Turned in all my stuff today. All my uniforms, all my equipment, my badge, and my ID. I picked up my retirement badge and ID, and departed the Harris County Sheriff's Office at about 1330 hours. I am no longer a police officer. I am just a regular Joe now, with no authority to arrest and detain, nor any responsibility beyond that of a normal citizen. What I contribute now, and what I accomplish, I do for myself, not for others.

It was too easy. Almost nonchalant. Here is the symbol of my profession, my badge, from my hand to yours Sheriff (actually to a clerk who works for the Sheriff). I end my service as if I'm handing someone an apple. No pomp, no flourishes, just a quiet placing of the new retirement badge into my wallet in place of the former. Hand shakes with friends I happen upon as I leave the building. And then I'm outside. Really outside.

When I retired from the military it was very much the same. But with that retirement I maintain many privileges, such as being able to go to a military base and just hang out if I wish. I can shop at the PX, camp at the campgrounds, celebrate national holidays. I can maintain some kind of connection.

But with the Sheriffs Office, there is little connection once you end your term of service. Sure, I'll stay in touch with friends, call and get together with them from time to time. Check in to see how they are doing, let them know how I'm doing. But this was, after all, just a job.

The problem is, it was never "just a job" to me.

Mac

It looks like, in about 2 hours, I'm going to be a civilian. This will be the first time ever that I've actually been a civilian completely.

I was born in a military hospital in San Diego, California, making me a military dependent. I stayed one till I joined the military myself at age 18. I stayed in the military reserve even after finishing my tour of active duty, and in the meantime, became a police officer and then a sheriff's deputy. I retired from the military reserve as well. So from birth to age 57 I've not been a civilian. At least to my way of thinking about it.

So now I'm actually going to be one, for real. A retired peace officer for certain, but a civilian to boot. I'm pretty sure there's no manual for that, no instruction booklet or list of items to follow as you move from one status to another. I know I won't get half price at the pizza place anymore, but that wasn't something I wanted to do anyway, so that's no big deal. I guess I'll have to be careful out there now to not involve myself in things that don't concern me, except perhaps, as a good witness.

I need to learn how to look at people differently. A few weeks ago, while in the food store, I was in street clothes and shopping for groceries. A couple who were also in there shopping nearby me were looking at some fruit or whatnot. I looked over at them, just glanced really, and the woman turned to the man and said, "That man just looked at me like he's a police officer!"

I have to admit, I was stunned. I had no idea that I had looked at them any differently than I might look at a can of beans sitting on a shelf in front of me, but it appears I was wrong. Police officers do, in fact, have a way of looking at people that is very, very different than most. Police look at you without the discomfort regular folks have when people catch you staring at them, because the Police have every right to stare at whomever they wish, and they know it. Part of what we do is to look at people while trying to determine just what they might be up to, or, to make sure they are not up to anything. So we look. And we stare. And our very look tells you that we know we can look and there's nothing you can do about it, and we are not uncomfortable in the least. This can be quite disconcerting to the general public at large.

So, I'm going to have to learn how to look at people in a whole new way. Any bets I'll be successful?

I certainly wouldn't bet the farm if I were you.....

Mac

Witnessed a bad motorcycle wreck this morning while on my way into town. Was the first one on the scene, stood by till the police, fire, and ambulance units arrived. When I walked up to the guy I just knew I was walking up to a dead man, but he was alive. Rode through the complete barrier system at the HOV lane entrance on southbound highway 45 approaching highway 1960. Went around me doing at least 90 mph, thought the HOV lane was open today (it wasn't), and hit the barriers at full speed. Broke through several barrier arms, a large, solid, metal gate, a cable mesh net, and another two barrier arms, leaving one last barrier arm untouched as the bike slid under it, and he flew over it. I parked my Jeep in the debris with the flashers on, got out and dialed 911 as I was walking up to where he was. He was still, motionless, and I couldn't hear anything until I knelt down by him and put my hand on his jacketed shoulder. He was saying over and over, "I though it was open, I thought it was open, I thought it was open." I was there for thirty minutes and when I left the ambulance crew was still working on him. His left leg is probably gone, I can't see how they'll save it. Other injuries were too well concealed by his leather gear so I'm not sure what else might have been wrong, but it has to be extensive. Full face helmet, heavy leather jacket, blue jeans, sneakers. On a sport bike. They don't call them zoom-splats for nothing.

And all on my next to last day in uniform.

Mac

I think I might have made a good actor. No, really. Why do I think that? Well, I can remember my lines. Really, really, really remember my lines.

An example you say? Okay, here's just one.

"I'm not very old, and I'm not very bold,
But I'm brave enough to say.
We wish you a merry Christmas,
And a Happy New Years Day."

That, my doubting friends, is from a Christmas program put on when I was in Kindergarten, and those were my lines. I was five years old and it was the first half of Kindergarten, in Odessa, Texas, as the second half of Kindergarten was in St. Louis, Missouri. No program in the second half.

All kidding aside, I'm not really sure why I've remembered that all my life. That was sometime around 1961 I believe, so it was quite some time ago. I remember rehearsing my lines with my mom when we lived at my grandmothers house in Odessa while dad was attending Army boot camp at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. At some point I remember my grandmother taking us three kids into a bedroom and asking us if we wanted to stay with her, or go with our parents when they left to go to dad's next assignment with the Army. The other two kids were really too little to know one way or the other what she was talking about, so she was essentially asking me. I told her I wanted to go with my mom and dad, and she never treated me well ever again after that. You only got one chance with my mom's mom, and if you didn't live up to what she wanted, you were pretty much personae non grata after that.

First grade in Austin, Texas after that, and then second grade in Eminence, Missouri while dad was in Greenland, of all places. I remember that year JFK was assassinated. I was too young to really understand what was going on, and the implications of it, but I knew folks around me were mightily upset and scared, so I was scared, too.

Seems like folks are still scared today.

Mac

It has been a while since I posted in here. I managed to stub my toe at work a while back and the penance came due last week. Have to admit, it was my own fault, can't blame it on anyone else, and I was quite depressed last week to say the least. So, I didn't post on this blog, didn't even leave the house, and kind of just waited it out. This particular incident was what caused me to realize I was done, and needed to retire, because my heart just wasn't in it anymore.

Then today came. All debts have been paid, all is forgiven, and today went exceptionally well. I attended the retirement ceremony the Sheriff has each month for those that are retiring that month and it was so well done. He read a bio of each deputy, sergeant, and the captain that are retiring this month. We were each awarded a Sheriffs challenge coin, a nice plaque, a signed copy of our bio, as well as the retirement badge and I.D. of a retired peace officer.

It was such a good day. Friends of mine were able to get to this particular ceremony, even though it was a last minute deal that I decided to attend. I wish I'd been able to give family enough time to be there, but it was not to be. But it was such a good day. Before the ceremony I took my badge to a jeweler I know and he cleaned it up and shined it a bit, and it looked spectacular. Got my uniform pressed and all ready and it looked really good. Hopefully the pictures they took will turn out well, I'll be glad to have them and display them.

6 more days and I'll be completely retired from the Sheriff's Office. I'm on vacation, comp time, or holiday time till the end, and then I'll technically be a civilian, for the first time in a long, long time.

Man, it was a really good day today.

Mac

In the morning I go to work for the last time I am scheduled to work a shift. I am still employed till November 30th, but tomorrow is my last scheduled work day. The rest is vacation, comp time and holidays.

Right at 35 years of wearing a badge and carrying a gun for a living. I'm afraid I'm not going to be very useful for anything else, but I'm going to go out there and see what I can find. 35 years of being expected to be more than human, always aware that more is expected of me than of others. Knowing that every single mistake, no matter how small, will be seen as an indictment of all police. Knowing that every single contact with a member of the public could result in a complaint, or a civil suite, or in a fight from low level wrestling with someone to get them into handcuffs, all the way up to fighting for my very life. Knowing that there are people out there that would love to kill a police officer, or harm his family, just to get back at the "system" they feel has treated them unfairly.

People always scoff at us when we explain how dangerous our job is. "Oh, but there are other, more dangerous, jobs out there" they'll say. "Loggers and fishermen, and others get killed all the time" they'll say. I always ask them, "Do the logs, or the fish, or the sea, come to them and try to kill them?" Their deaths are from mother nature, equipment failure, freezing seas they fall into, or chain saws that break or buck and kill.

Our deaths are from other human beings pointing weapons as us and pulling the triggers. Our deaths are on purpose, not on accident, although accidents do happen. People plot and plan to kill the police. People put pieces into place in order to kill a police officer if they are caught doing whatever it is they don't want to be caught doing. No log ever stalked a logger. No log ever hid behind a building in ambush for a logger. No summer storm ever waited just to sink a fishing boat.

Apples and oranges.

So far, I've never had to shoot anyone, nor to kill anyone, in any manner. Neither in my police career or my military career. I've come so close before that it still shakes me up even today to think about the instances where I was leaning into my shotgun and squeezing the trigger, anticipating the recoil and preparing for the consequences, when a suspect finally heeded my orders to drop their weapon at the last, possible, moment. Happened far too many times, with either shotgun, patrol rifle, or handgun, to suit me, but I never had to actually fire. I thank God for that. While always prepared to do so, I have never been one to wish it would happen. I've known those who did wish it to happen, and I found them to be no one I wanted to hang around. Trouble on the hoof. Disaster waiting for a place to happen.

I am happy I've never had to kill, especially when the general public sometimes seems to think that's all we want to do, get the opportunity to shoot someone. Far from it, we don't want to at all, if it can be helped.

My philosophy of police work was to be as nice to people as they would allow me to be. To be as respectful to people as they would allow me to be. To be as helpful to people as they would allow me to be. In other words, if you came in contact with me, YOU set the tone of how the encounter was going to go. If you were civil, I was civil. If you were an ass, I was much, much better at it that you were. Trust me on that.

Mac

It got a bit chilly today, and is supposed to be even cooler tonight. This area definitely goes kind of crazy when it gets anywhere around freezing, like they lose their minds is what. I don't know, I'm going to go visit some places where it actually gets cold, and gets snow, at least for a little while. I'm no huge fan of the cold, or of snow, but I like to visit it once in a while, lol.

The best snows I've ever seen were in Germany when we lived there, followed by New Jersey when we lived there. Those near three years in Europe definitely stand out as far as getting snow goes. We got so used to it in the Boy Scouts that we rarely even used tents, and I've woken up several times covered in a two inch layer of snow on my sleeping bag, and was still snug as a bug. Once we were camped out in an old castle and woke up to a tour walking through the area. Freaked them right out as we started to wake and sit up, still in our sleeping bags. That was one of the best laughs we had.

I remember the New Jersey snow because of the sledding I think. We lived in the housing area of a very small base and it was on a hill. It was great for sledding and we had those saucer sleds then. Nearly broke our damned necks but it was fun. The ONLY thing in New Jersey that was fun the whole year we were there. Hated that place for the most part. Oh well, you have to be somewhere, lol.

Mac