A policeman is a composite of what all men are... a mingling of saint and sinners... dust and deity. Cold statistics wave the fan over the stinkers...underscore instances of dishonesty and brutality because they are news. What that REALLY means is they are exceptional, unusual - not commonplace. Buried under the froth is the fact that less than one half of one percent of policemen misfit that uniform. And that's a better average than among clergymen.
What is a policeman made of. He of all men is at one the most needed and the most unwanted... a strangely nameless creature who is "sir" to his face... and "pig" to his back.
He must be such a diplomat that he can settle differences between individuals... so that each will think he won... But if the policeman is neat, he's a flirt. If he's not, he's a grouch.
In an instant he must make decisions which require months for a lawyer. But if he hurries, he's careless. If he's deliberate, he's lazy. He must be first to an accident... infallible with a diagnosis... he must be able to start breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and above all be sure the victim goes home without a limp, or expect to be sued.
The police officer must know every gun... draw on the run... and hit where it doesn't hurt. He must be able to whip two men his size and half his age....without damaging his uniform and without being brutal. If you hit him, he's a coward. If he hits you, he's a bully.
A policeman must know everything and not tell. He must know where all the sin is and not partake.
The policeman must, from a single human hair, be able to describe the crime, the weapon and the criminal.. and tell you where the criminal is hiding. But if he catches the criminal he's lucky... if he doesn't he's a dunce. If he gets promoted he has political pull. If he doesn't he's a dullard.
The policeman must chase bum leads to a dead end and stake out ten nights to tag one witness who saw it happen, but refused to remember.
He runs files and writes reports until his eyes ache to build a case against some felon who will get dealed out by a shameless shamus or an honorable who isn't.
A policeman must be a minister... social worker... a diplomat... a tough guy... and a gentleman. And of course he will have to be a genius, for he will have to feed a family on a policeman's salary.
Author Unknown
The little girl walks down the lane
As a breeze whispers through the trees,
Arched over the dusty road
protecting her from eventual rain.
A caterpillar inches through the dirt
As she bends down to watch
Touching itıs furry softness
Taking care that it not be hurt.
So white, so sweet,
Daisies line the road.
Beside a carpet of fallen leaves,
Which lays still in the summer's heat.
Shadows in the fields across the way
Of clouds floating softly by.
Crickets in the grass sing sweet melodies
yearning for a longer day.
To make their winterıs nest
Starlings gather moss
They fly aloft to trees up high
Where they finally come to rest.
At the thought of summer's fold
Her little smile fades.
But summerıs memories she will keep
In her tiny heart of gold.
Halsey
To Be Tender with the Young,
Compassionate with the Aged,
Sympathetic with the Striving,
and Tolerant with the Weak
and the Wrong.
Sometime in Life, you will
have been all of these.
Author unknown
With the wind in my face,
For that time, for that ride,
Then I was back down on the ground
For the ride, years didn't matter
The least I can do
Debra Littlejohn (Shinder) 1991
and the world racing by,
and my arms 'round your waist,
I was sure riding high.
It was over too soon,
but I'll do it again
some night in some dream,
where the ride never ends.
I was finally free to fly
on the Gold Wing of an Eagle's song,
we touched the nighttime sky.
and like a bird, you'd flown,
but I rode the wind, again and again
in my mind, on the long ride back home.
and fears didn't get in the way.
The cares of the day just faded away
and for once, I was satisfied.
is thank you
for the ride.
I love the night, when everything is quiet and the creatures who aren't seen by day come out to play.
I love the wolves, the way they roam,
I love the eagle when she flies,
I can heal you.
Don't you know if you let yourself go
Debra Littlejohn (Shinder), 1992
I love it when the moon shines on my hair; I never did care too much for the sun.
In my heart, I love the ones who love the dark -- I hear them when they call to me;
I love to watch them run.
without a home but not alone.
I love the way their voices join
in mournful, joyful harmony.
I love the songs they sing to me
about a love that's always wild and free.
the way she knows she owns the skies.
I love her prey, the way it cries
for worlds and times it never knew
and things that it will never do
and there is something wild and free inside of me
that loves what's wild and free inside of you.
Let me feel you touch the part of me
that's still in touch with what is wild and free.
There always has been something in the heart of me that can't be satisfied with this mundane reality,
something deep inside that cannot hide
from what will always be my destiny:
the thing that's wild and free inside of me.
and feel what's real here in the dark,
I could cut the chains of pain
that bind your mind and confine your heart - but first you must believe in things
you thought could never be;
first you must believe in fantasy.
And then you have to dare to share
the dreams you thought could not come true.
First you must trust in what's in me
and in what's wild and free inside of you.
As I held him close,
I could see the whites of his eyes,
He cried no more
Cry not my friend,
You're safe and well,
Robert Lightfoot (as written in the C.O.P.S. magazine)
I began to cry
Wondering and hoping,
our friend would never die
as he held me tight
The wind wisped through his hair
as we saw the light
as we fell to the ground
His one single tear,
Would never be found
God will take you on home
The Angles in Heaven
shall not be alone
as a child to his mother
You will always be remembered as...
OUR FALLEN BROTHER
Violence is all about touching; not the longing, friendly or loving touch, but the short, sharp blow, delivered with power so as to cause maximum hurt. This is the worst trait of all exhibited by the human race. Nothing - except perhaps, love - causes so much pain and destruction. Nothing generates so much suffering, not only for those on whom the violence is inflicted, but those around the victims or even those who just witness the act directly or second hand. How different it could be if, instead of a short, sharp blow we delivered a caressing touch.
Unfortunately, my friend was wrong; we do touch each other enough, just not in the right way.
Garry Neesam
P. Platt
We remember the officers who changed our lives,
We remember the officers who always stood true,
We remember the officers who we never really knew,
Brad Miller
The men and woman who protected us day and night,
People who respect for their dedication to the cause,
For when faced with danger, they never even pause.
Whatever the color of uniform, brown gray or blue,
With pride and integrity they say "To serve and protect",
For the giving of their life, we offer our respect.
Persons strong enough to answer the challenge are few,
With heavy hearts we mourn the officers in eternal rest,
There's more to these people than the badge on their chest.
"In the line of duty," I hear them say:
My family now the price to pay.
My folded flag stained with their tears;
We only had those few short years.
The badge no longer on my chest,
I sleep now in eternal rest.
My sword I pass to those behind,
And pray they keep this thought in mind.
I never dreamed it would be me,
And with heavy heart and bended knee,
I ask for all here from the past:
Dear God, let my name be the last.
Sgt. George Hahn (LAPD-Ret) - Carved on the base of the Police Officers Memorial in Sacramento California.
Together we will conquer all obstacles,
And search out those who might wish harm to others.
All I ask of you is compassion,
the caring touch of your hands.
It is for you that I will unselfishly give my life
And spend my nights unrested.
Although our days together may be marked by the passing of the seasons
know that each day at your side is my reward.
My days are measured by the coming and going of your footsteps.
I anticipate them at every opening of the door.
You are the voice of caring when I am ill.
The voice of authority when I've done wrong.
Do not chastise me unduly for I am your right arm,
The sword at your side.
I attempt to do only what you bid of me.
I seek only to please you and remain in your favor.
Together you and I shall experience a bond
Only others like us will understand.
When outsiders see us together
Their envy will be measured by their disdain.
I will quietly listen to you and pass no judgment,
Nor will your spoken words be repeated.
I will remain ever silent,
Ever vigilant, ever loyal.
And when our time together is done and you move on in the world,
Remember me with kind thoughts and tales,
For a time we were unbeatable,
Nothing passed among us undetected.
If we should meet again on another street,
I will gladly take up your fight,
I am a Police Working Dog and together
We are guardians of the night.
Found in Texas K9 Association Magazine (author Unknown)-Submitted by D. Nelson
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
Author unknown
Submitted by: Bob Dent
Her patience forgives
dinners spoiled
sleep interrupted
parties she goes to alone.
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