CENTURY PAUL REVERE RIDE
Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan
At the capitol in Madison, Wisconsin, we procured rally and speaking permits. Within an hour of setting up our large banner, “Stop Illegal Aliens: Ask Us How”, one hundred counter-demonstrators screamed, beat drums, shouted, cursed and degraded us and our 1st Amendment rights for a third time in the week. One man stepped out of the marching madness with a magic marker—suddenly, he X’d Old Glory on our poster board. I stood aghast that an American citizen could desecrate our flag that so many had served and died for! I walked up and was about to grab him by his throat when he ran back into the safety of the crowd. Just then, a man waving a red, white and green Mexican flag brushed by me while sliding it across my face. He screamed at me. The police only stood there and watched. I raged inside myself that anyone in my country could wave a Mexican flag in front of a state capitol and desecrate the flag of my country. Seconds later, we said the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. The crowd screamed louder without stopping to honor the pledge. Cindy Songbird Tilkens, www.songbirdcindy.com , sang an incredible song she wrote, “Are You Lonely in a Small Town Tonight?” The crowd screamed louder to drown us out. Mind you, our permit gave us the right to proceed with a peaceful rally that spoke against illegal alien migration. Not legal immigration, but against ILLEGAL alien immigration which stands against our U.S. Constitution!
Rick shook his head, “They don’t speak English, wave a Mexican flag, desecrate our flag and spit at us while we recite the Pledge of Allegiance…this makes me sick to my heart.”
“It makes me sick to my stomach,” I said.
Later, my brother Howard, trail boss of the ride, raised the bullhorn while the Paul Revere Riders attempted to talk to our supporters. A counter-demonstrator walked up beating his drum while screaming so loudly, we couldn’t compete. Apparently, those who support illegal aliens breaking our federal laws do not support anyone’s 1st Amendment rights. For the umpteenth time, a reporter asked, “Are you racists?” I answered, “If you go home tonight to find a burglar broke into your home and was still there, and you called the cops to have him arrested…would you be a racist or would you be exercising your Constitutional rights?”
He wouldn’t answer. I asked, “If someone broke into your country against the laws of your land and you called the Border Patrol to have them arrested, would you be a racist for your actions?” He wouldn’t answer.
“Sir, this is about the rule of law,” I said. “We’re either a lawful nation or lawless one…we either uphold our rights under the Constitution or we abdicate to anarchy…I don’t have time for racism…this is about our country…I work with black activists Terry Anderson, Ezola Foster, Marvin Stuart, Ted Hayes, American Hispanics Robert Vasquez, Lupe Moreno, Andy Ramirez and minority advocates such as the brilliant journalist Miss Michelle Malkin who wrote “INVASION”...how do you call them racists? How can you call 85 percent of Americans who demand our immigration laws be upheld—racists?” He wouldn’t answer. I’ve found that when someone can’t bring a reasoned argument to the debate, they resort to name calling. However, you cannot argue with integrity. The Paul Revere Riders ride with ‘integrity’.
The next day, we battled gridlock traffic on our way to Chicago’s Mexican consulate. It’s one of 56 embedded in our major cities to aid illegal aliens in our country to continue breaking our laws with impunity. Anyone been in the Windy City’s traffic? In a word: insane! I was born in Chicago, but it’s crammed into less space with more people and no one in that gridlock smiles even once in their lives. We witnessed such crowding that half million dollar homes back up to the expressway. Chicago houses the second largest illegal alien population in America. Its crime, schools, jails, failing hospitals, drug trafficking and corruption reflect its sanctuary policy that allows illegals free reign in that city.
Whoa! Talk about a screaming horde of pro illegal alien crazy maniacs at the Mexican assembly. If they lived in LA with car-jackings, street crime, diseases, with their kids being attacked at schools and couldn’t be understood because no one speaks English, they would scream another tune. What they fail to understand is, when the Mexicans degrade our laws to their brand of lawlessness, we all suffer. As we import more from the poverty stricken countries, we grow pockets of poverty that become ghettoes cities. Mexico’s Fox will continue exporting millions of his slums to become the poor of our country. In the process, we create an entrenched poor class and balkanization of our nation.
Great thanks to the people of Chicago that stood their ground and marched in favor of enforcing our laws. They carried signs and matched the illegal alien advocates with equal passion. As I said to the crowd, “There are 280 million of us and only 20 million of them…besides, we vote so we win!”
As I said, we create balkanization by adding illegals. What is balkanization you ask? Last week, my dear friend, a former Green Bay Packer and today, a top notch cowboy, Zeb Bell in Murtaugh, Idaho, called me, “Frosty, I need to tell you about a rodeo I hosted last week…while we played the national anthem…15 Mexicans stayed seated and booed the singing of our national anthem…quickly, 20 Idaho cowboys surrounded the Mexicans…one Mexican pulled a knife…another cowboy stepped up saying, “Beaner, you better put that knife away or I’m going to shove it where the sun don’t shine…you better show respect for my country’s flag or you beaners ain’t gonna’ walk out of here on your own two legs.”
The Mexican looked at his buddies who were outnumbered, decided it wasn’t worth having his knife shoved up his rear end, and sat down. But the lesson is, when the rate of immigration exceeds the rate of assimilation, it’s a recipe for the disintegration of our society. In a recent soccer match in Los Angeles, Mexicans in America booed the American team, threw bottles and cheered against our team. Thousands of cars in LA carry a bumper sticker that reads, “F*** YOU! This is Mexico!” In March, over 1,500,000 illegal aliens around our country marched in defiance of our laws and their numbers grow nightly. When you hear, “Press 1 for English; Press 2 for Spanish,” that’s balkanization of our country. When you lose your language, you lose your country. Nothing will fracture this country faster than competing languages. Given enough time, we’ll either be at each other’s throats or we’ll separate into antagonistic factions.
It took us 30 miles to get out of Chicago. Steel, glass, concrete, asphalt! Nature suffered extinction from so much city! We rode through south side Chicago with poverty peeking out of every block. Makes you wonder why President Bush won’t rebuild our country instead of the $300 billion invested in Iraq that will never do anything for our citizens. Once we leave, they’ll rage into civil war until a new Saddam rises from the ashes.
At Springfield, Illinois, we stood under the domed capitol with a statue President Abe Lincoln greeting visitors. I’m positive Honest Abe would be ashamed of Bush II for destroying everything that Lincoln worked to preserve. Again, unlike the maniacs in Chicago, only TV interviewers greeted us.
We stopped at Marseilles, Illinois, where the Illinois Motorcycle Freedom Run built the Middle East Conflicts Wall Memorial. Every man and woman that died in Iraq, Lebanon and Afghanistan has his or her name engraved on that wall. I lost my college roommate during Vietnam. At the Wall in DC, I weep every time I visit my roommate’s name and an unlived life, and I still cry. As I approached this new wall of our new dead youth, I became sickened at the travesty of old men in the Halls of Congress sacrificing our finest in foreign wars based on lies. Bush’s weapons of mass destruction are no different that Lyndon Baines Johnson’s Gulf of Tonkin scam. Lies, lies and more lies! Americans are tired of giving up their kids and being lied to by our leaders. On the ground of this new wall, tan combat boots offered a picture of Tricia L. Jameson with a cross. Another pair presented a picture of Josh Adam Terando, 1978 to 2005. Laura A. Piper gave her life in uniform. Lincoln Hollinsaid, 1975 to 2003, served with honor. I turned around with tears in my eyes and walked back to my motorcycle.
Hours and miles down the road, I soberly witnessed the beauty of Illinois. Plain folks, small towns, corn and hay fields, forests and lakes soothe my soul. Ken and Linda took us into their home on a lake with hummingbirds flying around the deck. The sunset dazzled us as we sat watching the sun go down. I was alone with my thoughts.
As I ride my bike down the highway, I can’t help feeling deep chagrin that we’ve encountered mostly apathy in our national ride. Millions wave to us, but few participate. With massive advertising to immigration groups, bike clubs, bike shops, and many friends combing the Internet like Carol Zimmerman, Carol Haldek and dozens of others, our biggest rally was in Salem, Oregon with 400 people. Mostly, we hosted zero to 50. Are the people of this country THAT disinterested in their children’s future? Are we going the way of Rome, France, Great Britain and Holland? These thoughts dwell on my mind along the miles.
We expected several thousand bikes to accompany us in Washington, DC, but not one bike club or motorcyclist has committed to being there with us. The “Rolling Thunder” organization brings in 200,000 bikes annually to DC, but it looks like few show interest in preserving our nation from this illegal alien invasion. No one has offered to ride a horse in a Paul Revere costume on our last day on August 12th.
As we headed toward Lansing, Michigan, I reveled in the tall trees, lakes and ponds along the highway. Michigan’s deep, green woods penetrate one’s heart with such spiritual calmness. At the capitol, we enjoyed a small rally with a few supporters.
Later, I visited my alma mater, Michigan State University. I rode up to my dorm at East Holden Hall where I was a Resident Assistant for three years. I visited my ‘youth’ at my old room. I looked into the same mirror that I had looked into as a 19 year old. My! How 36 years and a lifetime later change one’s face!
Heading south into Indiana, the Paul Revere team throttled into the wind. We felt encouraged, because, even without large, supportive crowds, we have interviewed on 70 TV shows, 60 newspapers and 40 radio shows. Our traveling Burma-Shave commercial has reached perhaps a million drivers. On our support truck, it asks in big letters, “How Many People Are Enough?” We’ve reached 20 million people with our message. We keep adding thousands of citizens to www.numbersusa.com and help Americans take action with our 11 point action letter that we hand out. They can send it electronically from the www.21stCenturyPaulRevereRide.us web site.
One evening, I cruised down a country road with tall grasses lining the asphalt. I passed several farm houses. Two kids playing catch in their yard waved to me. Gold light from the setting sun sprayed across voluminous thunderheads boiling into the sky. My engine purred and the temperature cooled my skin. Ahead, on both sides of the road, thousands of fireflies blinked on and off in the deep grass. I felt like I was traveling a Magic Kingdom ride at Disneyland. This life is a wondrous adventure and it’s the little things that make the magic. Good night and God’s speed.
invited to support www.21stcenturypaulrevereride.us
with an order on line for our T-shirt. It is a neat personal statement
and supports the ride. You will be excited to wear it. For those who
want to donate, write checks out to “21st Century Paul Revere Ride”
c/o Wooldridge, POB 207, Louisville, CO 80027. Everyone who rides
a bike, tell your friends to ride with us in Washington, DC on Saturday,
August 12, 2006. We expect 100,000 bikes to make a statement. We’ll
circle the Capitol Building and park in the Pentagon parking lot for
speeches. Every bike club on the East Coast is invited. Every bike
shop is invited to tell customers about the final episode of the Paul
Revere Ride. Please contact Howard Wooldridge, phone 817-975-1110
or write him at Wooldridge@leap.cc
to give him an exact number of bikers you intend to present at the
final rally in DC. This is a great moment in history you can tell
your kids about. Let’s make it the “Woodstock” of motorcycle events
of the 21st century. Finally, we expect to feature Paul Revere riding
his horse with a period costume to lead the riders on the last day.
For anyone with a horse and anyone who can sew a Paul Revere period
costume, please contact Howard.
Frosty Wooldridge, teacher, author and journalist bicycled 100,000 miles across six continents and six times across the United States to witness environmental impact on humanity around the planet.
His latest book. ‘IMMIGRATION’S UNARMED INVASION—DEADLY CONSEQUENCES.’
I stood aghast that an American citizen could desecrate our flag that so many had served and died for! I walked up and was about to grab him by his throat when he ran back into the safety of the crowd. Just then, a man waving a red, white and green Mexican flag brushed by me while sliding it across my face. He screamed at me. The police only stood there and watched.