Who are We?

When people first hear the name Widows Sons, the first question is almost always the same:

“So… who are the Widows Sons?”

We are not the literal sons of a widow. Our focus is not on one charity or one cause that focuses on the widows, noble though that may be. The name comes from something older, deeper, and far more symbolic. It comes from a man whose story sits at the heart of Masonic tradition—a man known to history and legend as Hiram Abif.

Now, I say know carefully, because even his name is uncertain. Some say “Abif” was not a surname at all, but a title meaning his father. What we do know—whether through scripture, history, or allegory—is that he was the principal architect of King Solomon’s Temple. A master craftsman. A man trusted with great responsibility. And yes, a man described as the son of a widow.

But Hiram’s true legacy isn’t about who his mother was. It’s about whom he chose to be.

Hiram Abif represents the ideal of integrity under pressure. Skill guided by conscience. Loyalty to principle when compromise would have been easier—and safer. In Masonic lore, he is not remembered because he lives in Masonic lore and tradition forever, but because he would not betray what he stood for. His character mattered more than his comfort. His honour mattered more than his life.

That is why his story endures.

That is why, centuries later, men who love the open road, the sound of engines, and the bond of brotherhood still call themselves Widows Sons.

Because being a Widows Son is not about bloodlines. It’s about values. It’s about standing upright in a world that often rewards shortcuts. It’s about doing quality work—whether that work is in a lodge room, a workshop, a job site, or a family home. It’s about being a man whose word still means something.

Freemasonry teaches us to take good men and make them better. Not perfect—just better. More thoughtful. More disciplined. More aware of how our actions affect others. The Widows Sons take those same lessons and carry them onto the road. The road, my friends, is a powerful teacher. Riding a motorcycle demands presence. You cannot scroll. You cannot drift mentally. You must be awake, aware, and accountable for every decision you make.

The road reminds you quickly that freedom without responsibility is chaos. Sound familiar? That’s Masonry too. On a bike, you learn respect—for the machine, for the elements, for the rider beside you. In our lodge and in the Widows Sons, you learn respect for your Brothers, for the Craft, and for the traditions that came before you. In both worlds, the ego gets checked fast. Arrogance gets punished. Brotherhood keeps you alive.

A riding formation only works when every rider understands their role and rides for the man next to them, not just themselves. A lodge works the same way. The Widows Sons works the same way. Life works the same way. The Widows Sons exist at the intersection of these truths.

We are not a motorcycle club that happens to have Freemasons, and we are not a Masonic body that just happens to ride. We are a brotherhood that uses riding as a bond, Masonry as a foundation, and service as our outward expression. We raise money for charities. We support communities. We show the public a side of Freemasonry that is visible, approachable, and human. We prove that tradition does not mean stagnation.

Freemasonry is not a secret society—it is a society with secrets, most of which are simply symbolic ways of teaching moral lessons. At its heart, it is about making good men better citizens, better husbands, better fathers, better friends. The Widows Sons take that philosophy and put it on two wheels. When we wear our vest, it is not a badge of superiority. It is a reminder of responsibility. A reminder that wherever we ride, we represent something bigger than ourselves. A reminder that character is not built in comfort—it’s revealed under pressure.

Hiram Abif never rode a motorcycle. But he understood something every rider here understands instinctively: that a man is defined not by what he claims, but by what he refuses to surrender. His tools were stone and metal. Ours are throttle and clutch. But the principle is the same—build something that lasts.

So what does it mean to be a modern-day Widows Son? It means remembering where we came from without being trapped by it. It means honouring tradition while writing new chapters. It means mentoring the next generation, not gatekeeping them. It means riding hard, living well, serving others, and leaving the Craft stronger than we found it. We are not here just to preserve history. We are here to make it.

Years from now, when someone asks what the Widows Sons stood for in 2026, may they say this: They rode together. They stood for something. They lived with integrity. They proved—on the road and off—that being a good man is still the greatest ride of all. Thank you, Brothers. Ride safe. Ride true. And let us continue, together, to build.

Your Brother

W. Bro John “T- Bone” Millar