In the photo above are (from the left) O.R, Rod, and Ben.
The loss of my brother was devastating, to say the least. I wish that I would have had the strength to write this, and the courage to read it, at his funeral as we piped him on his way to where ever it is old bikers go when old bikers go. The last line pretty much says where I think he's gone. It still hurts, and I expect at some level, it always will. There is no one alive who would doubt that O.R. was a fine, straight-shooting, honest man. May God bless and keep him and guard his family as he would have himself.
May his Harley run forever
and carry his children into a life of wonder, brightness, and happiness for all
of the days of their lives.
——
Rod Foley 04/06/2001
A Brother Down
In Memory Of Owen Richard Haines II
June 7th 1946--April 3rd, 2001
"Time heals all wounds," cried the bard from his grave,
but he never foresaw what has happened today.
"You will get over it" was the cry of another, but honestly
Lord, they had never met this brother.
From the sole of his shoes to the peak of his cover, stood
a man so unique, he was like no other.
He was my brother, we were joined at our soul, but to so
many others his loss was a toll.
A toll so great that it set such a price, it's payment
unthinkable, what cost such a life?
The man was a brother, a father and friend, husband and
and lover and true to the end.
It's truly unusual the depth of this man, the lives that
he reached out and touched as a friend.
To his wife and his lover the sun and the moon, impossible
to think it can be over this soon.
To his children a white knight upon his white steed, whose
loss is so painful it makes their hearts bleed.
To his mother the soldier that held her esteem, the son
that embodied her lost husband's dream.
To his friends just unthinkable, no, this cannot be true,
the loss of a man for which nothing would do,
But to offer him self for what ever need that they held
his love and his friendship to them he would meld.
And selfish I know because I believe, that the loss that
I suffer is greater than these.
For I loved him more than a meter can measure, a scale
could weigh or a whole ship could carry.
But now O.R. walks in wheat fields and barley, and by
this time tomorrow, will have tuned the Lord's Harley.
