thedrifter
02-24-08, 08:50 AM
Mother establishing moving memorial for Marine son, others
Sunday, February 24, 2008
By Steve Levin, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
FAIRMONT, W.Va. -- R.J. was her only son, the baby, the one who liked guns and hunting and fast cars, the boy who wanted to be a Marine from the first time he put on camo fatigues as a preschooler.
He joined the Marines at age 17 and served a tour in Iraq. Sgt. R.J. Jimenez was in the midst of his second tour when he was killed Nov. 10, 2004, during the U.S. assault on Fallujah.
More than three years later, his mother, Alesia Swartz, of Bruceton Mills, W.Va., is still living the loss. Part of her family room is a shrine, featuring a military trunk filled with a U.S. flag, memorabilia from Iraq and R.J.'s picture surrounded by citations, ribbons and photos of his Marine buddies.
Her son's most precious possession, however, his 1992 Ford Mustang GT, sits an hour away in Fairmont.
It's that car, which R.J. bought after his first tour of duty and called his "baby," that Ms. Swartz ultimately decided would make the perfect memorial for her son.
Now in a restoration garage run by an Air Force veteran whose own son served as a Marine in Iraq, and with the help of other military vets, R.J.'s Mustang is being transformed into a unique mobile Marine monument. It is a memorial not only to him but also to 12 other Marines from B Company, 1st Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment who died in Fallujah during Operation Phantom Fury during an 18-day period in late 2004.
The story of the car's restoration goes beyond the stitched Digital Desert Camo material for the interior, the wheels replicated from a 2007 Mustang Shelby GT, the Marine "earth, globe, anchor" insignia as wheel caps and even the "Semper Fi" decals along each side.
Sgt. Jimenez's likeness has been airbrushed onto the car's hood, and photos of the other 12 Marines -- six to a side -- have been placed on the rear quarter windows.
It's a project, garage owner Wade Linger believes, that's "over the top," but one he took on "for the honor to do it."
It's a reminder, said Ms. Swartz, to "never forget what the cost of freedom is."
It's also a portrait of the depth of military brotherhood, of how emotions drive intellect and of a mother's love for her son.
A second-hand Mustang GT from 1988-1993 is usually worth no more than $6,000. They're a favorite of young guys with little money who want a hot rod.
R.J. paid cash for his in October 2003 after his first tour in Iraq. He painted the green Mustang what he called "California orange," moved the battery to the trunk so the added weight would increase its quickness and took out the console. When he and his Marine buddies came to visit, they'd race the five-speed up and down back roads and on nearby Interstate 68. His plan was to buy a truck after he finished his second tour, and then restore the Mustang.
R.J. was 5 feet, 9 inches tall and weighed only 130 pounds. Tattoos of flames covered his wrists and belly. He didn't talk much but he was tough.
Once on a four-mile hump in boot camp with 100-pound packs, a friend got sick and couldn't continue. R.J. carried both packs the rest of the way. Patient and stealthy, he could track deer through deep forests. Once, after a successful hunt with other Marines, they dressed the deer and brought it back to base at Camp Lejeune, N.C., for a cookout.
When he last spoke to his mother a week before his death, he reminded her to send the latest issue of his Mustang magazine subscription, along with cigarettes, socks, gum, candy and powdered drink mix.
In the weeks and months after his death, Ms. Swartz wrestled with the best tribute for her son. She knew it had to involve his car and the Marines.
At a parade she saw a car with a large photograph pasted on its hood. And that's when the idea hit her: She'd make her son's car a Marine memorial.
Her friends weren't enthusiastic. "Everybody was like, 'He'd kill you for doing that,' " she said.
It remained just an idea until last fall, when a neighbor happened to hand her a newspaper ad for Wade's Garage in Fairmont. She looked at the Web site, visited the garage with R.J.'s stepfather and invited owner Wade Linger to come see the Mustang.
He did, and from the photos he took, an artist drew some computer-enhanced images of what R.J.'s car might look like. When she asked if her son's photograph could be on the hood, the garage owner's first reaction was to talk her out of it.
He quickly understood, however, that the story being told was hers to tell, not his. And he decided to become the narrator.
His love of cars extended back to his own childhood -- during high school he took a 1956 Volkswagen and stuffed a big engine in it, "scaring my parents to death" -- and during his eight-year Air Force career he had built a kit car.
He was a software consultant for defense contractors before starting his own business in 1996. Nine years later it had 80 employees and $11 million in annual revenues. He sold it, bought 23 acres along I-79 and built Wade's, a 10,000-square-foot garage "allowing me to take my hobby and put it on steroids."
His four-man garage has restored plenty of cars -- a '57 Chevrolet Nomad station wagon is one of his favorites -- but Ms. Swartz's proposal was different. It was taking a low-end car and "turning it into a piece of jewelry."
But as the father of a Marine who served in Iraq and returned home, he knew how lucky he was: That could have been his son who didn't come back. His son owns a '92 Mustang GT, too.
A paint store used a digital camera to match the car's "California orange" paint. The dashboard is being redone to such detail that the backgrounds of the custom gauge clusters match the camo interior. The engine has been overhauled.
Airbrush artist Brian Banker, a Navy vet in nearby Stonewood, started the difficult process of painting R.J.'s likeness on the hood weeks ago. It required him to start with a black background, paint a white layer and then project on it an image of R.J. The one chosen was the traditional photo in Marine dress blues.
R.J.'s face required 35 layers of hand-mixed paints. The uniform's buttons are in gold leaf. The "blood stripes" and ribbons are in exquisite detail.
"It's a patriotic thing," the artist said. "When I do something with a military theme I always seem to go a little further."
Ms. Swartz's original $25,000 budget has long since been exhausted. The garage is donating an additional $20,000. The process is still several weeks from completion, but the car, if such a things is possible, already has been imbued with its soul: R.J.'s painted likeness and the photos of his friends. When finished, it's likely to become a featured staple in veterans' and memorial parades around the country.
"I guess it just depends on what means something to you," Ms. Swartz said. "Something that's sentimental to you might not mean anything to someone else.
"Everybody has a different value for different things."
Steve Levin can be reached at slevin@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1919.
First published on February 24, 2008 at 12:00 am
Ellie
Sunday, February 24, 2008
By Steve Levin, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
FAIRMONT, W.Va. -- R.J. was her only son, the baby, the one who liked guns and hunting and fast cars, the boy who wanted to be a Marine from the first time he put on camo fatigues as a preschooler.
He joined the Marines at age 17 and served a tour in Iraq. Sgt. R.J. Jimenez was in the midst of his second tour when he was killed Nov. 10, 2004, during the U.S. assault on Fallujah.
More than three years later, his mother, Alesia Swartz, of Bruceton Mills, W.Va., is still living the loss. Part of her family room is a shrine, featuring a military trunk filled with a U.S. flag, memorabilia from Iraq and R.J.'s picture surrounded by citations, ribbons and photos of his Marine buddies.
Her son's most precious possession, however, his 1992 Ford Mustang GT, sits an hour away in Fairmont.
It's that car, which R.J. bought after his first tour of duty and called his "baby," that Ms. Swartz ultimately decided would make the perfect memorial for her son.
Now in a restoration garage run by an Air Force veteran whose own son served as a Marine in Iraq, and with the help of other military vets, R.J.'s Mustang is being transformed into a unique mobile Marine monument. It is a memorial not only to him but also to 12 other Marines from B Company, 1st Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment who died in Fallujah during Operation Phantom Fury during an 18-day period in late 2004.
The story of the car's restoration goes beyond the stitched Digital Desert Camo material for the interior, the wheels replicated from a 2007 Mustang Shelby GT, the Marine "earth, globe, anchor" insignia as wheel caps and even the "Semper Fi" decals along each side.
Sgt. Jimenez's likeness has been airbrushed onto the car's hood, and photos of the other 12 Marines -- six to a side -- have been placed on the rear quarter windows.
It's a project, garage owner Wade Linger believes, that's "over the top," but one he took on "for the honor to do it."
It's a reminder, said Ms. Swartz, to "never forget what the cost of freedom is."
It's also a portrait of the depth of military brotherhood, of how emotions drive intellect and of a mother's love for her son.
A second-hand Mustang GT from 1988-1993 is usually worth no more than $6,000. They're a favorite of young guys with little money who want a hot rod.
R.J. paid cash for his in October 2003 after his first tour in Iraq. He painted the green Mustang what he called "California orange," moved the battery to the trunk so the added weight would increase its quickness and took out the console. When he and his Marine buddies came to visit, they'd race the five-speed up and down back roads and on nearby Interstate 68. His plan was to buy a truck after he finished his second tour, and then restore the Mustang.
R.J. was 5 feet, 9 inches tall and weighed only 130 pounds. Tattoos of flames covered his wrists and belly. He didn't talk much but he was tough.
Once on a four-mile hump in boot camp with 100-pound packs, a friend got sick and couldn't continue. R.J. carried both packs the rest of the way. Patient and stealthy, he could track deer through deep forests. Once, after a successful hunt with other Marines, they dressed the deer and brought it back to base at Camp Lejeune, N.C., for a cookout.
When he last spoke to his mother a week before his death, he reminded her to send the latest issue of his Mustang magazine subscription, along with cigarettes, socks, gum, candy and powdered drink mix.
In the weeks and months after his death, Ms. Swartz wrestled with the best tribute for her son. She knew it had to involve his car and the Marines.
At a parade she saw a car with a large photograph pasted on its hood. And that's when the idea hit her: She'd make her son's car a Marine memorial.
Her friends weren't enthusiastic. "Everybody was like, 'He'd kill you for doing that,' " she said.
It remained just an idea until last fall, when a neighbor happened to hand her a newspaper ad for Wade's Garage in Fairmont. She looked at the Web site, visited the garage with R.J.'s stepfather and invited owner Wade Linger to come see the Mustang.
He did, and from the photos he took, an artist drew some computer-enhanced images of what R.J.'s car might look like. When she asked if her son's photograph could be on the hood, the garage owner's first reaction was to talk her out of it.
He quickly understood, however, that the story being told was hers to tell, not his. And he decided to become the narrator.
His love of cars extended back to his own childhood -- during high school he took a 1956 Volkswagen and stuffed a big engine in it, "scaring my parents to death" -- and during his eight-year Air Force career he had built a kit car.
He was a software consultant for defense contractors before starting his own business in 1996. Nine years later it had 80 employees and $11 million in annual revenues. He sold it, bought 23 acres along I-79 and built Wade's, a 10,000-square-foot garage "allowing me to take my hobby and put it on steroids."
His four-man garage has restored plenty of cars -- a '57 Chevrolet Nomad station wagon is one of his favorites -- but Ms. Swartz's proposal was different. It was taking a low-end car and "turning it into a piece of jewelry."
But as the father of a Marine who served in Iraq and returned home, he knew how lucky he was: That could have been his son who didn't come back. His son owns a '92 Mustang GT, too.
A paint store used a digital camera to match the car's "California orange" paint. The dashboard is being redone to such detail that the backgrounds of the custom gauge clusters match the camo interior. The engine has been overhauled.
Airbrush artist Brian Banker, a Navy vet in nearby Stonewood, started the difficult process of painting R.J.'s likeness on the hood weeks ago. It required him to start with a black background, paint a white layer and then project on it an image of R.J. The one chosen was the traditional photo in Marine dress blues.
R.J.'s face required 35 layers of hand-mixed paints. The uniform's buttons are in gold leaf. The "blood stripes" and ribbons are in exquisite detail.
"It's a patriotic thing," the artist said. "When I do something with a military theme I always seem to go a little further."
Ms. Swartz's original $25,000 budget has long since been exhausted. The garage is donating an additional $20,000. The process is still several weeks from completion, but the car, if such a things is possible, already has been imbued with its soul: R.J.'s painted likeness and the photos of his friends. When finished, it's likely to become a featured staple in veterans' and memorial parades around the country.
"I guess it just depends on what means something to you," Ms. Swartz said. "Something that's sentimental to you might not mean anything to someone else.
"Everybody has a different value for different things."
Steve Levin can be reached at slevin@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1919.
First published on February 24, 2008 at 12:00 am
Ellie