He Didn't Have A Phantom Condition. He Was Assaulted.

When I wrote for newspapers, a few things frustrated me.  Among them were politicians and other officials who'd talk around my questions.  Another was the constraints one editor put on me and other writers.  So, as I complained to another writer, "I can write about cops and robbers but I can't write about the real crimes."

But nothing twisted my panties or chamois bike short liners (remember those?) more than headline writers.  They'd come up with phrasings that, sometimes said something different from, or even the exact opposite of, what my article described.  Or sometimes what they wrote things that someone, especially if they came from a different generation, culture or other life experience might hear differently from what was intended.

I saw an example of this today:  "Boy Beaten and Bruised in Bicycle Face Attack at LI School Parking Lot:  Cops."  

Now, perhaps I'm a bit of a geek, at least in this sense:  I can say, without boasting, that I probably know more about the history of bicycles and bicycling than anyone who's not a specialist in that field.  So when I saw "Bicycle Face," I immediately thought of the rationale conservatives during the 1885-1905 Bike Boom gave for keeping women off bicycles.  They believed that the rigors of being out in public, in rain and wind and sun, and of simply being on a bicycle, twisted their pretty little heads into what they called "Bicycle Face."

Now, of course, with all due respect to Long Island law enforcement officials, I doubt that their training includes ways of recognizing Bicycle Face--or that most of them have even heard of the term, even if they are cyclists.  And I think it's even less likely that some random thug (the victim is a 13-year-old boy; the perp is believed to be a good bit older and six feet tall) would attack someone for having "Bicycle Face," though, perhaps I can imagine using the phrase as a schoolyard taunt.

Now, I don't mean to make light of a boy being bashed in the face with a bicycle.  No one should have to endure that, and it upsets me that something that can be such a force for good and a source of so much pleasure can be used to commit violence against another living being.  My heart goes out to that boy and his loved ones.

But, as a writer, I also abhor crimes against journalism and the English language.  A much more accurate--and, if I do say so myself, snappier--headline might've been: LI Man Slams Bike Against Boy's Face.

The Unofficial Beginning

 Here in the US, the Memorial Day weekend is often seen as the “unofficial beginning of summer.” The weather, and my rides, certainly lived up to that billing.

First, as an aside, I’ll tell you how the holiday came to be the “unofficial beginning of summer.  One interesting fact about Memorial Day is that the date on which it’s observed has nothing to do with any battle, the birth of any historic figure or any other historical or mythical event.  When the holiday was first designated, it was called Decoration Day (when I was a child, some people still referred to it that way) because people—some of them newly-freed slaves—decorated the graves of Union soldiers who died fighting the Civil War.  In those days, there wasn’t a flowers.com or even very many florists.  So, people had to pick flowers from their gardens or the woods.  And, as the holiday was commemorated only in the northern US, late May was chosen because that’s when flowers are in full bloom in this part of the world.

Anyway, about my rides: They are both trips I've taken many times before. On Saturday, I pedaled up to Greenwich, Connecticut via the Pelham Bay Park trail and back roads and streets in Mamaroneck, Rye and Greenwich.  The weather was all but perfect:  warm, but not too, with a breeze that seemed to ripple the wisps of clouds in the blue, sunny sky. Yesterday, I rode to Point Lookout on a warmer day, though the temperature dropped a good bit after I crossed the Veterans' Memorial Bridge (how appropriate!) to the Rockaways.

I felt great after both rides. That, to me, is another sign that summer is, if not here, at least close:  I am in better shape.  But, apart from the roads and views, the rides offered one interesting contrast.  My ride to Connecticut reminded me of the ones I took in the early days of the pandemic:  I saw hardly a car or SUV, let alone a truck, along the way.  I glanced out to the main roads and didn't see much more traffic, and when I passed over the highways (the Cross Bronx Expressway, Hutchinson River Parkway and New York State Thruway), I saw even less traffic than I normally see on a Sunday morning or afternoon.  On the other hand, not surprisingly, I saw a lot of vehicular traffic on the roads leading to the beaches and foot traffic along the boardwalks and pedestrian paths.

Today is, in more ways than one, the day after--the  beginning of summer, for one thing.

A Ride To Remember Them

Today is Memorial Day in the United States.

To some, things are returning to "normal" because parades, and other gatherings large and small--including retail store promotions-- will be held in person for the first time in three years.

For others, though, things will never be "normal," whatever that meant, again. Or, for them, there is a new definition of "normal."

Such people include the loved ones of those who died as a result of COVID--or this nation's nonstop wars.  Such folks include Chris Kolenda, a retired U.S. Army Colonel.  

Today, he will take a 100-mile Memorial Day Honor Ride.  It will be followed by a barbeque and auction event at the Milwaukee County War Memorial Center.  He plans to use the ride, barbecue and auction to raise awareness for another, longer, ride he plans to start in late September.

That will take him across half of the nation to Arlington National Cemetery,  just outside Washington, DC.  That destination is not surprising, but, unless you know the motivation for his ride, its starting point is.  

He's using his planned trip to raise money for the Saber Six Foundation, which he created to help the families and descendants of the unit he commanded in Afghanistan.  The Foundation also supports a Rotary Club scholarship endowment for disadvantaged youths who aspire to public service.

During one particularly horrific tour in 2007, the West Point graduate lost six of the men under his command.  One of them, Private First Class Chris Pfeiffer, hailed from Spalding, Nebraska--the starting point of Kolenda's planned tour.

From there, his route will take him to the gravesites of the five other soldiers who lost their lives:

    Carroll, Iowa--Sergeant Adrian Hike 

    Ellwood, Illinois--Specialist Jacob Lowell

    Hall, Indiana--Staff Sergeant Ryan Fritsche

    Minersville, Pennsylvania--Captain David Boris

    Arlington National Cemetery--Major Tom Bostick.

"They all died following my orders, doing things I asked them to do, being in a place I asked them to be," Kolenda said.  "They deserve to have their stories told and they deserve to have their sacrifices remembered."

The first sentence of his statement should be on the gravestone of anyone who has led soldiers, sailors or other uniformed fighters who died under his or her command.  Alter it slightly--I died following orders, doing what I was asked to do in a place where I was asked to be--and you have an epitaph for anyone who's died in battle.

Photos of Chris Kolenda by Jovanny Hernandez, for the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.