Page 489 - NIXBOOK

I picked up my mail at the post office instead of having it delivered to my mailbox; I met too many mail theft victims to ever
even think about having a mailbox out by the road.
I know that there are a lot of mentally unbalanced crazy people out there - way more than the average citizen would ever even
suspect. Crazy people who just wander down the street and break into random houses for no good reason and assault people
for no good reason or steal cars for no real good reason – THAT kind of crazy. They are out there. More than you know. Mostly
because your local media and press do not publish everything that every police officer responds to. If they did, and if you saw
just exactly what is going on near where you live, you’d be amazed. For example, newspapers don’t report suicides. Do you know
how many people have killed themselves in your city or town or county in the past year? I can guarantee it’s way, way more than
you’d guess.

Being a police officer for so long even off duty I could not help but glance down the usual alleys and side streets and parking lots
and trails when I was out driving, and because I chased so many running shoplifters that to this day, even off duty, when I see
somebody running across a parking lot I am conditioned to get an instant adrenaline hit, like a retired greyhound dog out for a
walk that suddenly sees a squirrel running to a tree.

When I sat down in a coffee shop or a deli or fast food place I’d tend to prefer the corner seats so if somebody really weird walked
in, I’d see him before he saw me. Google: “2009 Lakewood Shooting.”

So I think you get the general idea. Despite all that, I actually never carried a gun off duty for self protection. Or my badge, in a
special wallet. I figured I never needed to. And guess what. I was right. On the day I retired, I received a special ID card that
proclaimed I was now a Retired Police Officer. I didn’t like the photo they had used of me so I slid the card back across the desk
and said thank you, but I hate that picture and I don’t need a retired police ID card. The HR lady was shocked. “But everybody
wants one! You need it to carry a gun, don’t you?” I told her that I only had a pistol and a rifle, and since both belonged to the
PD I turned them in and I was now an unarmed citizen, with no plans to get a gun of any kind. And so why would I need an ID
card that said I was a retired cop? The IT guys who printed the card offered to do another one with any other better picture I
had but I never got back to them, because I didn’t care enough. Yet another sign that I was more than ready to retire, clearly.

So I’m retired now, off on other adventures that have nothing to do with police work. Shortly after I turned in all my police gear
and equipment and passed my patrol car keys off to a newer officer, I realized with some bemusement that I did not miss my
old job at all. After about a month, I modified that realization by replacing my wonderment to a more declarative assuredness
that I absolutely did not miss any of it. When I saw police action out in public, not even then did I feel even a slight twinge of
longing to get back into it; I just looked over at the cops yarding another heroin junkie out of his car in the Walmart parking lot
and I thought “Well you guys have fun with that one, and thanks for keeping us safe,” and then without a second glance I went
on with my business. So at least I wasn’t ever beset with doubt or regret, unlike a lot of old timer cops I knew who had to be
forced out kicking and screaming after 30, 35, or more years. Those guys couldn’t imagine a life outside police work, and some
of them were still sad about having to leave for quite some time afterward. Me? Nope. Not at all. I was glad to be done with it,
which I guess was a pretty good sign that I was done with it all. I told a fellow officer afterward it was like leaving the military
service. We were glad we did it, it was kind of fun sometimes, but no way we would ever want to subject ourselves to that again.