A Tribute to My Brothers (By Birth and Otherwise)

I have two natural born brothers that I love with all my heart.  One of the toughest parts of my life was a time when I lost my relationship with them and they weren't a part of my life.  That lasted for more years than any of us would want to admit.  I know I am ashamed of myself for letting that misunderstanding lead to losing them from my life for a period of time.  

Still, we all do stupid shit in our life and that was certainly one of mine.  Luckily, time and a little humility enabled us to get our relationships back.  Unfortunately, it'll never be the same, but at least it's better and moving in the right direction.  I know I can reach out to them even if my pride might not let me.  It's a "guy thing" and it allows me to not have to worry about our relationship.  I know they are there when I need them.  I hope they know I'm there for them too.

In addition to my brothers by birth, I also have a set of brothers that bring a completely different perspective into my life.  In 2007, I was lucky enough to be taken into a brotherhood called the Desert Knights of America Motorcycle Club or DKMC, for short.  DKMC is a traditional motorcycle club founded on the principles of the original motorcycle clubs of the late 1940's.

Every aspect of our colors has significant meaning to those of us who wear it.  And, yes, that's me standing in the cold during one of our many charity poker runs to raise money for our favorite cause, Fisher House. 

In the late 1940's the end of World War II saw young men returning from combat. Many found the transition back to "the real world" more monotonous and "normal" than they could handle.  As a result, some formed motorcycle clubs in a search for something, anything, that could get their blood pumping again and help them feel that same sense of brotherhood they felt with the fellow soldiers.

Today we see many similarities in our combat troops returning from Iraq and Afghanistan.  The DKMC is there for them, giving them a safe place to land where they aren't judged and where they can feel comfortable and find "kindred spirits".  As one of our patches says, "Brothers in War...Brothers in Peace. Desert Era Veterans for Desert Era Veterans."

I'm not a "Desert Era Veteran", but somehow this incredible band of brothers allowed me to become a part of their world.  For that, I am eternally grateful.  Unfortunately, I suffer from a malady most Americans suffer from.  I have never been in combat.  I label it a malady because not having experienced combat means we can't even begin to understand the things they have been asked to do for their country.  Yet many people want to express opinions about how our returning servicemen and women should act and behave with little consideration for what they have been through.

That's not a problem in the club.  Our brotherhood is all about welcoming these men home and treating them with the respect they so richly deserve.  Sure, like any big family, we have our squabbles and at times, they seem really important.  But, the most important thing is that we remain brothers.  We get over whatever differences we have and we maintain that respect for each other.

I was given the road name of Maverick because of my wandering ways that are the crux of this blog.  A maverick is a steer or cow that's part of a herd, but seems to go its own way.  Marching to the beat of a different drummer, you might say.  The maverick is still part of the herd, but you can never be sure when he'll wander off again.

I guess I fit the mold.  I love being a part of my "herd", the DKMC.  Even when I wander off on some misadventure that takes me on the back roads of America by myself, I always know that this absurd, unbelievable and courageous group of young men have my back.  It's an awesome feeling.

Still, I hope my birth brothers and my DKMC brothers know that with Maverick, they have a brother who operates in a world governed by loyalty and honor, character and integrity, respect and love.