Change and Reflection

“I can be changed by what happens to me,
But I refuse to be reduced by it.”
Maya Angelou

Good afternoon to all.

Is it fair to say that today we are challenged in some fashion with some regularity? We experience life in so many ways, that even the most stalwart of us may be altered. But what does this mean? Is it good? Bad? Neutral? Meaningful? Worthwhile? I would suggest that it is what we make of it as individuals.

In my line of work, we see so many who are led by others, often into belief systems and behaviors about which we can only shake our heads in disbelief.

I could spend many hours and a great deal of space describing some of what I have seen and experienced in 40+ years trying to help people. These experiences are unique, not because they are one of a kind (of which some are), but because they are mine. Every police officer has their own stories and they are unique for the same reason.

Today, our trials are great. We discuss these ad infinitum. We talk about the “bad apples” who seem to offset the good folks. Any well-meaning group does not want bad members. But they exist and it is incumbent on other group members to minimize or eliminate their influence. That is a very tall order.

I was recently told that my musings in these submissions are “low key”. I often communicate that way. Not so much because I try to be cryptic, but because I want people to think about what they read. Today, we are spoon-fed most of what we know.

I have been a teacher most of my adult life. I’ve taught a myriad of subjects, not only academic on the undergraduate and graduate university levels, but such subjects as firearms, personal protection, SCUBA diving and skydiving. I’ve taught leadership, management, ethics and cultural diversity to name but a few.

In the “old days” it was sufficient for me to instruct using personal experience and knowledge gleaned from other sources. A straightforward lesson plan was all that was required. If the class went well, we might deviate from the stated subject matter in order to address questions, concerns, abstract thoughts, and philosophies related to the question at hand.

I learned to teach that way from my dad, a full professor of medicine who loved and lived to teach his medical students. Not only was he an incredible teacher, but he had a thriving clinical practice as well. His patients sought him out and came from all over the world. He taught me that not everything to be imparted can be recorded on a piece of paper. He was the original “outside the box” teacher and practitioner. His students and patients loved him. He was my best friend.

Today, in order to instruct, one has to prepare a specific lesson plan including particular objectives that must be learned. Curse the teacher who deviates from the script no matter what the subject!! Thus, my reason for asking readers to think about and interpret for themselves what little I might write.

Honestly, today I find it difficult to be enigmatic. Candidly, I acknowledge without hesitation that there has to be legitimate change within my beloved profession. I also acknowledge this can be done as long as everyone accepts some responsibility. It’s not just the police. There are law makers, executives, special interest groups and judges who are able to create laws and render decisions as to how we must act.

It seems to me that we want lesson plans to follow, thus removing the need to be flexible and make decisions based on less-than-exact information.  

I was listening to some legislative testimony recently and one of the speakers was an attorney who asked the audience to believe that the police constantly physically abuse those in our custody. Apparently, the police never suffer injury at the hands of those we arrest. At least that was what he said he experienced in his 9 whole years as a member of the defense bar.      

Truth be told, police officers in the United States, on average, experience between 50,000 to 55,000 assaults a year. Of that number, at least 10% leave the profession due to the severity (emotional and/or physical) of the assault(s).  Had the departments I worked for at the time awarded purple hearts, I’d have two. I still have the scars to show for my efforts at the time. But apparently that doesn’t fit the paradigm of at least one lawyer.

Of course, it’s easy to ignore the fact that I’ve been shot at because I wear a police uniform, or the time I had to use my side arm because a “gentleman” took exception to the fact that I intervened after he finished beating his girlfriend to a bloody mess. How about all the individuals I talked out of killing themselves sometimes standing in unbelievable environmental conditions for many hours.

I admit (and it was not prohibited at the time) that I have used a choke hold to save my life. I was dispatched to a prowler call late at night in a trailer park. I was confronted by two very angry men who decided it would be advantageous to attack me. I was able to grab the closest young man and when he passed out his friend turned tail and ran. But we know criminals are so very brave. (All we had in those days was a side arm, two reloads, handcuffs, and perhaps a nightstick. No taser or pepper spray.)

I’ve been with people as they died. I helped deliver an African-American baby one very early morning. Dad was doing about 90 when I stopped his vehicle and saw that mom was in the process of bringing another soul into the world. Did their skin color mean anything? NO! It never has to me! I don’t know how many autopsies I’ve attended but I can assure you that inside we’re all pretty much the same colors.

But as I said, these are my experiences and I’m only one person in a police uniform. I have many hundreds of thousands of brothers and sisters who go to work every hour of everyday hoping merely to bring stability to unstable situations.

I work for you. If you think you can do a better job at any level, please stop by my office and take the reins. I’ll gladly step aside and become an observer. I’ve seen enough to last three lifetimes…as have so many of my colleagues.

I have a very dear friend who is a retired patrol officer from the New York City Police Department. Among his decorations is a solid black commendation bar on which are three gold capital letters…” WTC”.  This was awarded to NYPD members who were on the force that terrible day. He was there when the towers went down. He worked the “pile” for quite some time. Eighty-four funerals in a row. The largest American mass murder since Pearl Harbor. Do you think you can walk a mile in his shoes? 

Dear reader, I sincerely hope you have enjoyed some of my reveries and that they have entertained and stimulated some thought. I know I have enjoyed writing these pieces and sharing stories.

This is my last submission for a while. I think it’s time to reflect on what is happening in and around us and work diligently toward a peaceful and successful resolution.

One final selection:

ELEGY FOR A PIG (1970)

And if there must be a final postscript to all of this,
Then let it here be noted:
The coffin will soon be buried.
He will be forgotten except by a very few.
Out of sight, out of mind.
And strangely enough,
In view of current custom,
No one will raise a placard to denounce his senseless murder.
No one will raise indignant cries of protest at the shedding of his blood.
No one will march in anger because of his death.

As I have often said, please be well, be safe, and do be kind to the person next to you.

A bientôt mes amis.