Shiny shiny, shiny shoes of pleather

Yes, those are my shiny shoes. My honor guard shoes, all shined up and ready for action.

I wore them tonight to post colors before the graduation ceremony for our department's latest citizen police academy. We marched out, I barked out commands without any gibberish flowing from my lips like it does in the nightmares, posted the colors, and everyone said the pledge of allegiance. I understand the crowd was impressed.

The last couple of days were filled with honor guard stuff. One of our retired officers, a great cop and a great character, died this week and will be waked and buried this weekend. He retired a few years before I got hired; I worked with both his nephews, and know his son who's a commander in a nearby department. A few years after his retirement he came back to work for our department as a civilian. He worked as a community service officer--one of those guys who come out when you're locked out of your car, or someone's dog won't stop barking. He never really stopped being a cop though.

Back when I was a detective, and he was working as a CSO, he saw someone sitting in a car across the street from a bank and thought the guy looked funny. Not "ha ha" funny, but "hmmm" funny. He walked up to the car to ask the man if he needed help (this was his story, anyway--I think he really walked up to the car because he thought the guy looked suspicious, just like he would've when he was on the job years earlier) and he noticed what appeared to be a fake beard on the passenger seat, with what looked like a gun underneath it.

He backed away from the car and called for a beat car. It was a fake beard, it was a gun, and the man in the car was planning on robbing that bank. A regular person would've driven by that guy sitting in the car and not looked twice. The bad guy gave a full statement, got charged, and ended up going away for a few years.

I once saw a picture of this man from the mid-70's, taken by a reporter during a brawl as he dragged away some hapless mook. He was a badass: stocky and tough. In the time I knew him he was skinnier and older, somewhat stooped and wisened, and loved his smokes and his beer.

Anyway, I'm on vacation starting Thursday, and I can't participate in the honor guard for his wake on Friday. In the three years that my department has had an honor guard this will be the first time I haven't been there to run a detail. It feels strange. When we got done with the citizen police academy tonight I went over the particulars of posting a silent guard at the wake with a couple of officers who'll be doing it on Friday. I did my best to make sure they are prepared, and passed on a list of instructions for the sergeant who'll be running the detail.

The reason I'm on vacation is that this weekend is MizBubs' early Thanksgiving celebration for her brothers and their families. We've done this for a few years now. Everyone assembles here, we end up with about 20 people on Saturday for a big dinner, we hang out all weekend, and then a few of us run in the Lincolnwood Turkey Trot on Sunday morning. It's a good time. We have a heck of a menu planned, too. Maybe I'll write about it later.

So, as of right now, I'm on my own time Jack. It feels good.

I hope all of you have good things planned for this weekend, and are surrounded by people you love.

Memorial Day

In an hour I'll be going to work. Our honor guard has been invited by our local VFW to participate with them in a Memorial Day ceremony at our veteran's memorial. It is an honor.

One of the vets mentioned, candidly, that many of their members are getting too old to carry rifles or flags, and march. There are fewer of them, and it doesn't seem like veterans of the current conflict, or the Gulf War, have joined groups like the VFW at the rates that WWII and Korea vets did. Anyway, like I said, it's an honor. The VFW will present the colors, and our police honor guard will fire a rifle salute.

I'm always deeply moved, and mournful, on Memorial Day. I wish I were better with words; maybe then I could successfully convey the depth of my gratitude to our veterans, and the sense of loss we should all feel on a day like today. The Department of Defense, so far, has confirmed 3,441 deaths of American service men and women as I write this. There are 14 more reported deaths pending Department of Defense Confirmation.

This is what I wrote last year:

Memorial Day is there for a reason

I'll end this post the same way I ended that one:

I'll fight the urge to make an angry political statement here, and just ask that anyone who reads this spend a quiet moment, or say a short prayer, for the families and friends of the people who've given their lives for us.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

—By John McCrae