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White
orchids for a fallen Angel's grave
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Harvey
Tate often sits alone at the kitchen table, smoking his pipe and
listening to Western novels on an audio tape machine. As much as
he likes his tobacco and his cowboy books, though, he sometimes
pushes both aside and heads out back to the garden. Sidestepping
the cat, Harvey moves quickly into a world of natural splendor that
has never let him down. People
pose problems -- always have and always will. But
the orchids Harvey raises are different. Orchids
live and breathe and burst onto the scene with a presence mighty
enough to elicit wonder from some of the toughest among us. Orchids
have the power to reveal the soft side of rough men who might never
otherwise notice that the lip-shaped petals of an orchid resemble
a kiss. At
77, Harvey is an old-fashioned man with a strong handshake and an
iron constitution. Kick-starting his first Harley in '44, his failing
eyesight only recently retired the long ride that taught him as
much about the open road as it taught him about himself. Tough
as he was in his prime, though, orchids were tougher. Orchids
helped Harvey grow. Son
Steve, 50, shares his dad's love of bikes and the freedom that comes
with a flat-out run to nowhere. Taking as well to the flower of
his father's strong spirit, he, too, saw the light in waxy petals
so perfect that they sometimes look unreal. So
did Christian, who spent several teenage summers more than a decade
ago helping his father and grandfather transplant orchids in the
sweet Santa Maria soil that bonded three generations to the good
earth they shared. The
planting process took time and guidance. Christian
tapped the pots gently with a hammer and tugged on the stems. With
grandpa by his side, he separated and cut the roots. With dad watching
nearby, Christian added bark and potting soil. And,
when it was over, they ate salsa made from a recipe Christian brought
home one day as a kid and took pride in fixing as a man. These
Tates loved each other as much as any family could. None
of them expected those beautiful orchids to wind up on Christian's
coffin last May when hundreds of mourners came to his hometown from
all over the world to bury a brother. The
sight of so many self-restrained Hells Angels dropping fresh white
orchids into the 28-year-old's fresh grave offered mute testimony
to the respect they held for their righteous, fallen friend. If
only for a few moments, the peaceful power of a flower indeed surpassed
the violence of a world gone wild. Hard
men had ridden into town to say good-bye to a once calming presence
in a volatile pack -- an honorably discharged Coast Guard veteran,
husband and new daddy who died in an ambush that left him shot in
the back as he headed home on a barren stretch of Interstate 40
in San Bernardino County. One
year later, police say the case remains open. Christian's
family also search daily for answers. Looking
for the meaning of life and death amid the lost flowers of last
year's spring is painful. The fear is that no other bud will rise
as tender as the brightest bud of yesteryear. But
new life blossoms on any tended trellis that reaches, stretches
and wanders in an endless run to the sun. Today,
the first anniversary of his son's death, Steve Tate plans to take
the white orchids of a happy home to the cemetery, where the wind
whispers through tree boughs and offers comfort to the living. Those
who mourn Christian's passing have endured a brutal 12 months. Rumors, inaccurate national magazine articles, raw emotions and other pressures have turned a private loss into a public spectacle. Through
it all, Harvey, Steve and the rest of the family have come to depend
on each other more than ever. Flowers
help freshen those bittersweet mysteries of life because love lies
in the bloom. "You'd
be amazed at how many friends you can make with a flower,"
Harvey said recently. Even
in death, with grandpa's words to live by, Christian's influence
carries on. Among
those who miss his touch is a beautiful baby girl named Lily. One day she, too, will learn something nice about life from the orchids. |
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