Being polite and other things my Dad tought me. . .

Today I was missing my buddy so I went to the cemetery to say hello and leave a few things. I know he's not there, his spirit is somewhere else, but it made me feel better. For those of you familiar with various other religions, specifically Native American, you will understand the significance of a tobacco offering.
My friend smoked, (don't start, it's not good for you) it may/may not have helped to contribute to his death. Despite having a degree in community health and disease prevention, I could never persuade him to quit. All that aside, I went and bought a pack of cigarettes in his favorite brand.

is what the convenience store clerk does to me:
"I would like a pack of Marlboro Red please."
"Smoking's bad for you. You shouldn't buy those."
(Showing great restraint and smiling) "Thank you."
"Those are pretty strong, I don't think that's what you want."
"You have no idea. They will be fine."
(He hands me a pack of Marlboro Lights) "No. Marlboro Red please."
(With a disgusted look) "I can't believe you smoke these."

Really? If you have a moral problem with selling people cancer in a stick, don't work somewhere you have to sell tobacco and alcohol. Thanks.

This is followed by a wonderful experience in the cemetery.

"You shouldn't leave cigarettes on someone's grave, children will take them and smoke them."
"I'm going to field strip 5 of them and take the rest with me."
"I think that's just terrible."

Thanks.

At what point did Americans find it appropriate to be so anti-tobacco that they accost people in cemeteries? I'm old enough to posess them and I'm not smoking them. I think we'll be ok. I'm also pretty sure that most underage children don't get ahold of their tobacco products from cemeteries, but I could be wrong about that.

Am I talking to myself here?

Sorry for the extended delay . . . I was enjoying some extended time off thanks my wonderful build up of comp time. Now that it's time to get back to work, here's some of my recent phone conversations.

"What's my son charged with?"
"Felonious assault."
"Is that a felony?"

"What's my daughter charged with?"
"The official term is a 'capias,' it's a Latin term meaning to seize."
"What's it for?"
"She did something the court told her not to."
"What was it?"
"I have no idea. Depends on the conditions of her probation."
"That's illegal. You can't hold her when you don't know what it's for."
"I don't know what it's for, but the court does and that's who counts."

"What's my son's bond?"
"He's sentenced to 180 days in jail. No bond."
"Why not?"
"Uh, that's the point of a jail sentence. To serve it."

"My daughter got released on her charge of theft this morning, why isn't she out of jail?"
"She has 6 other pending charges including 2 felonies, one of which is escape."
"So why can't she get out for the morning and come back?"
"Nice try."

Shameless plug . . .

So thanks to Mrs. Fuzz over at "a police wife" I found this awesome little item on Etsy: http://www.etsy.com/listing/49174029/to-protect-and-serve. There are several other cool things in this shop including this: http://www.etsy.com/listing/47305224/it-is-not-how-he-died-that-made-him-a.
So in other news, I'm now addicted to Etsy. Nice.

Pain in the . . . oh, you know.

Actual dispatch: "Respond to the front of the city administration building for a female down in the lawn complaining of pain in the rectum and buttocks."
No one moved for the truck for a good second. "Are we getting punked?" "Is this the cops' idea of a joke?" "Is this a joke from our union negotiators?"

Oh no. Actual call.

Pain was not secondary to a fall, a bowel movement, heavy lifting or anything else we could find. May have been secondary to sitting on concrete for awhile down at the city park? Who knows, my medic's assessment provided no magical insight.
"Do you want transported to the ER?"
"No."
"Seriously? Then why did you call 911?" (She was in fact the original caller)
"I want an aspirin."
At this point my Captain looks like he might strangle someone.
"SEE THAT BIG SIGN THAT SAYS 'Walgreen's' AT THE END OF THE BLOCK?!"
"Yeah."
"THEY SELL ASPIRIN."
"I called you out here, I want you to do something. I'm not buying a whole bottle."
"We're leaving."

Memorials . . .

I have a question for all of you out there who may be reading this. Does anyone know of a company/person that makes police memorial jewelry? I would like something that can be concealed in my uniform (i.e. a necklace) or something that fits in our uniform regulations (a plain metal memorial bracelet). I have seen several places that manufacture stainless steel and aluminum bracelets, but all suggestions are welcome. Honestly my first choice would be a necklace, preferably my department's five point star, or custom dog tags. Any and all options are encouraged. Please leave suggestions in the comments section. Thank you.

Sunrise . . .

Hey buddy,
I'm sitting on my bed with my laptop just like I almost always was for our 2am phone call marathons. I keep waiting for you to call me and ask me to look something up for you. I'm waiting for the phone to ring with that ringtone I assigned to you 6 years ago and refused to change out of pure stubbornness. I wanted to call you so bad yesterday and ask about the dress uniform for the funeral, but it's your funeral. I polished the gun belt you helped me put together and hollered at me about constantly. I kept crying when I thought about it, so I think there's probably some tears on there too.
The boys cleaned up your cruiser, you would have been proud. I unloaded my magazines on my off days the other day because I swore I could hear you yelling at me about it. Someone is driving me in the procession because I know you wouldn't have wanted me behind the wheel all upset. I went to the doctor the other day when I was feeling sick; I didn't want you to think I never listened to you about anything. (And on that note, just for the record, you were right. As usual.)
You know which ones on your shift you have to keep a close eye on. Promise me you'll still look out for me, I don't know what I'm going to do with out you. I'm going to breakfast this morning with my favorite person, you know which one I'm talking about. I'll miss telling her about you, those were always great stories.
This is the hardest thing I've ever done. You were always the first person I hit the speed dial for when things were too much to bear alone. I can't understand why God would take my best friend. I know what you're saying, I can hear you. I'm not blaming God, it's just hard.
Well that's about it. "What are you doing exciting?" "Absolutely nothing." "Well why not?" I'm going to go outside in a little bit and watch the sunrise. Watch it with me please.

I love you.

End of watch . . .

It is with a broken heart that I post this. Last night my best friend/mentor/favorite deputy passed away suddenly before start of shift. I am at a loss. He was 42 years old.

I will say this. For six years, from the time I became a firefighter and eventually a deputy, he watched over me. He answered my questions and loved me unconditionally. The last words I ever spoke to him were "I love you."

God give me strength for I know I cannot do this alone. Never in a million years did I ever think a man I loved with all my heart would leave so soon. A man who will never see me get married, be promoted to patrol, turn 25 or any of the hundreds of other things we often spoke of.

I love you. Watch over your brothers and I; you would have been the person I would have turned to to get through something like this.

Please, if you are out there and feel the need say a prayer for my deputy. I know you didn't know him, but he would have loved all of you.

Rest in peace my brother, we have the watch.

BROTHERHOOD