters that said “Thank you Sgt. Herrema for my freedom”
or “God bless the Herrema family.”
Others had similar slogans written on large sheets.
I was one
of this group—simply a local resident who loves the USA, is saddened when I
hear of a soldier killed, and gets chill bumps when the national anthem is
played.
Almost
everyone outside the church carried a United States flag. Two rows along the sidewalk on one side of
the road was a sea of red, white, and blue waving in the gentle winds under the
sunny sky. Flags were raised while
sheets and posters were held proudly.
The crowd filled the air with chants of “God bless USA” and “God bless
Sgt. Herrema” while the family entered the church parking lot and filed into
the church.
Following
the service as the funeral procession prepared to file to the cemetery a local
school allowed their students to show their respect. Several grades of students followed the
instructions of the Patriot Guard to salute the hearse as it passed by and
stand quietly while the procession passed by.
For at least ten minutes the elementary children stood at attention or
waved at the passing cars. They will have
a memory forever of showing thankfulness and respect to one who gave his life
for freedom and the impact their gesture had on the family and friends who
waved to them as they passed by in thankfulness.
For three
hours today all of these groups formed a community united in gratitude for
sacrifice
Yet another
group was anti-community. This was the
smallest group there yet they were responsible for the presence of so many
others. There were six or seven adults
and children in this group; I did not count them as most of us were careful to
not acknowledge this group with looks or comments.
This group also traveled from out
of state to attend the funeral. They
came from Kansas
to picket the funeral with signs and shouting.
Their chants of hatred and cruelty
sent chills up my neck.
Their purpose to disturb the
funeral participants is rooted in a religious belief that further separated
them from the community represented across the street from them. Their protest was based on a belief that God
is killing US soldiers in Iraq
and Afghanistan
because of the United States
tolerance of homosexuality.
This small group had an area set
aside for their protest. Police were
present to keep them within these confines and to protect their freedom of
religion and freedom of speech to express their views although contrary to the
majority of people assembled that day.
Yes, they had the freedom to
protest.
A comment heard often on my side of
the street questioned the irony that Sgt. Herrema was killed fighting for freedom,
and now these people had the freedom to disrupt his funeral service and disturb
his family and friends.
For that reason we all came
together to protect his family and friends from the protestors even though our
religious and political views were as varied as the people assembled.
I really have little or nothing in
common with the people I stood with today.
The only black leather I have is in a purse and a couple pairs of
shoes. I have little contact with
elementary aged children. I have lived
in Hudsonville for less than two years; my last name does not begin with “Van”
or “Vander” and it does not end in “a” which means I don’t have Dutch
roots. I was neither family nor friend
of Sgt. Herrema.
But today I was a part of a
community that said thank you and goodbye to our son.
