We were waiting around before roll call the other day and, as coppers do, started to talk about the "old days." Coppers love to talk, especially, about the good times.
The stories were, properly embellished, funny as could be. Of course this led to the gory tales then the sad ones.
That's the trouble with opening up the memory vault, one never knows what will be stirred up. For me it was a pleasant mish mash of everything....
The early days of running and gunning before they thought of making the police account for their ammo.
The amazement of listening to white Irish guys speaking and understanding ghetto jive like it was their first language then reverting back without missing a breath.
Trying a pig ear sandwich one day, a jew town polish the next, then a bowl of menudo the day after that.
Giving good looking girls a ticket you can see them again in court.
Catching a wanted suspect then hearing him complain that I had violated the "code" by going after him on Sunday when he was walking his mother to church.
Seeing your first murder victim, then becoming jaded after ten or so.
Realizing what a bunch of liars police sometimes have to be to solve a problem.
Finding humor in the strangest places.
Finding out there are good honest people living full decent lives under the most trying circumstances.
Finding ways to help these good honest people whenever possible.
The real thrill of making an arrest that actually solves a crime and seeing the victim or the family happy.
Feeling the pain of loss when a fellow officer is hurt or killed.
Remembering how the number of officer's killed dropped dramatically after the city issued body armor.
Laughing about how, instead of bragging about women, we now discuss the last good meal we had and whether it was free or half price.
Meeting the president.
Realizing how much fun it is being the police.
Here are some leftover pictures from various episodes.
Against my own rules I posted my I D picture. I am second from the left in the first photo and in the background of the last one.