Some of my life in Law Enforcement...

Reflecting back on my years in Law Enforcement, I can remember the pride that came along with wearing that uniform. There is no greater feeling than accomplishment, and this portion of my life was HUGE for me. I had overcome more barriers than most would even try to attempt and besides, I was good at climbing fences!

            Coming from a troubled past and living a life of trouble, adversity, no integrity, etc…to now having a new life, starting over, clean, fresh and attaining an impossible goal, I remember what it was like when I became a Deputy Sheriff. This story was written as an Undergrad after leaving Law Enforcement.

Time to reflect can often times reconnect you with the magnificence of your life! Take time, remember the greatness about your life, re-connect with a time when you felt gifted, talented and fabulous, and start from there again! Greatness is in all of us and great things happen to us even when we think our life is the darkest!

This is how I remember feeling when I was young, accomplished and taking on a new path…I hope you enjoy the story!

PROUD WARRIOR:

Putting on that “skin” that changes me from the everyday man to a person of professionalism, a person of authority, a person who is serving others. I become a person “in service” and take pride in the reality that our purpose here on earth is to be in service to others. This pride rings true as I start my process of “becoming.”

            After scrubbing the film from my body from a long nights rest, I am now cleaned and prepped to apply this “skin” of pride. This “skin” is deserving of a clean and crisp appearance and to approach it any other way would be a disservice to the uniform. Pride is something that is approached with confidence and honor and far too many people take this honor for granted.

            Sitting in the corner of my bedroom, clinging to a tree made to hold a suit, I take a deep breath as I look at this shirt, those pants, those boots that shine so boldly you have to squint your eyes a little look at them. My stomach turns as I reach out and grab the khaki colored armor that must be applied prior to my new “skin” my bullet proof vest. What a shame it is that some cannot see the value of my service and would kill me for them to be “right”. The armor of cloth, tightly woven and fitted just right, protecting all the essential parts of me that keep me alive. Some will call this a vest, I call it my security blanket.

The perfectly ironed shirt with the edges on the sleeve as sharp as a butcher’s knife. A wrinkle here would take away from the power that this “skin” has. As I pick up this top layer, I can hear the cracks of the starch that has been applied, applied to give the stiffness of professionalism. The stiffness of attention, the stiffness of true pride. As I lift it off of its tree, I can already feel the power that it has, the true essence of respect. The honor that comes with this is one that has to be experienced to get a full effect.

The shirt slides down my arms and it attaches itself to my skin and to my armor and you can feel all of this mold together and become one “thing.” I stand in the mirror, at attention and proudly button each button. Starting at the bottom, I secure each button and wipe away any wrinkle that might follow. My pride grows as I get to the last one. Shirt buttoned, I stand looking at myself and pull the shirt down to secure it in place. I am becoming a proud warrior.

I turn slowly to face the suit tree again and see the khaki pants with a solid green stripe down the side. Perfectly pressed with a distinct seam in the middle of the legs that holds the sharpness of the sleeves and the stiffness of that pride that I so strongly speak of. As I pull them from the tree, again I hear that familiar crackle of starch. Starch applies the crispness that will add to the authority and responsibility of what this uniform represents.

As I slide my pants on, I again feel the cloth adhere to my skin and the natural feel that it has on my body. I pull them up to my waist and carefully tuck in the shirt. I turn to look in the mirror once again and when I see myself, I get a chill. A small chill of fear, fear in me of my ability to live up to what this uniform represents. Fear again turns to pride as I line the buttons of the shirt up with the zipper of the pants and again, wipe away any wrinkles that would defame what this represents. I buckle my belt and align it with the buttons. Shimmering buckle and I stand in awe of my reflection. An honor to wear this uniform, a trademark of “now day warrior.”

Socks applied and back to the tree, the tree that now appears to slouch at the lost of the “skin” that it so proudly held. Emptiness is growing in that corner of my bedroom. Under the tree is a pair of mirrored black boots. The results of tiresome spitting, polishing and brushing. A reflection seen in this deep black shine of my face as I lean to pick them up. As I lift them, I am aware of the weight of the steel shanks in the soles, in the toes, and heavy rubber that will protect my feet from any damage that might occur as I face the battle field. Created to support my ankles so that I might stand to defend those that I am sworn to serve.

I slide them on my feet and can tell that the comfort created in these boots was purposeful. Someone was actually considering my comfort when making these boots. Someone actually thought about it and made these so that when I am faced with adversity, these would support me in my efforts to stop that adversity. Again, my honor and pride bubble up in the bottom of my stomach.

I lace up the boots and slide the pants down over them and again turn to my reflection. I have a responsibility and it is to this uniform. It gives me authority and strength and I owe it the attention of perfection. Respect is not easily obtained but can be acquired when attention is given to details.

I proudly stand in my reflection and check all areas of my armor, of my new skin and my attitude and personality are starting to shift. I am becoming the warrior that I so proudly hold title to. I am no longer the man I was when I rolled out of bed and now am shifting into something new. Shifting to a place where I am comfortable, a place where I am proud.

Like a knight who has applied his shining armor, I now turn and face my weaponry. A single black belt with the tools of my trade attached. Tools that can be used to stop violence with a glance or used to stop it forever. As I walk toward this belt of power, I mentally nod to show the respect that it deserves. Placing this on ones body is something that should not be taken lightly. The factor of responsibility has just leaped to great measures as I slowly secure this to my waist.

The weight of the weapon, the weight of the restraints, the weight of the leather, all of this seems very heavy as I pick it up and pull it around my waist. Do people realize what this weight truly is? Not the weight of the metal, not the weight of the deadly spears inside the body of the weapon, the weight of responsibility is what makes this so heavy.

Securely placed on my hips, again I turn to my reflection. Shining leather, glimmering steel, buckle shining bright and all aligned in perfection. Top button in perfect line with the buckle, buckle aligned with the zipper, crisp perfection and now my chest sticks out and I breathe. Before walking out the door and facing a day of battle, I have three small steps that may seem insignificant but are so very important.

I step to my dresser and sittings there are four shiny metal object. One a glimmering star that has been buffed and shined so that when I step onto that field of battle, there is no guessing who I am and I securely pin my badge of honor over my heart. A proper place for such an amulet. Covering my heart and placed with pride. My heart is what this badge represents. Pinned in place and aligned like all the others, with perfection.

The next piece of my warrior attire is a narrow piece of metal that is boldly etched “B. Golden” and this is to let everyone know the name of the person who is taking on the job of making the world they live in a better place. Knowing the name of your rescuer is so very important. It takes you from the surreal into reality and places a name on a shining light. Until you have been in need of rescue, this point is something that cannot be understood. This gives “reality” to those who live in an “unreal” world. A name proudly displayed that tells who the warrior in this suit of armor is. Applied above the right breast and securely fastened.

On my shirt collar I place the last of the items…These are two symbols. They are mirror matched and have two letters on them; S.D. I apply each one in the proper place, aligned exactly the same, the edges of the letters barely touching the knitted seam of the collar. Once again, an identifier so that people know that a “Proud Warrior” is here for them; to serve, to protect! A weight on my shoulders of un-measurable heaviness.

One last time I turn to the mirror to check for any flaws that would take away from this “skin” of honor. Last wrinkle wiped away, one more button straightened, one last brush on the glimmering boots. I am ready to walk into battle if duty so calls me. A walk from my castle, my security and onto the battlefield. I am prepared and I am honored to serve. A ritual that cannot be explained with anything other than experience, a proud warrior takes his place and steppes into the unknown. To “Protect and Serve,” what an honor, an honor that I will carry with me forever.

When I wrote that story, I was in my Sophomore year of college, after leaving Law Enforcement halfway to retirement. I was still battling my transition back into the “real world” because trust me, the life on the inside of a cops life is not what society views as the “real world” and the tools you pick up from that type of immersion are not appreciated in the “real world.” Transitioning from that life to this one was one of the hardest things I have ever done… That was one hell of a fence; and when I get overly stressed; my dreams and anxiety show me I am still climbing!

 I have been out of that field now almost as long as I was in it as a matter of fact, as I sit and type this, I reflect back and remember that we unloaded our trailer into our new house in Medina (Bandera) October 1^st, 2001…Today is October 10^th 2010.

Oh the fences I have climbed since then! WOW!!

As I reflect back, I still have such a sense of pride of that time in my life. I learned so very much, saw more tragedy than any ten people will in a lifetime and learned lessons of life that carry me to where I am now. The world looks entirely different to me than to most; both in that profession and out of that profession.

 People don’t seem to like Law Enforcement all that much. It seems that when they are in your presence, generally you don’t want them to be…Writing tickets, taking you or loved ones to jail, ordering you, taking your freedom, inconveniencing your life. Luckily, because we do our job, many people never have a negative encounter with a cop. But most still have a fear of them…And THAT is a terrible thing!

Sadly, most of the “good” people in this profession get into it so that they can be that “Knight in Shining Armor” and the job forces you to alter from that. It’s hard for people to grasp why cops are such “jerks” and that’s because they don’t have the experience of what we see, do and encounter every day.

Remember, always, the people in uniform are paid to deal with the tragedy in life that you turn away from, grow sick from, despise and reject as real; and trust me, its REAL!

 Children, who are injured, molested, abused. Families destroyed by substance abuse. People giving up their greatness for a drug to mask the world of reality to one of tolerance. Insanity, chaos, adversity, tragedy, pain, suffering….The underbelly and ugliness of the world…That’s what we are here to serve and protect you from; and we deal with it every single day! Even a solider on the battle field gets to come home after a tour or two. Not many soldiers live in warfare their entire career…Many, many cops do!

If it is true that “you are what you surround yourself with” then maybe this will explain the toughness, calloused responses, “jerk” mentality that is so often seen with Peace Officers…We surround ourselves with this every day; 8-12 hours a day, then pulling “extra jobs” to cover the expenses of life for 5-10 hours a week, overtime (because the pay sucks!), 24-7 duty in times of disaster. While you are sleeping peacefully, we are out stopping those who would take that peace from you in an INSTANT if given the chance. And even after all of that, someone will complain because we passed them speeding… Really??

Its funny in that life how one works for years without a letter of acknowledgment from people they helped, but open a file for complaint…and oh man!! Do you know how many people I have given breaks to that turned around and called in to complain on me because I “took to long” or how ““I” made them late to work?” or how I was “rude” because I dint want to hear their bullshit story and excuse? I didn’t break the law, YOU DID…And you pay me to enforce those laws! Funny, the laws are only good until it applies to them (some people mind you).

Do you know how many times I heard “I pay your taxes, you work for me!” Well I pay taxes too, so I am self employed! Or how I “must have had my lunch money stolen as a kid, that’s why you’re a cop” or “Do you know how much money I make? I make more in a week than you do in six months” Like having money takes you away from being a dirt-bag!

The last guy that told me that, he has his 9 month old baby in the “Hood” buying crack from a crack dealer, in the car seat while he was buying dope off the street. My response to him was “Yeah, maybe so, but your just a rich piece of shit to subject your child to that and no amount of money will make you any different.”

And you know, you don’t go home and talk to your family about this stuff; why would you want to expose them to this? We protect those we don’t know from it, why wouldn’t we protect hose we love from it? You cant go see a counselor because this would be a sign of weakness, and besides, if they don’t have a badge on, you don’t trust them anyway!

 So in turn, you are left with the guys and girls you work with to vent, talk about these things and laugh about the silliness of life itself. Because its true… “Truth is stranger than fiction!” And those folks are just as torn as you are.

So now you have the scum of the earth you deal with all day and the men and women immersed in all of that who you spend your time with throughout the day. The water fountain we stand around at chat at is much different than the one at your office building. Our humor is jaded, edgy, and brutal; but how can you deal with these types of tragedy and not laugh about it?? It would make a person go insane.

A good analogy about police work is to look at it like football…Everyone loves football right?

When you play on this team, there is no offense…Only defense! You must be prepared for attack at any and all times. The way police officers get killed (and that we are taught continuously) is when you “let your guard down.” So in turn, you have to question EVERYTHING, you have to be aware of any little “shift” in the norm because the “shifts” are where the trouble is. The weight, as I reflect back, is unbearable at times!

So, why do cops drink, have broken marriages, are abusive, short and seemingly a little insane?? Because the life of insanity and chaos is where we call home! And trust me, most all cops who get into it, at the beginning, think “Man, I would do this for free!” Again, sadly, as time moves on this view changes.

Remember this…Cops aren’t called out to little Johnny’s house for his birthday to have cake and have fun…Cops are called to little Johnny’s house because mom and dad have gotten so drunk, have fought over the last BUSCH beer and now they are trying to shove little Johnny’s cake in each others faces and beat the crap out of each other. Now little Johnny sees this Knight come to his house, take his mommy and daddy away from him and he goes to some awful emergency shelter, away from his parents and often times into foster care…And trust me, Foster care isn’t all dandelions and puppy dogs!

I remember one of the things that parents would do all the time with me in uniform to their kids. I would be in some public place, having dinner and some parent would walk up with their kid and say “Now Johnny, you be a good little boy or these men will take you away and to jail!” I would get so frustrated with parents when they would do this… I would get up from my table, squat down to this terrified child and say “no, you don’t worry, we don’t take little kids to jail…Only stupid adults!” and then glare at the parent… I mean really, what are you teaching kids with this? I didn’t get into this field to be feared, I got into this field to serve and protect… Wow, how twisted reality can be sometimes!

How does it go??? “Lord forgive them because they just don’t understand.”

Now granted, Police Work has its perks! There is nothing like a 120-140mph police chase…Nothing like a seemingly pleasant person turning hostile in an instant and having to fight (and remember, EVERY fight a cop is in, a gun is involved…EVERY ONE!)… Nothing like catching a group of turds in a burglary ring who have victimized someone… Nothing like being able to lock someone up for abusing their kids or family…It’s a fulfilling job for sure.

I have had many people ask me, “What’s the best thing about being a cop?” and along with the excitement stories, I always say…

            “have you ever watched the nightly news and seen some guy who has brutalized a child, a woman, a family and they walk out of the courthouse with a smile on their face gleaming with their victory due to a technicality of a prosecutor or officer (remember, cops have to play by the rules, dirt-bags don’t!) and say… “Man, I sure would like to get 5 minutes alone with that guy?” Well, I used to get 5 minutes alone with that guy!”

“There is beauty in everything, not everyone sees it!”

~Confucius~

            I am not here to bash this profession or my experience in it. I loved the time I had in this field. It was rewarding, exciting and educational. I see the world in ways that most people will never be privy too; and I am blessed for the time I had! Its funny how now, when I hear of folks from my past in that profession, most have moved on and found other fields to pursue…and good for them! Life is too short to live it unhappily. A cop’s retirement is a good retirement…And if you make it to that point, you are not in the “norm” of that field. So many people come and go in that life but I am proud I was part of it, respect the jobs they have and pray that each and every one of them gets home safe….because ultimately, when putting on that armor, your first goal is this…Get home safe!

To all those Proud Warriors out there…Be safe and watch your backs!!