The Gamble Family (.Net)

I have a friend who lives by a three-word philosophy: “Seize the moment.” Just possibly, she may be the wisest woman on this planet.

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word “refrigeration” mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ‘Jeopardy’ on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, “How about going to lunch in a half hour?” She would gas up and stammer, “I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain.” And my personal favorite: “It’s Monday.” …She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect! We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Stevie toilet-trained. We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of “I’m going to,” “I plan on,” and “Someday, when things are settled down a bit.”

When anyone calls my “seize the moment” friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you’re ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It’s just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.

Now… go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to do, not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask “How are you?”, do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, “We’ll do it tomorrow” and in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say “Hi”?

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift – Thrown away. Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.

“Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here, we might as well dance.”

~ Author unknown, although this work has been attributed to Erma Bombeck and/or Dr. Calvin H. Hawkins ~

Be sure and read about the entire trip: Westward Bound, The Beginning, Day 1, Day 2, and Homeward Bound.

We started our 650 mile trip home on Tuesday. We had decided to ride from Okmulgee, OK to Memphis, TN today, then finish our trip home on Wednesday. We planned to ride 400 miles on Tuesday and the remaining 250 miles on Wednesday.

Tuesday was a day of simply riding east from Oklahoma through the center of Arkansas. By 11 AM, the temperature had already reached 100 degrees. We were very glad when we finally reached West Memphis, AR for the evening so that we could shower and cool off. We made a bad decision on our hotel, however. We checked into a Motel 6, which was adjacent to I-40 (the hotel was less than 75 yards from the interstate). Once we got to our rooms, we realized that all that we could hear was 18-wheelers thundering down the highway. Reluctantly, we decided to stay anyway, since we were weary and hot from our day’s ride.

When we returned to our room after supper, I told Leonard that if he should wake up any time after 3:30 in the morning and not be able to go back to sleep, that he should come bang on my door and I’d be glad to get up and leave out early. He knocked on the door at 5 AM. By 5:35, almost an hour before sunrisee, we were headed towards home.

About 40 miles east of Memphis, still in the dark, it started to rain - hard rain. By the time we got our rain gear on (which is another story), we were pretty wet. Being the hard-core riders that we are, we continued on - in the rain, in the dark - eastward. Fortunately, the rain stopped after about 20 more miles, and then the sun came up. The remainder of our trip home was quite enjoyable as we took US 412 through the back-roads of Tennessee. We arrived back in Murfreesboro around 11 AM.

Looking back, this was quite a trip - 1,710 miles. But, it’s not the miles that I will remember. It’s about reliving a piece of history, albeit (as I said earlier) a dark part of our nation’s history. I saw parts of this country that I had never seen before. I was given an opportunity to participate in a historical ride with over 200 other people. I met and talked with direct decendents of people who were in this land before Christopher Columbus arrived here in 1942. And, more importantly, I made the trip with a dear friend and was able to take that friendship to an even deeper level. I was also deeply touched as I learned about how our Native Americans were treated during their removal from the east in the 1800’s. This is a wrong that likely will never be made right, but hopefully as a nation, we can learn from our mistakes and never repeat this mistake again.

Be sure and read about the entire trip: Westward Bound, The Beginning, Day 1, Day 2, and Homeward Bound.

The Entire Route

After yesterday’s 400 mile day, our “short” 260 mile day seems almost trivial, except for the fact that we will only have one stop. We departed Hot Springs, AR at 9 AM and rode 125 miles through some greate scenery in the mountains of Arkansas to our lunch stop in Heavener, OK. The roads were very relaxing as they curved back and forth (remember that to a rider, curves = nirvana).

Oklahoma State Line

When we arrived in Heavener, OK for lunch, we were told that we would have an hour for lunch, so Leonard and I walked up the street to eat at a small diner. Imagine our surprise (only 45 minutes later), when we saw the group riding down the street without us! Well, since it takes 200 motorcycles about 5 minutes to pull out of a parking lot and get headed down the street, we took our time getting back to our bikes. We managed to catch up with the group in about 20 minutes. As Leonard put it, “Always expect the unexpected when you travel with The Lone Ranger.”

Two Miles of Motorcycles Stretched Out Across Oklahoma

After catching up with the pack, and riding 140 miles through another 100-degree afternoon, we arrived at Okmulgee around 3:30. We were surprised, and very flattered, when the local police department met us 30 miles out for our escort into town. As we rode into Okmulgee, we were greeted all along the streets of town by people waving to us. We all felt very honored to be greeted with such a show of appreciation.

In Okmulgee, we were treated to a welcoming ceremony by local Indian officials. Creek 2nd Chief Alfred Berryhill told an emotionally moving account of the final evening that Creek Chief Menawa had with his people in 1836 before they started their journey westward. At the end of the ceremony, a historical marker (which was funded by the Trail of Tears Commemorative Motorcycle Ride) was unveiled and dedicated on the grounds of the historic Creek Council House. Following the dedication, we were escorted to the Methodist Camp on the Creek Indian Reservation for supper.

Arrival in Okmulgee

Historical Creek Council House

Creek 2nd Chief Alfred Berryhill

Dedication of Trail of Tears Historical Marker

After supper, Leonard and I said goodby to many of the folks that we had ridden with for the past two days, and went to our hotel. Tommorrow, we start our return trip home.

Be sure and read about the entire trip: Westward Bound, The Beginning, Day 1, Day 2, and Homeward Bound.

The Entire Route

Leonard and I arrived at our departure point at 7:30 AM. With a light fog, we turned into the parking lot to find 50 bikes already in line. We were greated by representatives from the CMA (Christian Motorcyclists Association), who blessed our bikes with a brief prayer. By the time we left at 8 o’clock, there were about 200 bikes ready to roll.

Preparing to Depart on Our Journey

I have participated in, and even led, group rides, but I have never participated in a group ride of this size. To manage the movement of 200 bikes is quite an undertaking. The organizers of the ride have gone to great lengths in an effort to insure that the ride is successful, enjoyable, and safe. We had state and local law enforcement all along our route. As we approached towns, law enforcement officers stopped traffic at intersections so that we could safe pass. We had bikes strategically placed through the group with CB radios so that the ride leader could be kept aware of any situation that might arise. When 200 motorcycles are rolling at highway speed, the entire group stretches out to two miles from start to finish. In a group this size, normal things such as stopping for gas, suddenly become an event that must be tightly managed and coordinated.

Our 400-mile journey on Sunday took us through Corinth, Holly Springs and Senatoba, MS on our way to lunch in Helena, AR. We rode past huge fields of white cotton, soybeans, and rice throughout Mississippi and Arkansas. We arrived in Helena for lunch shortly after 12 o’clock noon. The section of Helena that we had lunch in was totally deserted. I have never been in a town where there was no sound at all - no cars, no people, nothing. Once all of the motorcycles shut off their engines, you could not hear a sound. It was an eerie silence. I have never experienced anything like that before. The local HOG group sponsored a Bar-B-Q lunch for us in an abandoned store. After lunch, Leonard and I went on a brief exploration of this ghost town.

Riding Through Arkansas

After lunch, we resumed out trip westward through Stuttgart, Pine Bluff, and Hot Springs, AR, where we stopped for the evening. We arrived in Hot Springs around 7:30. Showers were indeed welcome, as we had ridden through 100-degree temperatures for most of the afternoon. The hotel surprised us by having a “bike wash” station set up so that we could hose down our dirty bikes.

Be sure and read about the entire trip: Westward Bound, The Beginning, Day 1, Day 2, and Homeward Bound.

This is the story of a journey that I was fortunate to participate in. The journey, however, symbolizes a dark period in our nation’s history - A period in which the American government seized land from Native Americans and claimed it for itself. A period that reflects how greedy, arrogant and cruel our government can be. Make no mistake about it, I am proud to live in this great nation and to be an American. America is the greatest nation on earth, and I am truly blessed and fortunate to live here. I served this country in the United States Navy and helped to defend her borders and her flag - A flag that still brings tears to my eyes every time that I hear the Star Spangled Banner. But, as great as this nation is today, what it did to the American Indians in 1838-1839 is unforgivable, and that dark period of my nation’s history shames me as an American citizen.

First, a brief history lesson

Between 1816 and 1840, American Indians located between the original 13 states and the Mississippi River, including Cherokees, Chickasaws, Choctaws, Creeks, and Seminoles, signed more than 40 treaties ceding their lands to the U.S. In his 1829 inaugural address, President Andrew Jackson set a policy to relocate eastern Indians. In 1830, Congress passed the Indian Removal Act to force those remaining to move west of the Mississippi. Between 1830 and 1850, about 100,000 American Indians living between Michigan, Louisiana, and Florida moved west after the U.S. government coerced treaties or used the U.S. Army against those resisting. Many were treated brutally.

In one of the saddest episodes of our brief history, Cherokee men, women, and children were taken from their land, herded into makeshift forts with minimal facilities and food, then forced to march a thousand miles to Oklahoma. Some made part of the trip by boat in equally horrible conditions. Families, which included the elderly and ill were forced out of their homes at gunpoint, given only moments to collect cherished possessions. White looters followed, ransacking homesteads as Cherokees were led away. Families were separated.

Under generally indifferent U.S. Army commanders, human losses for the first groups of Cherokee removed were extremely high. By March 1839, all survivors had arrived in the west. No one knows how many died throughout the ordeal, but the trip was especially hard on infants, children, and the elderly. About 4,000 Cherokees and 3,500 Creeks died as a result of the removal. The route they traversed and the journey itself became known as “The Trail of Tears” or, as a direct translation from Cherokee, “The Trail Where They Cried” (”Nunna daul Tsuny”).

Now, our trip

My friend, Leonard arrived at my house on Friday afternoon at 2 PM. I had my bike all shined up and loaded, so when he arrived, we immediately took off towards Florence, AL. Our plans were to get to Florence by early evening, eat supper, and enjoy the evening before going out to Waterloo, AL on Saturday. (Waterloo is where the majority of the Indians were brought and gathered before they started on their westward journey to Oklahoma.) Our trip to Florence went smoothly. We arrived around 5:30. After an enjoyable steak at Big Mike’s, we rode to Waterloo to walk around before the thousands poured in on Saturday. The trip to Waterloo was relaxing as we rode in the cool evening air.

Waterloo is a tiny community, with the exception of the third weekend of September, when over 100,000 motorcyclists invade this tiny community for the annual Trail of Tears Commemorative Ride. Each year, the ride starts on Friday in Cherokee, NC and makes it way to Chattanooga, TN for the evening. This segment of the ride is typically a small group of motorcycles (less than 100). The second leg of the trip is the largest in number, as 70,000 to 100,000 motorcyclists make the trip on Saturday from Chattanooga, TN to Waterloo, AL. The final leg of the trip, the one in which Leonard and I will ride, is a 675-mile trip from Florence, AL to the Creek Indian Reservation in Okmulgee, OK. This trip usually has a couple hundred motorcyclists and takes two days to complete.

On Saturday morning, we had breakfast and then rode back out to Waterloo. It is important to get to Waterloo before “the ride” gets there, because once the huge group of bikes begins to arrive, all outgoing traffic lanes are closed. It takes almost two hours before the last motorcycle crosses the bridge into Waterloo.

Bikes, Bikes, and More Bikes

The group of around 100,000 motorcycles began arriving shortly after 12 o’clock noon. We stood and watched as bike after bike crossed the bridge into Waterloo. We stayed until 3:30 and then returned to our hotel to get cleaned up for the evening. After supper, Leonard and I rode into Tuscumbia, AL. We enjoyed a relaxing evening in the city park, which is very beautiful and peaceful. The park has a large natural spring waterfall and a fountain with lights. After our park visit, we returned to the hotel to get ready for tomorrow’s trip to Oklahoma.