A labor of love.

Got this link in an email today and I must confess it brought a tear to the old eye!  Back in 1983 Sherman Schroeder and two other fellows started a group called the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado.  These guys were not your run of the mill Harley riders.  They rode the bikes that were known as British, for whatever reason. 
When I met Sherman he was forever telling me about his Matchless, his Norton, his featherbed frame, his TT Special and I had no idea what he was talking about.  I was in his garage and all I saw was motorcycles in various states of repair or disrepair depending much on the eye of the beholder.  I , myself, thought it was a hell of a mess.  Then dear Sherman   was diagnosed with terminal cancer and I got the wake up call of my young life.
Mark Bosworth, a life long friend of Sherman's, came from St. Louis.  He had a pickup and a trailer and in the trailer was a Norton motorcycle that Sherman had ridden 30 years earlier.  It was restored to pristine condition by Mark.  He had even gone so far as to have decals painted because they did not make the decals anymore.  Sherman was tickled to death.  I have a picture on my desk of Mark, Steve Vallejo, Sherman, Dave Irving, and Ken Ito standing behind the Norton.  If you look closely you can see Cleo, the dog.  This was the first labor of love.
In Colorado Springs is a beautiful man name Dana Robbins.  He took the Matchless, which gave new meaning to "Basket Case" and restored it to museum quality.  I want you to just click on that link and see for yourself!  You can even hear it run and it is smooth as butter.  And check the garage.  Sherman was always fascinated with Dana's garage.  He used to tell me "It is neat as a pin.  It is so nice you could take a date there.!"  Dana has worked very hard putting this bike back into running order and there is no way that this was done with anything but love. 
Over the last year or so I have had occasion to spend time with many of Sherman's friends.  They have all treated me with the same love they had for Sherman and I am touched beyond words by all of them.  So as I settle in for a night alone I leave you with this video made and posted by the man who built the Matchless, Dana Robbins, a wonderful man who shared Sherman's love of the British Motorcycles.  A heart felt thank you to Dana for a true labor of love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y57dnNtUk_Q&feature=youtu.be

I saw Cleo and we went for a nice walk with Steve.

The date was September 8 and the place was Pueblo.  The guy is a very good friend of Sherman's named Steve Vallejo.  He and I chanced to meet and since it was my first visit with Cleo since she had gone to her new home way up north, I wanted to take her for a nice walk along the levee like we used to do when Sherman was still with us.  Steve was kind enough to accompany us.  Cleo does not like to have her picture taken, but Steve was good at tricking her.

Me not so good!

And what in the world is that out there on that rock in the middle of the river?  We decided for argument's sake that it must be a heron.  Sure was not a goose or a duck.  The more I did to it in Picassa the worse it got.  It's neck got longer and it became more blurry.  Hell, it might have been a sea creature for all I know.

Steve and I walked almost up to Union and back.  It was a very nice walk.  Cool and a little light breeze.  I had not met Steve when Sherman was still with us, but I had heard his name many times and knew he was a good friend of his.  Sherman had many good friends and I never met most of them until just recently.  I know that is sort of like closing the barn door after the horse is gone, and I certainly regret not taking a more active role in that department, but isn't that how life goes?  When we are young we are invincible  and think we will live forever.  There is always tomorrow. 

Mother used to try to teach me the one about, "Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today."  Some how that was never very important to me. Something else mama used to tell me was "Let's see you get that toothpaste back in the tube!"

 This is one of those things I wish I had handled a little differently.  When he would say, so and so was coming by, I made myself scarce so he could visit with his friends.  Little did I know that he and his friends would have welcomed my presence. 

Mama was very wise.  And so to all of Sherman's friends that I have met since and the few I met before, and the one's who I have yet to meet, I would like to apologize and tell you that you were all very important to him and he bragged about every one of you to me.  I do understand after the fact that maybe he was a little proud of me also.  I will hold you all in my heart and I thank you all for the part you played in Sherman's life to make him into the man I came to care so much about in the twilight of our lives. 

                                         

And look, Steve!  I think she posed for me!  When Dana snapped the leash on her after the sale she looked at me and walked straight to his car as if to say "OK, time to go.  See you Lou.  It was nice, but I have to go home now."  Just like Sherman.  Everyone has gone home and the party is over.

It is time to move on.

 

 

*****************sponsors****************** 

Dickies - Men's Painter's Wea
r

September 8 and the British Motorcycle Association is buying and selling!

Ah, here I am safely on my side of the fence!  And on the other side is the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado holding the sale as per the terms laid out by the late, great Sherman Schroeder.  Dear Sherman worked many years and invested many dollars to accumulate a garage full of frames, motors, wheels and every part imaginable for a British Motorcyle.  The ad that ran stated very clearly that these parts were only for Truimph, Indian, Norton, Matchless and things like that.  Harley owners were out of luck completely.  Sherman and two of his friends started the club back in 1983 in Denver.  Now it is centralized in Colorado Springs.  As a true Brother of the Wheel, he remembered the club in his will by donating that whole side of the garage to them!

This little fellow is Mark Bosworth from St. Louis, Sherman's birthplace.  He and Sherman remained friends for over 30 years.  Like Mark said, " I was a snot nosed kid and I met this old guy with a garage full of really neat stuff and he let me hang out with him.  It was so cool!"  And the friendship survived all those years and it was Mark who stayed with Sherman on several occasions when he was not well.  Mark took him to radiation and cooked for him and held his hand as well as his head.  Truer friendship hath no man.  See the little fellow shooting back at me with his camera?  I ought to warm his little fanny for him!

And under this pile of tee shirts dating back to the beginning of the club is a "kit car" that Sherman was working on when I met him and is still not done.  He has three sets of everything he needs to finish it except the frame and the body.  3 motors, 3 sets of headlights, 3 carburetors, etc. (you get the picture!) 

So I got to tell you about the sale.  Until noon it was only open to the club members.  Now remember the club gets all the receipts.  So here is the scenario...the club members are buying the items and are jacking up thier prices to themselves because it all benefits them anyway.  Ever watch a bunch of bikers talking to themselves?  One of the fellows who shall remain nameless had 3 different colored markers in his pocket.  One color for the asking price, one color for the price he wanted to pay, and one color for the actual selling price.  I told him if he only had a yellow marker he could have drawn sunflowers on everything!

But it was a fun day and when it was over, we saw the floor in Sherman's garage for the first time since I met the man!  And we were all sure that Sheman was up there some where watching and smiling because every bit of anything that left that garage Saturday had at some point in time been held by him, paid for by him, and probably moved around the garage many times by him.  And we are secure in the knowledge that we are doing everything just the way he wanted it done.  Everything is going to a place where it will be cherished by the new owner and I know some of his parts will eventually make it to Bonneville, every BMAC members dream!

 

Namaste!

 

**********************************************************************

Your chance to buy my first novel!

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

It happened again!! Honest people!!

Yesterday was a hub of activity at the SWM's estate.  Bikers all over the place for the British Motorcyle Association of Colorado sale as per the terms of the will.  More about that tomorrow, but I have got to tell you this part first.  Remember when I left my purse in the shopping cart at Walmart just a couple weeks ago?  And remember how I got it back just like I left it?  Well, listen up.
This is a lady from St. Louis.  She went to our local Walgreen's right over there on 4th and Abriendo to buy pop and something else, I forget what.  Later in the day, she was going with Libby some where and she looked for her purse.  Then WE looked for her purse and very soon came the sinking realization that it was not in our vicinity. So she and dear hubby lept in the pickup and off to the local Walgreen.

You guessed it!  There it was.  Two ladies had found it in the parking lot in the cart and brought it and turned it in to the clerk who locked it up until someone came to claim it.  Now, I ask you, what does this say about our fair city?  I say it speaks volumes about the caliber of people that we never meet.  I know that sinking sensation when I reach for something and it is not there.  Can you imagine how this would feel to a woman a thousand miles from home?
Now granted a woman's purse is one of those items that has been known to strike fear in the heart of more than one man.  Like my late SWM.
"Do you have a pen?"
"Sure. Get one out of my purse!" 
Fear in the eyes.  "That purse?"
"Yeah."
"You mean open it up?"
"Yeah, just reach in there!"
"You mean with my hand?"
"Well, yeah, unless you have a better solution as to how to get it out."
"So, I have to open it up?"
"I thought we had established that."
"I have to touch it?"
I found it was much easier and a whole lot quicker to just pop it open and get the pen myself.  And yet I see movies where "purse snatchers" grab a purse right off a woman's shoulder and run away with it.  They apparently were raised in a different era than most of the men I know.  Or they are drug crazed maniacs.  Or they have never been in the wonderland of a woman's purse!  Where I came from no self respecting man would ever touch a woman's purse for any reason what so ever. 
Oh, dear, I see I have once more digressed from my message.  This old age is about to be more than I can keep up with.  Seems I spend half of my time getting something and the other half wondering where I put it after I got it.  No wonder I leave things in the shopping cart, but dear Liz, what is your reason?  LOL
So back to the honesty in parking lots.  Maybe it is just easier to be honest if no one is looking.  Or maybe I have just been a pessimist all along.  What ever, my hat is off to Jeffery at the south side Walmart and the two ladies at the Abriendo Walgreen.  I am proud to salute you, who ever you are!
******************************************************************************

 

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Saturday August 25, 2012

Sherman Joseph Schroeder, Jr

February 17, 1935

to

July 13, 2012

 

 

This past Saturday we all gathered at The Sangre de Cristo Hospice Center located at 300 West Abriendo (the former Abriendo Inn) to pay our final tribute to my dear friend Sherman.  Nephew Brent Schroeder came from Boulder, Doc from Ordway, several friends from Denver, Colorado Springs and some from here.  Sister Nancy stopped by for a moment.  It is very informal at the center and we just visited.  Libby Kyer summed up his life ( if a life can indeed be summed up in 15 minutes).  Jerry read a few emails.  We watched a photo DVD put together by Brent.  We ate a few sandwiches and finger desserts.  Drank a little tea and coffee and just visited about Sherman and how many lives he had touched over his 77 years.

 

I am still spending my time wondering if I was listening at all the past 2 1/2 years when he was talking.  I knew he had friends, I just had no idea how many,  how devoted his friends were, how they came from all areas and all walks of life.  I knew he helped start the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado, and that he collected Japanese swords, sword parts and books on the subject.  I knew he collected books on collecting.  I knew he had owned a contracting business in Denver and that he was an engineer, draftsman, and designer.  I knew he loved dogs and owned a champion Doberman named Dirk as well as three other very unique dogs in his life.  I knew he liked BMW's, Porche, and Corvette's and had owned them at one time or another.  I knew this and a lot of other stuff, but what I really knew was very little.

 

I knew he loved his Victorian home on the bluff, which will now be sold.  I know he liked to walk on the river, which I now do alone.  I know he liked to go out and eat on the spur of the moment.  I know he was interested in politics.  I know he was a carpenter, and he wanted to grow things.  I know he collected art work.  I know when he wondered about something he researched it until he could talk about it with authority. 

 

I know he had a kind heart.  When he went into University Park he told me to take all his groceries and all his clothes and whatever else could be useful to the migrant center east of town for Sister Nancy to do with as she chose.  And I did.  I know he cared about all God's creatures and as one of God' creatures, I know he cared about me.  I know he was my friend.  And I know I will miss him.  I still reach for the phone to call him and tell him some little thing I have done that would make him  proud.  I just need to find a way to continue what we started together, but without him.

 

The migrant center is still there.  The animal shelter is still there.  So I am toying with an idea.  I need to touch a few bases and then I think I will have a way to keep Sherman J. Schroeder, Jr. alive in my mind.  Stay tuned for updates.  Sherman chose me for a reason!



The BMAC arrives from Colorado Springs
 

Just some folks visiting.

Jerry Pokorny who headed up the bikers for this trip.

Ah, the dreaded one month anniversary.

July 13.  Friday the 13th.  I think Sherman picked that day because of his wry sense of humor.  But he was right, you know.  May have been a lucky day for him, but a very unlucky one for those of us left behind to cope with the loss.Those are lilacs on his hat.  I do not remember what we were discussing when I took this picture.  I am pretty sure it was while Jeff was here.  And I am pretty sure the Lilacs were in bloom.  And that is about all I am sure of at this point.  Oh, that and the fact that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I remember way far back when I was a kid, life was so simple.  There was no concept of what was to come.  I guess my first real taste of death was when my sister gave birth to a still born son.  The funeral was held in her front room with the tiny casket placed on the television after being carried in by the man who ran the funeral home, Jack Lamb.  I still remember the tiny face and the tiny pink hand holding the blue blanket closed.  Baby Boy Burch.  And the saddest part of the whole thing was that was just the beginning.
A friend from school and his brother in a fiery crash, aunts, uncles, in laws, out laws, brother, sister, cousins, husbands and ex husbands, friends and acquaintances, grandma's and grandpa's, clients, and the list goes on until I reach the point where I am now the Matriarch of the family and my friends are all younger than me.  No death is easy for me.  Each one touches a place deep in my soul that shall always remain raw and tender.
But I do now recognize the stages of grief; the denial, the anger, depression and finally acceptance.  I am still dealing with the first three and am sure I will finally get to number four.  And I know that there are anniversaries in life that we may not remember, but when I find myself sad for no good reason, I stop and think.  It usually comes to me.  "Oh, this is the day Mark died."  "This is the day my divorce was granted."  The happy anniversaries seem to roll by unnoticed, but the sad ones have a way of pushing to the front and calling "Pick me!  Pick me!"
And so it is today that I remember Sherman.  And to do that I must live in the past.  Just for a while anyway.  The Lilac's are gone and the hat lives in St. Louis.  And Sherman...well, in a perfect world...

www.loumercer3.com

Sherman Schroeder Memorial at South Side Johnny's.

Today was a wonderful day.  This morning I toodled off to Colorado Springs to attend the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado meeting.  Remember I told you that Sherman and two other guys started this back in 1983?  Today they paid homage to thier fallen leader.  First there was a memorial DVD put together by his nephew, Brent Schroeder of Boulder.  That was so very touching.

I took a photo album and the big picture that Carmen had put together for the farewell party.  she gave it to me so it is mine now.  (Thank you so much, new friend Carmen.)  In the photo album is a picture of Sherman in front of a cop car.  Validation for Dana when he said Sherman was the only member of the club to ever get a speeding ticket.  Seems Sherman liked to ding around at the back of the rides and watch the birds, squirrels, and clouds.  They would come to a pullout and wait for him to catch up, but this one time he was really late and they thought they should go look for him when he showed up with ticket in hand because he was hurrying to catch up.  Bad Sherman!!

Then Dana, Jerry and Todd had kind words to say.  I know bikers are supposed to be big and hairy and all that, but these guys apparently haven't recieved the memo yet as they were not all dry eyed.  And there were ladies there also.  I drank tea and it was paid for by a nice guy named Gary who sat at our table.  Wasn't that sweet?

See that bike?  (First I want to say my batteries were like blink city and I know better, but I forged ahead so I could show you these blurry pictures.)  Any way this thing was rescued from a shed and cleaned up, tuned up, fiddled with, sanded, painted, turboed, and God only knows what else and god only knows who all had thier hands inside her, but she is off to Bonneville Salt Flats and hopes to set a new speed record there.  John Stoner is the proud owner and the one who will be holding the handle bars when it shoots past the gun.  The whole club is so excited!  That is going to happen August 8-17 and I will keep you posted cause I am sure Dana and Jerry will keep me in the loop.  (?)

(Note to Amy...I wore the biker bitch sleeveless shirt you brought me from Daytona Beach.  I fit right in!  You would have been so proud!)

After Todd filled everyone in on all the happenings they left for a ride somewhere.  So rather than set there in the bar by myself I took my leave and went to see Pastor Faye.  We went to lunch at Country Buffet and she was telling me about the time she performed a marriage ceremony at the Sturgis Rally in South (?) Dakota and how upset the hierarchy got with her because she turned up on the national news.  Man I love that woman!

So I had a long day and now Kenna Rae, my step daughter is making me supper at her house.  Guess I will make it even longer.  I just want to thank the BMAC from the bottom of my heart for making me a part of their group for the day.  Bet Sherman saw that and smiled. 

*****************************************************************
Chapter One...Loose Ends by Lou Mercer can be bought here with the little paypal button.

Cleo finds a home!

This is Cleo.  I introduced her to you a few days ago and you she needed a good home.  Well, when the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado found out her plight, the president sent a letter to all the members.  This is a tight group of Lord only knows how many riders, but there was quick response.  By the next day it was apparent that she would have a home with one of the bikers, and today she trotted out with Todd Wallace and Dana Robbins and did not look back.  She is going North to live with Todd and his wife.  Dana was the point man in this and my job was to tell her goodbye and report back to Sherman.  Job accomplished!

Here comes the man wanting a new dog.  Right up the sidewalk to the front door and inside.

 Kind of got him in the shadows here and not smart enough to know how to remedy that.  And bringing up the rear is Dana, himself.

 Well, Cleo, are you ready to go with me?

So, for all of you who wondered, yes, Cleo has found a new home.  I will miss walking her, and I will miss her running to meet me, but I know she will be happy with Todd.  I think this is the first dog Sherman or I have had to give away.  Usually we get a dog and it is till death us do part.   But sometimes life gets topsy turvy.

I want to thank all the members of the BMAC for stepping up to the plate when it was called for to help one of their own.

Namaste!