SouthBayHusker
Banned
A horse, a hearse and a sense of duty
6:31 PM PST, January 28 2009
Single Page « Back | 1 | 2
Melgosa tries to keep her burials to locations within 350 miles of home. "I wish I could do them all, but I'm not independently wealthy," she said.
Sometimes she breaks her rule. She trekked 450 miles to Roswell, N.M., for an Army sergeant who died pulling troops from burning Humvees in Iraq. She drove 380 miles to Bayard, Neb., to help bury Army Capt. Scott Shimp, 28, who died in a helicopter crash in Alabama shortly after returning from Iraq.
Photos: Fitting tribute for...In October, Robles' death brought Melgosa back to the wind-swept farming towns of northwestern Nebraska. He was killed when his Humvee struck a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.
Robles, family members said, was a boisterous but methodical young man determined to join the military after listening to his grandfather's stories of fighting in World War II. On his 18th birthday, he came home from high school and announced he was enlisting. He reveled in helping others and had the words "Your Freedom, My Life, Without Complaint" tattooed on his left arm.
Melgosa knew none of this -- all she had was a name and hometown from the sketchy Marine Corps public announcement. She made contact with the corporal's casualty officer and offered her services.
On Halloween, she coaxed her horse, Lady, into the 15,000-pound trailer her son built to carry the animal and funeral rig, popped a Peter, Paul and Mary cassette into her tape deck and drove north.
When Melgosa arrived in Bayard, the tiny Nebraska town where she would spend the night, she had plenty of people to visit. She is that sort of person. She dropped Lady off at a farm whose owner she knew, stopped in to see distant relatives and went to have hamburgers at the Shimp house, a rare opportunity to visit the family whose son she had helped bury.
The next morning, Melgosa rose before dawn to scrub Lady. It was just above freezing, but the weather could have been worse. In the past, Melgosa has had to don several layers of long underwear to get her through some winter burials.
The day warmed up by the time Melgosa met the funeral procession in Scottsbluff five hours later. She didn't hear the service, held at a church several miles away. Nor did she see the town's main street lined with about 1,000 people holding American flags distributed by the City Council. She waited at a parking lot about a quarter of a mile fromthe cemetery. She would take over the casket there.
The sun seeped through the high clouds as Melgosa tearfully helped Robles' parents onto the carriage. As she led the crowd into the graveyard, people quietly sang "God Bless America."
Once a casket is removed from her coach, Melgosa tries to stay out of the way -- her motto is "blend in and don't be a nuisance." On this day, she stood far back from the burial site, holding Lady's reins tightly when the Marine honor guard fired a 21-gun salute. A bugler played taps.
As the crowd began to disperse, the Robleses stayed under the burial tent receiving well-wishers. They asked Melgosa to come over. Sobbing, Cesar and Yolanda Robles shook her hands and kept repeating the words "thank you."
Melgosa returned to Lady and stood silently. A couple of children shyly approached the horse.
"Go ahead," Melgosa told them. "You can touch her."
Soon a gathering had formed around the horse. Young parents held up their babies, who stared at Lady with awe. Melgosa lifted toddlers to stroke her neck. Children posed for photos as the sun burned through the clouds.
Melgosa took in the scene at the grave site, volunteers encircling the cemetery with American flags and excited children gathered around her horse.
"I'll remember this day for a long time," she said.
"How," she asked, "could you not do this?"
nicholas.riccardi@latimes.com
A horse, a hearse and a sense of duty
6:31 PM PST, January 28 2009
Single Page « Back | 1 | 2
Melgosa tries to keep her burials to locations within 350 miles of home. "I wish I could do them all, but I'm not independently wealthy," she said.
Sometimes she breaks her rule. She trekked 450 miles to Roswell, N.M., for an Army sergeant who died pulling troops from burning Humvees in Iraq. She drove 380 miles to Bayard, Neb., to help bury Army Capt. Scott Shimp, 28, who died in a helicopter crash in Alabama shortly after returning from Iraq.
Photos: Fitting tribute for...In October, Robles' death brought Melgosa back to the wind-swept farming towns of northwestern Nebraska. He was killed when his Humvee struck a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.
Robles, family members said, was a boisterous but methodical young man determined to join the military after listening to his grandfather's stories of fighting in World War II. On his 18th birthday, he came home from high school and announced he was enlisting. He reveled in helping others and had the words "Your Freedom, My Life, Without Complaint" tattooed on his left arm.
Melgosa knew none of this -- all she had was a name and hometown from the sketchy Marine Corps public announcement. She made contact with the corporal's casualty officer and offered her services.
On Halloween, she coaxed her horse, Lady, into the 15,000-pound trailer her son built to carry the animal and funeral rig, popped a Peter, Paul and Mary cassette into her tape deck and drove north.
When Melgosa arrived in Bayard, the tiny Nebraska town where she would spend the night, she had plenty of people to visit. She is that sort of person. She dropped Lady off at a farm whose owner she knew, stopped in to see distant relatives and went to have hamburgers at the Shimp house, a rare opportunity to visit the family whose son she had helped bury.
The next morning, Melgosa rose before dawn to scrub Lady. It was just above freezing, but the weather could have been worse. In the past, Melgosa has had to don several layers of long underwear to get her through some winter burials.
The day warmed up by the time Melgosa met the funeral procession in Scottsbluff five hours later. She didn't hear the service, held at a church several miles away. Nor did she see the town's main street lined with about 1,000 people holding American flags distributed by the City Council. She waited at a parking lot about a quarter of a mile fromthe cemetery. She would take over the casket there.
The sun seeped through the high clouds as Melgosa tearfully helped Robles' parents onto the carriage. As she led the crowd into the graveyard, people quietly sang "God Bless America."
Once a casket is removed from her coach, Melgosa tries to stay out of the way -- her motto is "blend in and don't be a nuisance." On this day, she stood far back from the burial site, holding Lady's reins tightly when the Marine honor guard fired a 21-gun salute. A bugler played taps.
As the crowd began to disperse, the Robleses stayed under the burial tent receiving well-wishers. They asked Melgosa to come over. Sobbing, Cesar and Yolanda Robles shook her hands and kept repeating the words "thank you."
Melgosa returned to Lady and stood silently. A couple of children shyly approached the horse.
"Go ahead," Melgosa told them. "You can touch her."
Soon a gathering had formed around the horse. Young parents held up their babies, who stared at Lady with awe. Melgosa lifted toddlers to stroke her neck. Children posed for photos as the sun burned through the clouds.
Melgosa took in the scene at the grave site, volunteers encircling the cemetery with American flags and excited children gathered around her horse.
"I'll remember this day for a long time," she said.
"How," she asked, "could you not do this?"
nicholas.riccardi@latimes.com
6:31 PM PST, January 28 2009
Single Page « Back | 1 | 2
Melgosa tries to keep her burials to locations within 350 miles of home. "I wish I could do them all, but I'm not independently wealthy," she said.
Sometimes she breaks her rule. She trekked 450 miles to Roswell, N.M., for an Army sergeant who died pulling troops from burning Humvees in Iraq. She drove 380 miles to Bayard, Neb., to help bury Army Capt. Scott Shimp, 28, who died in a helicopter crash in Alabama shortly after returning from Iraq.
Photos: Fitting tribute for...In October, Robles' death brought Melgosa back to the wind-swept farming towns of northwestern Nebraska. He was killed when his Humvee struck a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.
Robles, family members said, was a boisterous but methodical young man determined to join the military after listening to his grandfather's stories of fighting in World War II. On his 18th birthday, he came home from high school and announced he was enlisting. He reveled in helping others and had the words "Your Freedom, My Life, Without Complaint" tattooed on his left arm.
Melgosa knew none of this -- all she had was a name and hometown from the sketchy Marine Corps public announcement. She made contact with the corporal's casualty officer and offered her services.
On Halloween, she coaxed her horse, Lady, into the 15,000-pound trailer her son built to carry the animal and funeral rig, popped a Peter, Paul and Mary cassette into her tape deck and drove north.
When Melgosa arrived in Bayard, the tiny Nebraska town where she would spend the night, she had plenty of people to visit. She is that sort of person. She dropped Lady off at a farm whose owner she knew, stopped in to see distant relatives and went to have hamburgers at the Shimp house, a rare opportunity to visit the family whose son she had helped bury.
The next morning, Melgosa rose before dawn to scrub Lady. It was just above freezing, but the weather could have been worse. In the past, Melgosa has had to don several layers of long underwear to get her through some winter burials.
The day warmed up by the time Melgosa met the funeral procession in Scottsbluff five hours later. She didn't hear the service, held at a church several miles away. Nor did she see the town's main street lined with about 1,000 people holding American flags distributed by the City Council. She waited at a parking lot about a quarter of a mile fromthe cemetery. She would take over the casket there.
The sun seeped through the high clouds as Melgosa tearfully helped Robles' parents onto the carriage. As she led the crowd into the graveyard, people quietly sang "God Bless America."
Once a casket is removed from her coach, Melgosa tries to stay out of the way -- her motto is "blend in and don't be a nuisance." On this day, she stood far back from the burial site, holding Lady's reins tightly when the Marine honor guard fired a 21-gun salute. A bugler played taps.
As the crowd began to disperse, the Robleses stayed under the burial tent receiving well-wishers. They asked Melgosa to come over. Sobbing, Cesar and Yolanda Robles shook her hands and kept repeating the words "thank you."
Melgosa returned to Lady and stood silently. A couple of children shyly approached the horse.
"Go ahead," Melgosa told them. "You can touch her."
Soon a gathering had formed around the horse. Young parents held up their babies, who stared at Lady with awe. Melgosa lifted toddlers to stroke her neck. Children posed for photos as the sun burned through the clouds.
Melgosa took in the scene at the grave site, volunteers encircling the cemetery with American flags and excited children gathered around her horse.
"I'll remember this day for a long time," she said.
"How," she asked, "could you not do this?"
nicholas.riccardi@latimes.com
A horse, a hearse and a sense of duty
6:31 PM PST, January 28 2009
Single Page « Back | 1 | 2
Melgosa tries to keep her burials to locations within 350 miles of home. "I wish I could do them all, but I'm not independently wealthy," she said.
Sometimes she breaks her rule. She trekked 450 miles to Roswell, N.M., for an Army sergeant who died pulling troops from burning Humvees in Iraq. She drove 380 miles to Bayard, Neb., to help bury Army Capt. Scott Shimp, 28, who died in a helicopter crash in Alabama shortly after returning from Iraq.
Photos: Fitting tribute for...In October, Robles' death brought Melgosa back to the wind-swept farming towns of northwestern Nebraska. He was killed when his Humvee struck a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.
Robles, family members said, was a boisterous but methodical young man determined to join the military after listening to his grandfather's stories of fighting in World War II. On his 18th birthday, he came home from high school and announced he was enlisting. He reveled in helping others and had the words "Your Freedom, My Life, Without Complaint" tattooed on his left arm.
Melgosa knew none of this -- all she had was a name and hometown from the sketchy Marine Corps public announcement. She made contact with the corporal's casualty officer and offered her services.
On Halloween, she coaxed her horse, Lady, into the 15,000-pound trailer her son built to carry the animal and funeral rig, popped a Peter, Paul and Mary cassette into her tape deck and drove north.
When Melgosa arrived in Bayard, the tiny Nebraska town where she would spend the night, she had plenty of people to visit. She is that sort of person. She dropped Lady off at a farm whose owner she knew, stopped in to see distant relatives and went to have hamburgers at the Shimp house, a rare opportunity to visit the family whose son she had helped bury.
The next morning, Melgosa rose before dawn to scrub Lady. It was just above freezing, but the weather could have been worse. In the past, Melgosa has had to don several layers of long underwear to get her through some winter burials.
The day warmed up by the time Melgosa met the funeral procession in Scottsbluff five hours later. She didn't hear the service, held at a church several miles away. Nor did she see the town's main street lined with about 1,000 people holding American flags distributed by the City Council. She waited at a parking lot about a quarter of a mile fromthe cemetery. She would take over the casket there.
The sun seeped through the high clouds as Melgosa tearfully helped Robles' parents onto the carriage. As she led the crowd into the graveyard, people quietly sang "God Bless America."
Once a casket is removed from her coach, Melgosa tries to stay out of the way -- her motto is "blend in and don't be a nuisance." On this day, she stood far back from the burial site, holding Lady's reins tightly when the Marine honor guard fired a 21-gun salute. A bugler played taps.
As the crowd began to disperse, the Robleses stayed under the burial tent receiving well-wishers. They asked Melgosa to come over. Sobbing, Cesar and Yolanda Robles shook her hands and kept repeating the words "thank you."
Melgosa returned to Lady and stood silently. A couple of children shyly approached the horse.
"Go ahead," Melgosa told them. "You can touch her."
Soon a gathering had formed around the horse. Young parents held up their babies, who stared at Lady with awe. Melgosa lifted toddlers to stroke her neck. Children posed for photos as the sun burned through the clouds.
Melgosa took in the scene at the grave site, volunteers encircling the cemetery with American flags and excited children gathered around her horse.
"I'll remember this day for a long time," she said.
"How," she asked, "could you not do this?"
nicholas.riccardi@latimes.com
