Every story needs an ending

I've moved on from writing about my life. I guess it's only fair to the few who actually were interested in my stories to close the chapter properly. I've been thinking about doing this for a while but, life seems to get in the way of things that rate less important then others. You know how it is.

I still work for the same department. A lot of smaller changes have come about and in a lot of ways it's a better place then it was just a few years ago. Of course, it's not without it's problems. There are still things that bother me tremendously that could be solved with something as simple as terminating an incompetent, uncaring, vindictive, unstable employee. I'm told there's paperwork in to do just that in this case. I don't know how valid that is, I only hear back channel chatter. The relationship and trust between the patrolmen and the supervisors still isn't there. It's a slight bit better, but still severely lacking.

About a year and a half ago I was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance for what I thought was a heart attack. A thousand tests later and multiple visits to multiple specialists offices and I was told I experienced a panic attack. Not a run of the mill panic attack, but a 10 on a scale of 10, terror driven, heart racing, shock inducing incident. All the years of acute stress, constant shifts of hyper-awareness, and general unhappiness had caught up with me and manifested itself in the only way my body could figure out how to deal with it - anxiety. I can't begin to tell you how upsetting and scary that time in my life was. I've never dealt with anxiety in this fashion and I didn't want to be forced out of my job and be a pill popping zombie.

I was lucky enough to find a great doctor nearby who had worked for a number of years with the state police hostage negotiators and tactical units. He knows what police work is, the dirty underbelly of society that people pretend doesn't exist. I'm thankful to have met him and continue to see him periodically. With his help I was able to get a good hold on the anxiety, and all without taking a single medication. Aside from a few close friends at work, they don't know my issue and my doctor has promised me he'll keep it that way.

I also don't think I would've been able to do it without the love and support of my wife. Yeah, I didn't see that coming either, haha. But she's the woman of my dreams and the best thing to ever happen to me. I won't go into too much about her, since I need to protect her identity here as well.

So that's basically it. Hopefully that gives you some closure if you've been reading all these years and still care. So, as I ride off into the sunset, I'll leave you with this: Treat each other well, enjoy the little things in life, and be thankful for what you have, every single day.

All the best,

~Moe

Mmmm, waffles.

This is for Beat and Release.


I've made waffles on two non-consecutive occasions.

Blast from the past

It's a small world. I ran into a girl I had a crush on in the 4th grade the other night. Back then, I professed my love, and she and her friends made fun of me. Bitches.

Jamie now works as a 911 dispatcher in a nearby city. She was the most popular girl in school up through high school, but time hasn't been kind to her. She's looking a little "rode hard, put away wet" if you catch my drift.

After exchanging pleasantries and the whole "what have you been up to" routine, she asked if I wanted to grab a drink sometime after work. "Nah, I'm good," I told her. It's funny how things work out sometimes.

By the way, I've updated the music in the sidebar player. Just hit the play button.

Little old lady

I was standing near the wrecked ford, the victim of a motor vehicle accident, shooting the shit with one of my partners. The accident wasn't too bad. One person went to the hospital with very minor injuries and having completed our interviews and notes, we were just waiting for a hook to cart away the disabled vehicle.

Now, it's a common thing for people to walk up on you and ask you stupid questions while you're obviously far too busy to be bothered with them. You can be on a felony traffic stop, with guns drawn and someone will inevitably stop and say "Excuse me, do you know the fastest way to Cleveland?" even though you've never been to Ohio and are 2,000 miles from damn state.

Anyway, a little old lady slowly made her way up the sidewalk towards us and in a sweet, soft voice, asked if she could bother us for a minute. Not really doing anything important, we said sure.

"I know that you're busy, but my husband retired from XXPD and my son is an officer there. Whenever I see an officer, I stop him and give him one of these."

She reached into her purse and from a bag pulled two small laminated cards with a police officer's prayer and handed one to each of us.

"I want you to know that you're doing a good job and I'm proud of you. God bless you both."

We thanked her, shook her fragile little hand, and she walked away. Both myself and my partner, who usually have a smart-assed comment for everything, were speechless. My partner finally broke the silence.

"Wow."

"Yeah," I replied.

It was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for me in uniform. I'm grateful and I don't think I'll ever forget it.

Idiocracy

Today, I was more or less accused of fixing tickets. My own tickets. That I issued.

After embarrassing the superior officer in front of other subordinates(You want to come at me publicly, I'm going to come at you publicly), I told him the next time he came at me with an accusation like that he'd better have solid proof or a damn good attorney. Who's got two thumbs and is on the command staff's shit list? This guy.

I'm not sure what made me angrier - The fact I was being accused of being dirty, or the fact that this person is a supervisor. The very first thing that popped into my head was this:

"Can you believe that fucking retard is in charge of people?" sums it up pretty well.

No good deed...

This is pretty much the story of my life lately:

It seems like each rising sun brings another heap of crap to throw on the already towering pile and for the life of me, I can't figure out why. If I have to donate/go to one more "Officer needs assistance" benefit for hurt/sick cops, I'm liable to eat my own gun. This rash of good people getting screwed up by shitheads and contracting all these diseases has got to stop. The community lost another brother yesterday; someone I knew.

I'm starting to believe that it really doesn't matter if you do good or bad. There's no reward and there's certainly no justice.

No sympathy

"You hear who got shot?"

Believe it or not, this isn't the first time a conversation started this way.

"Jimmy."

Jimmy is a pain in the ass absolute scumbag who my department is constantly arresting - larceny(shoplifting), breach of peace, disorderly conduct, threatening, public indecency(masturbating in public), risk of injury to a minor, simple assault, etc, etc, etc. In fact the last time I picked him up, he was crying that I wasn't processing him fast enough because he had to be at the courthouse in fifteen minutes from the last time we arrested him (FYI - He didn't make his court date. Oops!). We keep picking him up, and the court system keeps being lenient, slapping him on the wrist and letting him go.

Anyway, a "masked man" shot him in the leg yesterday in broad daylight a few towns over in a high drug trafficking area. It's a pity they didn't aim higher but this type of injury is usually indicative of owing someone something, like a drug dealer.

Alas, Jimmy is recovering in the hospital and, I can only assume will be back on our radar screens soon enough.