It seems, when I think about it, that I try to emulate him now when I go on calls. I think that I channel the slight condescension during interrogations, the calm steady way of fact gathering, methodical, organized. In a rush for no one. Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast they'd tell us at the academy. He is the example, personified.
I think about when we were in the jail trying to get information out of a pill addict. I was at first shocked at how rude he was, a part of his personality I hadn't seen up to that point. Now it makes sense (I still have to lose some of the baby fat). All the suggestions, the different ways of doing things, the questions, the motives. When we were on the side of the highway, walking up to the stopped car, and he looks at me and tells me which way to go if he yells "jump". All the hours spent imparting knowledge, with the occasional corny as hell joke.
I will be lonely when it's over!
But I am ridiculously lucky. As if now I could ever deny His existence, after all of these tiny little miracles.
9.3.08
3.3.08
My teachers
I have been blessed with a wide and diverse array of mentors. It seems that the longer I'm around, the more doors open, the more people want to give me what they've picked up along the way. I am incredibly grateful. Here is some of the advice I've been given, thus far.
"Don't die."
"Make it through each shift with all your clothes."
"Don't get too anxious about taking on something new, all you have to do is bullshit and look like you know what you're doing till one of us gets there to back you up."
"Curiosity makes you a good cop."
"We are the biggest gang in the country."
"The single guys here are all man-whores. They're nice but if you were my sister, I'd tell you to stay away from each one of them."
"It's okay to walk away from something that gives you a hinky feeling if you can't figure it out."
"We don't catch the bad guys because we're smarter than they are; we catch them because they're dumber than us."
"Tell yourself at the beginning of each shift that you're not going to die today."
"If you're doing your job right, you'll be worn out but you'll be ready to go right back out and do it all again."
"Never sprint during a foot pursuit because you have to clean what you catch. Keep the bad guy in sight, eventually he'll stop running."
"One day you are going to really fuck something up. Know that it's coming, be able to learn from it, and move on. We've all been there."
"You are going to wreck a cruiser at some point."
"This job is mostly just knowing how and being able to talk to people. You were blessed with that talent and you should capitalize on it."
"Keep having fun."
"Ask for advice and help from the people you aspire to be like. We'll let you know if you're going to the wrong ones!"
"Stay on our side of the table."
"Keep learning, it keeps you young."
"Don't die."
"Make it through each shift with all your clothes."
"Don't get too anxious about taking on something new, all you have to do is bullshit and look like you know what you're doing till one of us gets there to back you up."
"Curiosity makes you a good cop."
"We are the biggest gang in the country."
"The single guys here are all man-whores. They're nice but if you were my sister, I'd tell you to stay away from each one of them."
"It's okay to walk away from something that gives you a hinky feeling if you can't figure it out."
"We don't catch the bad guys because we're smarter than they are; we catch them because they're dumber than us."
"Tell yourself at the beginning of each shift that you're not going to die today."
"If you're doing your job right, you'll be worn out but you'll be ready to go right back out and do it all again."
"Never sprint during a foot pursuit because you have to clean what you catch. Keep the bad guy in sight, eventually he'll stop running."
"One day you are going to really fuck something up. Know that it's coming, be able to learn from it, and move on. We've all been there."
"You are going to wreck a cruiser at some point."
"This job is mostly just knowing how and being able to talk to people. You were blessed with that talent and you should capitalize on it."
"Keep having fun."
"Ask for advice and help from the people you aspire to be like. We'll let you know if you're going to the wrong ones!"
"Stay on our side of the table."
"Keep learning, it keeps you young."
1.3.08
And so it goes
Preparing to leave and he hovers just outside of my personal space, telling me I should compete because I'd blow all the other females away. Tells me with my strength, endurance and shooting skill I'd win something for sure, most likely a gun. He keeps talking but the words stop reaching me. I'm looking at the photo of me and mom and dad at the academy, and thinking about how many times I've beaten him already. I am so much more than a couple of tits, some hips and the lack of a penis.
I wish I could take the preconceived out from under his feet, but I know that I can't. So I stop listening, I pack up, pick up, and move on.
Then out in the hallway and guys who aren't even on my shift are joking around with me, everyone doing their part to make me feel like one of the fold. We are sheepdogs, you remember.
I get words of support over the airwaves as I'm driving home down a sunny stretch of road, and yet even more encouragement (in the form of junior high teasing) once I've reached my door. There's just a couple of bad apples, and I've noticed most of the guys scooping me up in their wings and flying me away when I get too close to the rotten fruit.
And I wouldn't be happy any other way. This is why I signed on, this is why Emily said fuck you to doubt and became OFD's newest member. The brotherhood can make a joke of even the most cutting (and unjust) of criticisms. You're never really alone, and that's a rare thing these days.
*************************************
Your goals for the future, what you want and how you will take it. Remember that kid who was standing in a darkened parking lot of I-70 that September morning. There is a place that you can go to that no one understands, there is a place with limitless strength, yours for the taking. Never let yourself forget how you felt when they said your name. The pride you had associated with it, the strength it bore through those halls. Keep doing what you're doing, you have nothing but potential. (MLE this goes for you just the same. The only thing that gets in your way is doubt. Make it submit to your will and there will be nothing out of reach.)
I wish I could take the preconceived out from under his feet, but I know that I can't. So I stop listening, I pack up, pick up, and move on.
Then out in the hallway and guys who aren't even on my shift are joking around with me, everyone doing their part to make me feel like one of the fold. We are sheepdogs, you remember.
I get words of support over the airwaves as I'm driving home down a sunny stretch of road, and yet even more encouragement (in the form of junior high teasing) once I've reached my door. There's just a couple of bad apples, and I've noticed most of the guys scooping me up in their wings and flying me away when I get too close to the rotten fruit.
And I wouldn't be happy any other way. This is why I signed on, this is why Emily said fuck you to doubt and became OFD's newest member. The brotherhood can make a joke of even the most cutting (and unjust) of criticisms. You're never really alone, and that's a rare thing these days.
*************************************
Your goals for the future, what you want and how you will take it. Remember that kid who was standing in a darkened parking lot of I-70 that September morning. There is a place that you can go to that no one understands, there is a place with limitless strength, yours for the taking. Never let yourself forget how you felt when they said your name. The pride you had associated with it, the strength it bore through those halls. Keep doing what you're doing, you have nothing but potential. (MLE this goes for you just the same. The only thing that gets in your way is doubt. Make it submit to your will and there will be nothing out of reach.)
25.2.08
Pater Noster
You try to do what's right. A lot of the time I find that I'm in some nether-reality in my mind, almost like I'm a third-party observing from above and behind. I reach for the the switch to activate the lights, I grab the mic and call out, I position, I approach, I knock, I question. All as if on auto-pilot. But not in a way that tends towards apathy or disconnection -- it's more like there is a conscious delay in the synapses so that I might have a moment to reflect and consider while surveying the contents of a car (the movement of hands), or beginning a new line of questioning. A crescendo building up to the end game, one must be careful in its orchestration.
And it's funny, while I'm driving now I find myself reciting words that I thought I gave up on in high school, Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in Heaven, so in earth. Give us day by day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. For thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, forever and ever. Amen. I envision St. Michael just behind the cage, riding with me everywhere, sword always at the ready. Likewise, the spirit and strength of all my relatives (departed and not) fastened to me like another tool on my bat-belt.
And as often as I can, I give thanks. Today for a kindred spirit who has made it his mission to look out for me, to create experience for me while I am still cloistered. That he defends and sticks up for me more than, perhaps, I do for myself. I think about it sometimes and marvel at how lucky I am to have such an ally already.
Then today, at the hospital, I found myself reciting Hail Mary, full of grace... over and over for the blood-soaked and bruised woman I was questioning. I thought of the story of Mary Magdalene and how the most important thing to a meaningful life is devotion. And how fascinating that the lack of a belief system can really fuck a person up. When you worship yourself, your possessions, and your habit, how quickly everything around you dissolves, crumbles, evaporates.
The lesson is to work hard, earn what you have, but give thanks along the way. No one is entitled to anything. The most fucked up people that I encounter always say that they are owed something. You're not. Suck it up and make something of this life.
And it's funny, while I'm driving now I find myself reciting words that I thought I gave up on in high school, Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in Heaven, so in earth. Give us day by day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. For thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, forever and ever. Amen. I envision St. Michael just behind the cage, riding with me everywhere, sword always at the ready. Likewise, the spirit and strength of all my relatives (departed and not) fastened to me like another tool on my bat-belt.
And as often as I can, I give thanks. Today for a kindred spirit who has made it his mission to look out for me, to create experience for me while I am still cloistered. That he defends and sticks up for me more than, perhaps, I do for myself. I think about it sometimes and marvel at how lucky I am to have such an ally already.
Then today, at the hospital, I found myself reciting Hail Mary, full of grace... over and over for the blood-soaked and bruised woman I was questioning. I thought of the story of Mary Magdalene and how the most important thing to a meaningful life is devotion. And how fascinating that the lack of a belief system can really fuck a person up. When you worship yourself, your possessions, and your habit, how quickly everything around you dissolves, crumbles, evaporates.
The lesson is to work hard, earn what you have, but give thanks along the way. No one is entitled to anything. The most fucked up people that I encounter always say that they are owed something. You're not. Suck it up and make something of this life.
18.2.08
Jesus, Mary and Saint Joseph
I am not one to anger easily. I should qualify that. I am not generally set off by the trivial irritations of life. When Henry Rollins said life is fucking hard I knew, in my bones, he was right. Life is fucking hard. I am grateful for how much I've been given, and am proud of how far I've come because I worked my ass of to get here.
Yesterday brought anger like I haven't felt for, I can't remember how long. Even the troops in Columbus couldn't get to me the way he did yesterday. I walked back out to the cruiser, polyester soaked with rain that was coming in horizontally, cursing and fuming the whole way. John met my gaze with sympathy as I headed back out. I took everything out of the trunk. I completely removed the backseat. Flipped down the visors, I even looked in the glove box. I went back in, I'm sure my ears were glowing red, I was soaked, raging, and clenched in my fist the only thing I could find... a ticket that another officer had misplaced.
He looks at me through eyes barely visible beneath folds of skin and tells me that I found the wrong thing. John gives me a sideways glance. I go back outside, without waiting, and can hear his footfalls following me. He shows me, and when I tell him I'd never been shown to look there, he doesn't understand and tells me that I'm still responsible. At this point my ears were so hot that it was uncomfortable.
No one should be set up to fail. The adage is to teach a man how to fish, not to place him at the side of a river, screw with him, and then berate him for not catching anything when he doesn't even know what the fuck a fish is.
Much later a message from John broke the dam. Funny how that works. You tell yourself that you're strong, that this shit doesn't get to you, and in the end it's the caring, the love and support of your brothers that actually pokes through the armor. Goes to the place that you stockpile the insecurity and the weakness.
But thank God for him. And the others. The knowing looks, smiles, winks and secret conspiring conversations that help fill the idle time. And I guess, when I think about it, that's really why I signed up. If I could just take a step back from the flame, I would be amazed at how many allies I've already acquired.
But I can't remember ever having recited the Serenity Prayer so many times, silently, to myself.
Blessed Father, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
My new goal is to consistently beat him in activity each month. Shouldn't be hard. (So maybe I don't anger easily but damn am I cocky!)
Yesterday brought anger like I haven't felt for, I can't remember how long. Even the troops in Columbus couldn't get to me the way he did yesterday. I walked back out to the cruiser, polyester soaked with rain that was coming in horizontally, cursing and fuming the whole way. John met my gaze with sympathy as I headed back out. I took everything out of the trunk. I completely removed the backseat. Flipped down the visors, I even looked in the glove box. I went back in, I'm sure my ears were glowing red, I was soaked, raging, and clenched in my fist the only thing I could find... a ticket that another officer had misplaced.
He looks at me through eyes barely visible beneath folds of skin and tells me that I found the wrong thing. John gives me a sideways glance. I go back outside, without waiting, and can hear his footfalls following me. He shows me, and when I tell him I'd never been shown to look there, he doesn't understand and tells me that I'm still responsible. At this point my ears were so hot that it was uncomfortable.
No one should be set up to fail. The adage is to teach a man how to fish, not to place him at the side of a river, screw with him, and then berate him for not catching anything when he doesn't even know what the fuck a fish is.
Much later a message from John broke the dam. Funny how that works. You tell yourself that you're strong, that this shit doesn't get to you, and in the end it's the caring, the love and support of your brothers that actually pokes through the armor. Goes to the place that you stockpile the insecurity and the weakness.
But thank God for him. And the others. The knowing looks, smiles, winks and secret conspiring conversations that help fill the idle time. And I guess, when I think about it, that's really why I signed up. If I could just take a step back from the flame, I would be amazed at how many allies I've already acquired.
But I can't remember ever having recited the Serenity Prayer so many times, silently, to myself.
Blessed Father, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
My new goal is to consistently beat him in activity each month. Shouldn't be hard. (So maybe I don't anger easily but damn am I cocky!)
14.2.08
DOA and body found
He was one month older than me, to the day. Walking down to his room in the basement, I thought this was his world as I trudged down the steps, it smelled like shit and piss and old beer, stale cigarettes and unwashed clothes. His skin was jaundiced and pale. When the paramedics strapped him to the board his arms kept flopping off his paunch, like a suffocating fish. That's how we knew rigor hadn't set in, and also the first clue that he wouldn't be resuscitated.
The ghost lingered after the body was gone. There was vomit on the side of his pillow, a small stain, camouflaged by the spent epinephrine needles and AED wrappers. There was a violently loud stain on the couch where he was found, slumped over; the contents of his bladder, after the muscles stopped working. The coffee table was littered with empty beer bottles and cigarette ash, and his despondent cousin was still metabolizing whatever drug (or drugs) they had consumed together.
Eyes fixed and dilated.
We searched the basement for a reason why, as if God was waiting under some unturned cushion or pillow, and if we could only find Him, He'd tell us what had actually happened. Instead we found drugs, and pictures of a dearly departed girlfriend who had passed just four months previous. I think they call that motive. Or at least a reasonable suspicion of same. He had a shrine to her next to his bed.
I kept waiting for the emotion to kick in. A sense of loss, or reverence, or at least a quiet respect. But the accumulation of beer bottles and cigarette ash only served as a reminder that life should not be lived so destructively... as if it were an ever narrowing path to a finite end.
DB joked around with me and made PS grab my leg when I surveyed the closet. JD laughed and sighed and passed his judgment silently, as he always does. Not a one of us offered comfort to the anguished man upstairs or was very understanding when he cursed us as we left. All of us were playing our roles as if scripted. As if our feet were on tracks and we couldn't help but where they led us.
And the whole time I felt his ghost, hovering, just above my shoulders. Was this really my life? Is this really it, then? My God...
Bless me Father, for I have sinned...
The ghost lingered after the body was gone. There was vomit on the side of his pillow, a small stain, camouflaged by the spent epinephrine needles and AED wrappers. There was a violently loud stain on the couch where he was found, slumped over; the contents of his bladder, after the muscles stopped working. The coffee table was littered with empty beer bottles and cigarette ash, and his despondent cousin was still metabolizing whatever drug (or drugs) they had consumed together.
Eyes fixed and dilated.
We searched the basement for a reason why, as if God was waiting under some unturned cushion or pillow, and if we could only find Him, He'd tell us what had actually happened. Instead we found drugs, and pictures of a dearly departed girlfriend who had passed just four months previous. I think they call that motive. Or at least a reasonable suspicion of same. He had a shrine to her next to his bed.
I kept waiting for the emotion to kick in. A sense of loss, or reverence, or at least a quiet respect. But the accumulation of beer bottles and cigarette ash only served as a reminder that life should not be lived so destructively... as if it were an ever narrowing path to a finite end.
DB joked around with me and made PS grab my leg when I surveyed the closet. JD laughed and sighed and passed his judgment silently, as he always does. Not a one of us offered comfort to the anguished man upstairs or was very understanding when he cursed us as we left. All of us were playing our roles as if scripted. As if our feet were on tracks and we couldn't help but where they led us.
And the whole time I felt his ghost, hovering, just above my shoulders. Was this really my life? Is this really it, then? My God...
Bless me Father, for I have sinned...
3.2.08
As a law enforcement officer...
I've been on the road for nearly five weeks now, and the job is challenging, overwhelming at times, demanding, and ten-thousand times better than even the high expectations that I had for it. I love what I do. It feels right, it gives meaning to my life; I actually feel like I'm making the community better each time I call 10-8.
A few nights ago I stopped and arrested my first drunk driver. The guy was very cooperative, and failed each test miserably. He was so hammered that he couldn't remember where he was driving to pick up his 11 year old daughter. A cold shiver ran down my spine when I pieced it together that his young daughter was waiting for him about two blocks up the road. God knows what their fate would have been had I not noticed the equipment violation and decided to stop him for it.
It is an inconceivably thin line.
The other day I assisted on a domestic. The wife was so scared of the husband that she was visibly shaking as she gave us her account of what had happened. Fearful to take action because of the possible repercussion. He was an authoritarian to be reckoned with; his two dogs had the run of the house and used the living room as their litter box. The place reeked of animal waste, strange food and stale air. I remained after he was arrested and transported, to help with statements and the other necessary paperwork. As the women of the house were writing, I found myself praying silently, Blessed Father, watch over this household, take the fear from their hearts and fill it with Your love, with confidence, with strength. Blessed Father, give them the resolve to get out of this mess while they can. Watch over them as they do. As if I could cast some kind of forcefield around the house to keep the evil that had left from returning.
St. Michael, keep whispering in my ear and guiding my hands and feet. Help me get to where I'm needed most, show me how to do your work. Keep all of my brothers and sisters in blue safe as they call 10-8.
A few nights ago I stopped and arrested my first drunk driver. The guy was very cooperative, and failed each test miserably. He was so hammered that he couldn't remember where he was driving to pick up his 11 year old daughter. A cold shiver ran down my spine when I pieced it together that his young daughter was waiting for him about two blocks up the road. God knows what their fate would have been had I not noticed the equipment violation and decided to stop him for it.
It is an inconceivably thin line.
The other day I assisted on a domestic. The wife was so scared of the husband that she was visibly shaking as she gave us her account of what had happened. Fearful to take action because of the possible repercussion. He was an authoritarian to be reckoned with; his two dogs had the run of the house and used the living room as their litter box. The place reeked of animal waste, strange food and stale air. I remained after he was arrested and transported, to help with statements and the other necessary paperwork. As the women of the house were writing, I found myself praying silently, Blessed Father, watch over this household, take the fear from their hearts and fill it with Your love, with confidence, with strength. Blessed Father, give them the resolve to get out of this mess while they can. Watch over them as they do. As if I could cast some kind of forcefield around the house to keep the evil that had left from returning.
St. Michael, keep whispering in my ear and guiding my hands and feet. Help me get to where I'm needed most, show me how to do your work. Keep all of my brothers and sisters in blue safe as they call 10-8.
16.12.07
9.12.07
12 days and a wake up!
I remember the night before the first day. Getting into my car in the driveway on Pleasant Street, I wore my sunglasses so that they couldn't see me crying. They knew anyway. The thing that killed me was hugging MLE -- like the last piece of safety before marching off to death.
It brings back snapshots of the half-boy story that Rudd used to tell us in class. How many times in this life do we cleave ourselves, only to find a better, stronger addition that is truer to what remains than what was cast off.
I don't know now if the change occurred gradually over weeks, or if it was like thunder and lightning and when I woke up that first morning it was to a new spirit. Sometimes overwhelming to think about. There is no point in writing because the words would cloud the simplicity of what I'm taking away from that place: the only thing that is stopping you is your mind. So cliche and common, but amazing in its accuracy. And you'll know it when you experience it -- and I hope that you do.
There is no time for insecurity. No second-guessing or doubt. Around the hill? No way! Over the hill? No way! Through the hill? My way! Through the hill? All day! Lead or follow, there is no way you'll fail if that's what you've decided.
It brings back snapshots of the half-boy story that Rudd used to tell us in class. How many times in this life do we cleave ourselves, only to find a better, stronger addition that is truer to what remains than what was cast off.
I don't know now if the change occurred gradually over weeks, or if it was like thunder and lightning and when I woke up that first morning it was to a new spirit. Sometimes overwhelming to think about. There is no point in writing because the words would cloud the simplicity of what I'm taking away from that place: the only thing that is stopping you is your mind. So cliche and common, but amazing in its accuracy. And you'll know it when you experience it -- and I hope that you do.
There is no time for insecurity. No second-guessing or doubt. Around the hill? No way! Over the hill? No way! Through the hill? My way! Through the hill? All day! Lead or follow, there is no way you'll fail if that's what you've decided.
25.11.07
Nothing without my family.
I pray that I didn't worry you because it was not my intent; I am like that dog who barks in the night at the tree-branch scraping against the window. Sometimes my alarms are entirely unwarranted.
Listen: now is not the time to back down. This is when they'd like for your insecurity and self-doubt to creep in but you absolutely cannot let that happen. Four weeks. A month! It is nothing. A month ago was Halloween, how quickly the time from then to now passed. It will be over and done with before you can even wake up from this lucid dream. Surface for a moment, draw in a deep breath and dive. You can do this because you have already decided that you will.
The amount of strength and support that you can draw from is unthinkable. Everyone should be so lucky, so loved. Each moment that you sit idle, remember the place that your heart resides, go back to your home in your mind and be renewed. Don't lose sight of where you come from, and where you will be returning.
You are the support of so many, remember that. They will look to you when they're wavering. You cannot look weak, insecure, doubtful. Keep your chin up. Unchain that lion who resides in your heart. Lead your people to the finish with a loud and resounding roar.
Send me strength and I will come back to you all like Leonidas. Tempered by the fires of hell and with an indomitable spirit from St. Peter himself.
Listen: now is not the time to back down. This is when they'd like for your insecurity and self-doubt to creep in but you absolutely cannot let that happen. Four weeks. A month! It is nothing. A month ago was Halloween, how quickly the time from then to now passed. It will be over and done with before you can even wake up from this lucid dream. Surface for a moment, draw in a deep breath and dive. You can do this because you have already decided that you will.
The amount of strength and support that you can draw from is unthinkable. Everyone should be so lucky, so loved. Each moment that you sit idle, remember the place that your heart resides, go back to your home in your mind and be renewed. Don't lose sight of where you come from, and where you will be returning.
You are the support of so many, remember that. They will look to you when they're wavering. You cannot look weak, insecure, doubtful. Keep your chin up. Unchain that lion who resides in your heart. Lead your people to the finish with a loud and resounding roar.
Send me strength and I will come back to you all like Leonidas. Tempered by the fires of hell and with an indomitable spirit from St. Peter himself.
28.10.07
The strength of my armor.
Cracks that let the emotion through, the baggage I don't want to own anymore. It's a constant emergency weld, a steeling of the flesh. I am a brick-mason, I never sleep. I spend each moment applying mortar to the weak spots. I cannot allow any flaw in the foundation. This early morning on the drive in I will stop at the nearest bridge and fling that luggage into the watery depths below. It cannot weigh on me anymore.
It was a choice I had to make awhile back, and for the most part I think I made it subconsciously. Not that I didn't think about it; it was just something that I knew I had to do, like taking in the next breath, or waking from sleep. It is not something that one considers greatly. There is a code that each warrior adopts, and it leaves no room for vacillation or second-guessing. Or outward softness. Each footfall is made forward, that is just how it is. You either understand, or you are in the way. That is cold, harsh, cutting, but it really can't be any other way.
When someone opens fire, everyone else will run away but I have made the choice to run forward. When people are fighting, I will be the one to dive into the melee, while you sit on the fringe with your cell phone camera, snapping away. On Christmas Eve when you are snug in front of a fire with your family, I will be lurking, waiting, watching. I understand why. I know why I made the choice that I did. But I don't think that you ever will, and it's not something that I'll be able to explain to you.
Good-bye, good luck. May you find something to give your life meaning. May you one day understand what it is to hear the call to serve and be unable to say no.
It was a choice I had to make awhile back, and for the most part I think I made it subconsciously. Not that I didn't think about it; it was just something that I knew I had to do, like taking in the next breath, or waking from sleep. It is not something that one considers greatly. There is a code that each warrior adopts, and it leaves no room for vacillation or second-guessing. Or outward softness. Each footfall is made forward, that is just how it is. You either understand, or you are in the way. That is cold, harsh, cutting, but it really can't be any other way.
When someone opens fire, everyone else will run away but I have made the choice to run forward. When people are fighting, I will be the one to dive into the melee, while you sit on the fringe with your cell phone camera, snapping away. On Christmas Eve when you are snug in front of a fire with your family, I will be lurking, waiting, watching. I understand why. I know why I made the choice that I did. But I don't think that you ever will, and it's not something that I'll be able to explain to you.
Good-bye, good luck. May you find something to give your life meaning. May you one day understand what it is to hear the call to serve and be unable to say no.
14.10.07
At night, under my breath.
Blessed Father, watch over my family in my absence. Let them know that their love and support reaches me even in the farthest corners of darkness. Keep them from harm and tell them that I get through the week only to see them again.
Help me keep my head up. Give me your strength when mine wavers. Make my voice strong and resolute so that I can be a confident leader and keep everyone moving forward. Help me to remember that this life is perfect and that I am walking a noble path. Help me to remember that I am a warrior and that there is nothing that can stop me.
In the morning remind me that I am lucky.
Help me keep my head up. Give me your strength when mine wavers. Make my voice strong and resolute so that I can be a confident leader and keep everyone moving forward. Help me to remember that this life is perfect and that I am walking a noble path. Help me to remember that I am a warrior and that there is nothing that can stop me.
In the morning remind me that I am lucky.
8.10.07
Orion is with us.
Can I be like Leonidas and keep my stubborn sense of humor, keep the fire in my belly burning white hot? Can I lead people through places they do not want to go with a smile on my face and the unwavering determination that we will not be defeated? When I tell them that we cannot fail, that we can never stop, will they believe me?
That dark morning when I cast my stones to fate I was somewhere else, mentally. The skies were September blue, and a long country road climbed steadily to the horizon, weaving through golden corn fields peppered with brightly colored barns and farmhouses like a black snake. When he asked me if I was in another place, it took me a few seconds to tear myself away and reply, yes. The rush of traffic on I-71 and the grittiness of the empty parking lot made the present so stark, in comparison.
The key will be to have all twenty-nine of us standing sentinel on that same stretch of country road. To somehow have everyone understand that there is no way they can touch us. All they can do is yell, which has become comical, or PT us, which makes us stronger. We own that place.
That dark morning when I cast my stones to fate I was somewhere else, mentally. The skies were September blue, and a long country road climbed steadily to the horizon, weaving through golden corn fields peppered with brightly colored barns and farmhouses like a black snake. When he asked me if I was in another place, it took me a few seconds to tear myself away and reply, yes. The rush of traffic on I-71 and the grittiness of the empty parking lot made the present so stark, in comparison.
The key will be to have all twenty-nine of us standing sentinel on that same stretch of country road. To somehow have everyone understand that there is no way they can touch us. All they can do is yell, which has become comical, or PT us, which makes us stronger. We own that place.
3.9.07
Sing loud, sing proud!
You are the reason that I can make it. You all are. It is like when we were kids and mom and dad would go on a trip without us, and mom would tell us that there are invisible strands that connect us to each other, no matter how great the distance. This whole time, she was right.
At 0620 in a still dark parking lot with the troopers screaming at us over the deafening roar of I-71's morning commute, you are the reason that I do not shake. The thought of returning to a family which contains more love and support than most people will know in their lifetime keeps my arms unbendable, keeps me aloft like a stone cut-out of determination. They cannot form the syllables of my last name with their usual mockery because all of you stand in the way.
I am one of something that they will never be able to break.
At 0620 in a still dark parking lot with the troopers screaming at us over the deafening roar of I-71's morning commute, you are the reason that I do not shake. The thought of returning to a family which contains more love and support than most people will know in their lifetime keeps my arms unbendable, keeps me aloft like a stone cut-out of determination. They cannot form the syllables of my last name with their usual mockery because all of you stand in the way.
I am one of something that they will never be able to break.
26.8.07
Rise like lions!
I have so much to be thankful for. The love and unconditional support of an amazing family who understands the need to constantly push one's self to achieve, to realize potential, to never stop the quest. No matter how divergent the ends might be. That I was born with intelligence, and that my parents encouraged me to excel in my studies. That I have always been a tomboy, and thus athletic, and had Emily to compete and practice with. That I have no doubts in my physical ability and might, at times, even be confident to the point of illogic in that regard. That I was hired so quickly and by such a professional department. That I have an unlimited career ahead of me. That everyone there wants me to realize my full potential.
That I understand why the phrase is so important to Emily, that Life is Fucking Hard, and that it's important to me, too. That we can both use that knowledge as fuel for a hot and intense fire instead of dwelling on it darkly.
That one of the most sexist and closed-minded people I have ever met respected me at the end of my tour with him, and that he called me Annie Oakley and told Reed that it was a mistake that his agency didn't pick me up. That I was able to change his opinion that thoroughly through my actions and not anything else.
That I have the love and support and reassurance of so many successful law enforcement professionals already, even before I take this next step. That I know, deep in my core, even when my hands shake and my lips quiver, that there is nothing I can't achieve once I've made up my mind. And that my determination was passed down by generations of my forebears.
That I am sure we will be unvanquishable.
That I understand why the phrase is so important to Emily, that Life is Fucking Hard, and that it's important to me, too. That we can both use that knowledge as fuel for a hot and intense fire instead of dwelling on it darkly.
That one of the most sexist and closed-minded people I have ever met respected me at the end of my tour with him, and that he called me Annie Oakley and told Reed that it was a mistake that his agency didn't pick me up. That I was able to change his opinion that thoroughly through my actions and not anything else.
That I have the love and support and reassurance of so many successful law enforcement professionals already, even before I take this next step. That I know, deep in my core, even when my hands shake and my lips quiver, that there is nothing I can't achieve once I've made up my mind. And that my determination was passed down by generations of my forebears.
That I am sure we will be unvanquishable.
16.8.07
The half-boy cometh.
Try to reason with anxiety and nervousness; tell yourself that worry and doubt will only drain you of your energy, and believe it because it is true. Remember that there is no part of you that they can take or change or kill. Remember what all the guys have said so far about it being a mind game; that you wouldn't be offended by a small child, and that their words can't hurt flesh and bone, much less that stuff you horde on the inside.
Carry the words of the lieutenant in your back pocket, that pain is weakness leaving the body, and be proud to remember that you have so many unlikely yet devoted allies. Let your family be the trump card that you pull out in the middle of the night, when no one else is looking, to remember why you're there. To remember that life is really not so serious as they'd have you believe.
And above all else let the words of the emperor ring softly in your ears: that nature has intended everything for you, that whatever you may need it has already provided.
Eighteen weeks is not so very long.
Carry the words of the lieutenant in your back pocket, that pain is weakness leaving the body, and be proud to remember that you have so many unlikely yet devoted allies. Let your family be the trump card that you pull out in the middle of the night, when no one else is looking, to remember why you're there. To remember that life is really not so serious as they'd have you believe.
And above all else let the words of the emperor ring softly in your ears: that nature has intended everything for you, that whatever you may need it has already provided.
Eighteen weeks is not so very long.
7.8.07
Would you watch my six?
It's not supposed to be this hard I tell myself after the conversation is over, phone is folded up neatly and tucked back into its case. The bile taste in my mouth sliding back down my throat, my cheeks burning just a little less. I. Feel. Empty.
He tells me that living out west is important, that so is family and the practice and again the casual interjection of transferring my certification and how I could be a cop anywhere and if he was important to me I'd be willing to make that compromise. And like a lion my voice storms out of my gut that moving to the other side of the country is not a compromise, hair standing up on the back of my neck. (When you were a kid, didn't your parents tell you to stay away from a dog that's been hit? That they're the most vicious?)
The anger comes in waves and after it's crested the little reason I have left was able to weakly analyze all the countless other words and syllables into a mental image of me buried by a huge pile of shit and him walking calmly away, clean finger pointing back. Damn you Pyrrhus and your fucked up need to have your point be made. Don't you know it's easier to just go downhill?
Ten or fifty minutes later the phone tells me that maybe there is a way for it all to be worked out and for no moving to be involved, no compromises of that kind, but that he needs to feel safe and that it's up to me. And like a bastard I piss out yeah like what, you need me to play the fucking game and be able to guess what you need me to do to make you feel safe.
And the phone. Says. Yeah.
Over the last year or so my patience has run out on me, the bastard, in search of a gentler life. My tolerance is waning, lord, and my belief in love is endangered. I can be hard and unkind and outspoken and by most things remain unaffected. I try to steel myself, to not let the pokes and jabs and disappointments penetrate my skin. The thing he doesn't get is that I have to be this way, in this circumstance, that I would never survive my job if I couldn't, and that I wouldn't trade any small piece of it for lily-white serenity and a sterile sense of happiness. Bob and Marianne taught us that life is beautiful because it can be so ugly.
He tells me that living out west is important, that so is family and the practice and again the casual interjection of transferring my certification and how I could be a cop anywhere and if he was important to me I'd be willing to make that compromise. And like a lion my voice storms out of my gut that moving to the other side of the country is not a compromise, hair standing up on the back of my neck. (When you were a kid, didn't your parents tell you to stay away from a dog that's been hit? That they're the most vicious?)
The anger comes in waves and after it's crested the little reason I have left was able to weakly analyze all the countless other words and syllables into a mental image of me buried by a huge pile of shit and him walking calmly away, clean finger pointing back. Damn you Pyrrhus and your fucked up need to have your point be made. Don't you know it's easier to just go downhill?
Ten or fifty minutes later the phone tells me that maybe there is a way for it all to be worked out and for no moving to be involved, no compromises of that kind, but that he needs to feel safe and that it's up to me. And like a bastard I piss out yeah like what, you need me to play the fucking game and be able to guess what you need me to do to make you feel safe.
And the phone. Says. Yeah.
Over the last year or so my patience has run out on me, the bastard, in search of a gentler life. My tolerance is waning, lord, and my belief in love is endangered. I can be hard and unkind and outspoken and by most things remain unaffected. I try to steel myself, to not let the pokes and jabs and disappointments penetrate my skin. The thing he doesn't get is that I have to be this way, in this circumstance, that I would never survive my job if I couldn't, and that I wouldn't trade any small piece of it for lily-white serenity and a sterile sense of happiness. Bob and Marianne taught us that life is beautiful because it can be so ugly.
22.7.07
A postcard.
It happens more slowly than you think it would, change does. It's really not the way that movies would have you believe, where one day you wake up and everything is different and you feel like a new person, sun shining in through an open window and birds chirping from a nearby tree. It's more like a grain of sand being constantly underfoot and eventually, over months and years, your gait has changed to compensate for the disturbance. But that is too negative an analogy. It's mostly been up and up and up. A dusting of cobwebs and the downsizing of emotional clutter.
Though it is more romantic to say something like, "and one morning I woke up and I felt like a completely different person, and I knew I had made the right decision." Kind of boring really when it's delivered like it happens in real life, "I looked back over years of struggle, searching, victories and losses, and I realized that I had done alright for myself, that I thoroughly liked the person I had become and that the journey to get to her had been worth it." Life is mostly boring though I suppose. A handful of big events and several stretches of coasting in between.
My brain is too non-committal for a decent post. All I know is that the half-boy cometh.
Though it is more romantic to say something like, "and one morning I woke up and I felt like a completely different person, and I knew I had made the right decision." Kind of boring really when it's delivered like it happens in real life, "I looked back over years of struggle, searching, victories and losses, and I realized that I had done alright for myself, that I thoroughly liked the person I had become and that the journey to get to her had been worth it." Life is mostly boring though I suppose. A handful of big events and several stretches of coasting in between.
My brain is too non-committal for a decent post. All I know is that the half-boy cometh.
16.7.07
onetwothreefour
It came back to me like a lightning bolt, like sitting around the little table we made for our dorm room, eating Raisin Bran and it still smelled like varnish. Like the summer in between semesters when I went in for a midnight shift with dad and Fran was working and we talked about philosophy and how good grilled cheese was with tomato soup and how there was a pregnant potentiality in the heavy, humid 3am summer air. Like being in Deadwood, SD with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah on the radio, espresso coarsing through the veins, like I was the only one in the entire world who wasn't a cardboard cut-out, walking down the street like Seth Bullock all 50 feet of me.
Unrestrained hope pouring out of my little-kid heart. There is nothing you can't do. I drive with the moonroof open at night so that I can see the stars when I look up.
It's in the black of his eyes, the untethered hand, the gold chain peeking out like a mid-life crisis. It's the 4am comraderie that I wish could somehow stretch out forever or at least until I get tired again. It's the drive home through cornfields and cow pastures with the sun coming up and most of the households still asleep. It is the fact that each and every moment is perfect and complete and there for the taking.
Don't go looking for what you already have.
Unrestrained hope pouring out of my little-kid heart. There is nothing you can't do. I drive with the moonroof open at night so that I can see the stars when I look up.
It's in the black of his eyes, the untethered hand, the gold chain peeking out like a mid-life crisis. It's the 4am comraderie that I wish could somehow stretch out forever or at least until I get tired again. It's the drive home through cornfields and cow pastures with the sun coming up and most of the households still asleep. It is the fact that each and every moment is perfect and complete and there for the taking.
Don't go looking for what you already have.
10.7.07
Three months ago today.
My sister found the verse, in college I think, and it was something so simple and so true that it burned itself into my consciousness. Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell. Each time the half-boy resurfaces my brain's first defense is that line, over and over like a mantra of resignation.
Life is suffering. The thing is that one can choose to take on the suffering like a Spartan. If you cannot kill me you will only make me stronger...
It was one of the hardest things I've had to do in recent memory. That's not entirely true, the decision was the hard part; it was agonizing and torturous and even when I made up my mind I completely doubted myself. The action of saying goodbye was mostly surreal. (I should realize that sleep deprivation also played its part.) The Irish face so much like my father's, every row standing at attention, all of the sweat and frustration and sacrifices I'd made these last three months and I was saying goodbye.
Perhaps it is selfishness. The thought of starting over from scratch, going through all the same motions but under three times the pressure is severely daunting. It makes me tired to think about. Perhaps it is partly because I am losing the only stability I've had since April. Now daytime means being home, confronting the silence, the emptiness, and the ghosts that remain. Daytime is like a war-zone between confidence and all the chaotic doubt that hides behind corners and phone calls.
Read this in a year and remember where you came from, the road you walked to get into that uniform, how totally fucked and ridiculous some of the days were. You are way more capable than you will allow yourself to admit, kiddo.
Life is suffering. The thing is that one can choose to take on the suffering like a Spartan. If you cannot kill me you will only make me stronger...
It was one of the hardest things I've had to do in recent memory. That's not entirely true, the decision was the hard part; it was agonizing and torturous and even when I made up my mind I completely doubted myself. The action of saying goodbye was mostly surreal. (I should realize that sleep deprivation also played its part.) The Irish face so much like my father's, every row standing at attention, all of the sweat and frustration and sacrifices I'd made these last three months and I was saying goodbye.
Perhaps it is selfishness. The thought of starting over from scratch, going through all the same motions but under three times the pressure is severely daunting. It makes me tired to think about. Perhaps it is partly because I am losing the only stability I've had since April. Now daytime means being home, confronting the silence, the emptiness, and the ghosts that remain. Daytime is like a war-zone between confidence and all the chaotic doubt that hides behind corners and phone calls.
Read this in a year and remember where you came from, the road you walked to get into that uniform, how totally fucked and ridiculous some of the days were. You are way more capable than you will allow yourself to admit, kiddo.
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