The natural cynicism of a big city copper meant when one got too much enjoyment out of something it had to break down, go bad, get ugly.
Tragedy struck the police family again and again, all around the country, Oakland, Seattle, Lakewood, Pittsburgh, heck everywhere, I suddenly felt my spirit go numb.
Going to work lost it's beauty.
This was a horrible experience.
The spirit, the beauty, of being a copper is what made it all worthwhile.
Every copper, deputy, officer, five oh, po po, detective, marshall, whatever you guys and girls call each other, knows what I mean.
The job can become a wicked ugly thing.
There has to be a sense of purpose, a love of the street, a craving for the adrenaline rush, for a good copper to survive the years and years of grief it takes to collect the pension.
Without a true love of the spirit and energy it takes to make the job the fulfilling vocation it should be, the evil can take over and ruin a copper's soul.
Fortunately, good friends, good coppers, and good sense revealed the demon to the light.
People noticed the Big City Copper blog was dormant. Questions where asked. "Where are you? Why are you so silent?"
You gotta love those friends that noticed these things and cared enough to say something.
I still love the job, just not so much any more.
The pension light is visible and not so far off in that tunnel.
I know now that I'm leaving the police world in 18 months or so. I'll be maxxed out in pension, wisdom, and spiritual effectiveness.
I'll miss it but health and sanity is a beautiful thing too.
For now though, I'm back.