Have you ever been.......

scared? Really scared? The scary movie type of scared....but you can't shut it off like you can a movie. The type of scared where your common sense and your brain tells you you're being stupid.....but the rest of you just screams.....GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE! All your instincts tell you that this is DANGEROUS and for you to flee but you try and pass it off as an over-active imagination.

I've read that we humans have a built in .....radar..... for lack of a better name right now. We don't rely on it like we would have had to if we were lower down the food chain and lived in the wild, so we have basically dismissed it and we don't pay attention to it anymore. Big mistake! I always try to listen to my "radar". I, of course, will never know, but I do think its saved me a bunch of times. One time at a spooky RV campground comes to mind......ewwwww....gives me the creeps just thinking about it. But that was one of those "you had to be there" type of stories and wouldn't make for good reading. However.....this one will.

This is another police story. How much more safe can a person be, you ask. Inside a police station with help only as far as the pressing of a microphone key. In the front of the building a fireman sleeps peacefully but is ready to respond at the mere flick of a red button on your desk. A person should be pretty secure. Should is the key word here.

Our little police station is located about 10 miles from the main "big" jail. We had a holding cell and sometimes there would be as many as four or five in there, awaiting transport to the jail. If they had bond coming, we wouldn't bother taking them down there....we would just accept their bond and release them from our site. As a dispatcher, it was one of our many duties to monitor the prisoners in the cell. This was before closed circuit TV was installed, so we had to physically walk back there and check on them every 15 to 20 minutes. What a pain! The male dispatchers didn't get much lip, but us females sure did. I've had more propositions and more insults levied at me than the average woman, that's for sure.

This one midnight shift, which had been pretty quiet by evidence of the empty holding cell, my officer radioed that he would be checking out a subject sitting in the middle of the five lane highway that went through town. Sitting.....crossed-legged, in the center turn lane. Its a wonder he wasn't run over but then again.....maybe even the cars were afraid. The subject was brought in and placed in the holding cell. He did have a warrant out of another department but he was definitely a couple sandwiches short of a picnic....either that or he'd taken some drugs and was zoned out. We never could tell which it was....sad to say. The officer put him in the cell and left. Now I am alone with this......guy. True the fireman is asleep up front but really.....I'm not going to wake him up to babysit me. I've been doing this way too many years.....watched way too many prisoners. The first time I check on him, he's sitting in the corner on the floor looking like Jack Nicholson looked at the very end of the movie, The Shining.....that "look" on his face. Chills went up my spine as I went back to the dispatch center. It was more than a little unnerving. Then I heard it. It sounded like there were 3 or 4 people in that cell. The guy was talking to himself and answering himself in different voices. You would have sworn that there was a bunch of people back there. I even went back and looked again just to make sure! I guess I could have put up with that except the one voice was Satan. He identified himself as such and it was pure evil sounding. It made all the hair at the back of my neck stick out, it made me almost freeze in terror. I tried to talk myself out of it.....told myself I had watched too many scary movies.....but the guy kept it up and it was terrifying. The things he said were terrifying and I wanted him OUT of there.

Well, of course the officers got busy and no one could come back for a while. I advised over the air that I'd like them to make this transport.....they asked if he was giving me trouble. Well, no, I couldn't say that he was.....cause he was only talking....in all those voices!!!!! The devil included. I knew I would forever be teased by the guys I worked with if I let them know just how scared I was.....so I hid it and put up with it for about 2 hours. I think I can honestly say that is the scariest experience I had ever had and I know it doesn't sound like anything in writing....but trust me, it was horrifying. It made me have a lot of respect for what some psychiatric nurses and attendants have to be around on a daily basis for their severe cases.

Yes....I know, I know. A lot of us pay good money just for the thrill of being scared. We read scary books and watch scary movies and TV programs......but we can always put the book down, shut off the movie and walk away and do something else if it gets too intense. Real fear is not like that. I hope I am never frightened in real life any worse than what I've just written about. Matter of fact, that one experience should do me for my lifetime, thank you very much. I don't need to be scared again period.

And even though I'm an old lady, I still walk a wide circle to avoid clowns.....I don't like them....they give me the creeps and I've always felt that way. I never let my children any where near them. I can't tell you why either.....its just that "feeling" I get and I'm not about to ignore it.

Anybody have some good true life scary stories they want to share? I know ya do.....we all do. LOL

Big Anticipations.....

A whole lot of years ago when I was dispatching, the Township let the State use the Township garage as a distribution point of tree seedlings. People had signed up weeks previously to pick up a designated amount of them which they would, in turn, plant. It was and is a good thing for our environment. Most of these people were new to the program and signed up because they wanted to do their share in helping to replace trees.

The time to distribute was set up for a Sunday morning because it was felt that would be the least busy time since the Township offices were closed. Nothing was open but the police and fire departments. It was my shift that Sunday morning and one of the officers on duty and I watched with keen interest as people started coming into our back parking lot. They were coming in droves and coming in big rigs. Dump trucks, stake trucks, pickup trucks, vans and station wagons with huge trailers. Each of them would report to me and ask where they could pick up their trees. Most of them were picking up 250 but some were picking up 500 or more. They would ask if they should back their rigs up to the garage door to make loading easier. Stifling laughter, we would advise them to check in at the garage first before they moved their vehicles. We watched as they walked into the garage and came out carrying a flat with all 250 trees in it; this flat could easily fit in the trunk of an ordinary car.

As time went on it became more and more ridiculous, then it turned into hilarious. The officer and I could barely contain ourselves with each huge truck pulling in. After a while we felt almost......but not quite.....ashamed of ourselves. We tried so very hard to maintain ..... to at least offer some semblance of professionalism but we would collapse in gales of laughter after each person went out the door and headed toward the garage. We held our sides as we watched them get back in their huge rigs with only a small flat in their hands. The looks on their faces was absolutely priceless. Oh I know it was an honest mistake. When you hear the term, 500 trees....you immediately think BIG.

Its been 30 some years since that happened and I still smile a crooked little smile when I think about it. Whenever I see that same officer and ask if anyone needs to pick up any trees we both burst out laughing. I've often wondered how big those trees are now if the poor little things survived. I'm in no way making fun of the people who plant trees for our environment or for any other reason.....God Bless them. I'm just making fun of the situation......I guess its one of those things where you just had to be there to get the full extent of how funny it all was. It sure did put smiles on our faces for a very long time.

This must have been hilarious.....

from someone else's vantage point. From mine.....not so much.

As my long-time readers know, I worked for law enforcement for 25 years. During the first half of that time I was a dispatcher for police as well as fire. Police business is more serious than not and whenever the mood can be lightened up, the guys try very hard to do so. A lot of practical jokes take place behind the scenes.

Now, like most women, I am afraid of spiders and snakes. I can take a spider pretty much in my stride.....but not a snake, no matter how small it may be. To say I'm deathly afraid of them is a gross understatement to be sure. I don't think one of our officers realized just how deep that fear ran when he decided to make me the target of his latest joke.

I live in Michigan and our only poisonous snake is the Massasauga rattlesnake. Although the bite is very painful, its rarely fatal like its cousin's, the Diamondback. You still have to seek medical attention for it though. It loves living around swampy wet areas but will sometimes come up around your home just to check things out. One of our officers killed one that was on his patio and brought it into work to serve as joke fodder.

He coiled the snake up to make it look like it was in readiness to strike and put it in the top desk drawer in the dispatch center. All the officers knew we kept pens, pencils, rubber bands, paperclips and notepaper in that drawer. I was coming on duty and when you begin your shift you have to get pertinent information from the dispatcher leaving as a lot of calls overlap. My attention was on getting that information. One of the guys asked me for a paperclip. I opened the drawer, reached in without looking and handed him a paperclip. Another guy then asked me for a rubberband. I did the same thing....all without noticing the snake. Finally, one of the guys asked me for some white-out correction fluid, figuring I'd have to look for that. He was right. I was losing patience with all the interruptions at this point and plunged my hand into the drawer but this time I was looking. My eyes took in the snake, sent an urgent signal to brain, which said Holy Crap....SNAKE....stop your hand! I don't remember anything more until they were helping me up from the corner across the room where I was crumbled up in tears, apparently having left a trail of bodies in my wake.

That officer apologized profusely over and over. He kept saying he had no idea I was so afraid of snakes....but he had to admit I put on quite the show. I did take note that all the other officers, including some command, were nearly doubled over in laughter. He said he'd never seen anyone move so fast. Just wish I could remember it.....and actually wish I could have seen it happening ....... to someone else. I bet it WAS funny. We're both retired from the department now and I never did get to pay him back for that.....even though I thought about it a lot......and, as you can see, I'm STILL thinking about it. I could just never find his weak spot.

Black bear.....or not

First I will give you a tiny piece of history. Before retirement, I worked as a police and fire dispatcher and Sunday mornings were always very quiet and very boring. Sometimes we would hear from people, who although we doubted their sanity, we always had to check things out Many calls would give us a chuckle, and if it happened on a Sunday morning....well, it just was a bonus to break up an otherwise quiet day.

I will also tell you that its 40 degrees outside today, with showers and very windy.

So back to the present and the topic of my post. My daughter and her family live about a mile and a half from me. They live in a subdivision. It would not be described as "country" or even "rural" anymore....its the suburbs. About a year ago they started noticing a herd of deer coming through there. Sometimes there is only a couple and sometimes as high as 15 of them at once are walking around in the yards of the subdivision residents. Its a mystery where these deer come from. They sail over fences like they weren't even there. My granddaughter has gotten used to seeing them and also knows better than to go outside when they are around.

This morning she was looking out her bedroom window and suddenly started yelling to her mom that there was a black bear in the yard between their house and the house next door. What? My daughter rushed over to the window and looked where she was pointing. Sure enough....there was something big and black and it was moving. The bushes and trees kept her from getting a good look and she was afraid now to go outside. So she calls me. What do I do, what do I do. The old man next door might go outside with his little dogs and that bear will attack him. Do you know his phone number I ask. No, she says....I barely know his name....he's not sociable. She says I'll call the guy across the street and see if he knows it. Then she says, I'm going to call the police.....but I don't want them to kill this bear.

So while she calls our local police, I call the County, hoping to get ahold of Animal Control....even though I figured that, with all the recent budget cuts, on a Sunday they would be closed. Animal problems are not supposed to take place on the weekends.....we all know that! The County dispatcher had that tone in her voice that said "oh brother...I've got one that's missing a few cards".....but she humored me. ....and passed me off to our local department. I then called the department where I used to work and got ahold of one of my old co-workers.....actually, I trained him. I told him what was going on and asked if they still kept the list of DNR volunteers. They do and he gave me some numbers. Thank God I didn't have time to call them before my daughter called back with the end of the story.

The neighbor she called across the street went outside and looked over and he saw it too....so he went back in and called a bunch of other neighbors. They were coming out of their houses and going across the street to get a good view; some of them had long guns. By now our local police sent ONE female officer to check it out. My daughter was near panic by this time.....so afraid that this bear was going to ravage a dog or worse yet, a person who may just be going for a walk. She went with the officer to the location only to discover......a huge black piece of plastic that the old man next door had used to cover his woodpile....probably in anticipation of all the rain that's in the forecast for today. (heavy downpours) The strong wind was moving it around, had billowed it out and the bushes concealed enough of it that you couldn't really tell WHAT it was, other than big, black and moving. My daughter felt like a fool....she apologized over and over. The officer laughed and said that it was ok...."its SUNDAY and besides that it gives me something to tell my kids and future grandkids. This is a happy story". Then she looked down in the snow and said....''are these deer tracks?". Yep, my daughter says....we have all kinds of them that come through here. She said, "I can see that....I'm surprised".

I guess my little granddaughter figured.....if deer, why not a bear? She really did believe it was a bear. You just never know anymore. My first thought was that maybe one had escaped from a circus....we have traveling circuses that come through in the winter and set up INSIDE at the stadium that isn't that far away. The thing that struck me though is that we've encroached on wildlife so much....built up their natural habitat, taken their homes away.......where are they to go? If it really HAD been a bear, what would have happened then? I fear it probably would have been killed. I know we have coyotes here now and we never used to.

Anyway, I feel like a fool too. I called my ex co-worker and told him the details. He was laughing so hard he could hardly contain himself. Remember what I said about Sunday mornings? Anyway, I said.....now, Marty, this stays between just us at work and he said....ah yeah....sure...right. (gales of laughter). Oh boy....I'm in for it now. Anyway, it sure did liven up Sunday morning for more than a few people. Black bear, indeed!

Guardian Angels like bubble gum too.....

Here's another "Frank" story. It was a relatively quiet day, not much had happened to make it memorable in any way. I remember it was cold outside and even though the sun felt warm and inviting through the windows, snow covered the ground. I was dispatching that day. Frank was back in the report writing room, putting the finishing touches on some reports before heading back out to patrol the area one last time before his shift ended. Its funny the things you remember when thinking back on stuff. I remember that Frank loved bubble gum and he was chewing some that was aqua in color. Frank was very confident and self-assured; he sort of had that demeanor like Fonzie of Happy Days, although he didn't look like him. A black leather jacket was part of his police uniform though as he was part of the traffic detail. Years before he had been part of a team when he was with the big city and they had to be perfect in their dress. Not one wrinkle, not one hair out of place, shoes and leather shined to the max. The gum was his only "vice", if you want to call it that, although it was not against any of our rules and regulations.

All of a sudden the outside vestibule door opened and this woman ran in, hysterical. In her arms she held a little girl, who was about three years old. Neither mother or daughter had on coats or shoes. The little girl was limp in her arms and blue in color, obviously not breathing. This young mother lived about the distance of a little over one city block from our station and she had swooped up her child and ran barefoot out of her house in all that snow, through our back parking lot and in through our doors. She had been feeding her daughter and suddenly she had stopped breathing....probably something caught in her throat.

I had to hit a buzzer to unlock the inner door to allow her entry and I did that at the same time I yelled for Frank. He came immediately out of the report writing room, took one look and instantly assessed the situation and took charge. I remember he took the child from the mother and laid her on the floor checking her airway as he did so. At that time he also reached in his own mouth and I saw the aqua gum go flying. Frank performed CPR on the hallway floor and in less than a minute the child was crying and getting her color back. Frank gently lifted her off the floor and handed her to her mother, someone else grabbed a coat to cover them both.

I'll never forget the look of gratitude on that woman's face as she was handed her very much alive, scared and noisy child.....a sound that was, no doubt, music to her ears. She was driven home in a patrol car, the front door of her house still standing wide open. She later took her daughter to her doctor for a checkup and was assured that all was fine. Oh....and we never did find Frank's gum.

As a requirement of our job, we all had to take CPR training but, thankfully, I never had to use it. Frank took it all in stride....just another day in the life of a cop. You never know what's going to happen from one minute to the next and through all that commotion Frank still looked perfect and would have passed big-city inspection with no problem.

You don't tug on Superman's cape.....

Today when I read one of the blogs that I routinely visit, the post reminded me of a story.

This is about the small town police department again....but maybe 5 years after I first started there. One of the large cities in our State had done a massive lay-off of officers. We were hiring two more officers so we benefited by getting in some really experienced men who were not afraid to relocate so they could have a job. One of these men had all sorts of extra tactical training and experiences that our guys only dream about. I will call him Frank because he just sort of looked like a Frank to me. He was calm, cool and collected and the other guys looked at him as a mentor. His abilities and techniques were something to behold. He liked small town living and actually moved his family out there and never planned on leaving, even if the big city did call him back to work. He had taken the lives of 3 men in the call of duty in the big city, but Frank could not shoot an animal, no matter what.

Well, a cat showed up at our station one day. He was fully grown and had the greatest personality. Frank loved animals. He had two cats and two dogs at home already or he would have taken the stray in. As it was, we each took turns bringing in food for this cat that we ended up naming Murphy. The computer monitors were warm and that was one of his favorite places to lay and take his cat naps. He mostly came around during the afternoon and midnight shifts when the 'brass' was gone and was great company for us dispatchers. He had full access to the building and fit right in. He had been spotted by the chief on occasion and the chief had voiced his opinion that the cat needed to be kept out of the building. Murphy knew he was not liked by this man and deftly avoided him.

One night we had something big happen....what, I can't remember now, but the 'brass' had to be called in because the press was going to be there to take comments and it would be broadcast on the news. When he (the chief) came in, he nearly stepped in cat poo that was positioned right in front of the chief's closed office door. (tug, tug) The angry and red-faced chief ordered one of the dispatchers to call Animal Control immediately and have them handle the problem. We found out later from the janitor that Murphy often left his calling card right in front of that office door but the janitor always saw to it that it was cleaned up before anyone else saw it. I will say that the dispatcher (not me) did call but Murphy conveniently was nowhere to be found when they arrived so they left a cage and said for him to put Murphy in it. Days went by and the cage sat there empty. The janitor, on orders from the chief, caught Murphy one day and put him in the cage. Murphy "somehow" managed to get out by jiggling the latch. (ahem...Murphy must have been the only cat alive with thumbs) He soon was caught again and this time he was transported to the local dog pound.

We were all upset but really hoped that someone would see what a great cat Murphy was and would take him home. He only had three days to charm someone into doing that. We were calling the place two or three times a day, asking his status. Now Frank just happened to be on vacation when all this was going on and when he returned he was told and quickly said that he would take Murphy and give him a home rather than see him put down. Frank had to start his shift and time was running out. So one of the office girls and I took an extended break and headed for the dog pound to rescue Murphy. His time was ticking away, only 2 hours left.

We found the place and went in the part where the cats were and couldn't believe how many cats looked just like Murphy. We had to go from cage to cage, talking to each one of them and finally he spotted us and showered us with a chorus of meows to make South Pacific pale in comparison. They extended "professional courtesy" to us and we were able to spring him without any money changing hands. I was the one who drove and I'll tell you, you haven't lived until you've driven 20 miles in a vehicle with a cat who is loose and obviously has an immense hatred of riding in said vehicle. He was wild-eyed and jumping all over the place; I think he even sprouted an extra set of legs, complete with claws....it took me months to get all the cat hair out of my car.

We finally arrived back in many pieces....at least it felt like that. Frank took Murphy home right then and that's where Murphy stayed until he died of old age TWENTY years later. So, even though Murphy had the satisfaction of pooping in front of the brass's door, his vindictiveness almost cost him dearly. Somehow I have to believe that Murphy didn't really care.....and he'd do it again if he had the chance.....he was just that kind of guy.

Some old memories.....

I haven't talked about Big Al in a long time; not since this post anyway. I did promise more stories about him so I'll tell this one.

Our tiny little department only had 2 officers to a shift back in the days when I first started working there. Everybody pretty much knew everybody else and the regulars (constant complainers), we knew their names, addresses and phone numbers all by heart. The restaurant and diner owners, as well as bar owners were on the same first name basis. Think Mayberry.

We had a restaurant at that time that served the best fish in the world....as well as the best deep fried onion rings. On Friday nights Howie (the owner) who was also the cook, knew that we would be making a fish run. We'd call in the order and then the patrol car would slip around to the back kitchen door of the place and Howie would hand out the fish dinners. We didn't get them free....we had to pay like everyone else, but I'm sure he gave us an extra helping since we couldn't avail ourselves to the "all you can eat" policy.

Big Al would make the fish run and come back with the fish and onion rings along with the best tartar sauce you've ever had. We would chow down at the station, getting ourselves fueled up for the Friday night rush that would start around 9 pm and continue until 4 in the morning. The usual drunken brawls and domestic disturbances always kept us busy.

Big Al went to check out a call of a suspicious vehicle that was sitting in a field not too far off the roadway. When he looked inside he was shocked to see a priest in full dress. Not only that but the good "Father" was inebriated enough that he had trouble walking. Big Al had never come across this before and didn't exactly know how to handle it. Since the vehicle was stopped, not running and off the roadway, he really couldn't be arrested for drunk driving, even though we knew he had driven there. Big Al also knew that the Chief (his boss) was Catholic so he decided to just lock up the car and bring the Father into the station. I was a bit surprised to see him walking in with a priest....not just any priest but one that looked like he stepped straight out of Boy's Town. He even had the Irish accent and gray hair. The Chief made a special trip into work and they went back into his office. After a while another priest arrived and took the good Father home. No tickets were ever issued and Big Al said that was his "Get out of hell free" card, but I suspect the Chief may pull rank on him.

Big Al's partner, who reminded us of Barney on Mayberry, had some fears. He feared all birds, for example. He especially feared chickens. They decided to play a trick on him one day and got a live chicken from somebody and tied string to its leg and put it in Barney's locker just a bit before he was due to come on duty. When Barney came in, we all held our breath as he opened his locker and the chicken came flying out. Poor Barney....he jumped about 3 feet in the air and honestly danced around the room like he was on fire, his eyes as big as saucers. The chicken was equally scared I'm sure. I'm also positive that ordeal aged Barney at least 10 years.

Yep, you had to have a sense of humor to work at this place. I also had stuff hidden in my desk drawers while there, but those stories can be for another time. Our little town has grown and its no longer like Mayberry and I miss that. People who live in those small towns may sometimes feel like the world is passing them by, but they are so very lucky to be living life at a slower pace. I'm glad I had the chance to experience it.

Rural Town Problem-solving.....

I was thinking about how so many things have changed in every segment of our lives. Some changes were blatant and drastic, others more quiet and subtle, but they were changes nonetheless. Sometimes changes are good…..but sometimes the old ways were better.

Before retiring, I worked as a police and fire dispatcher for a small rural town. After many years at the radio, I then worked as a DB secretary, eventually finishing up as Administrative Secretary for the entire department. The radio years were the most stressful but they were also the most interesting.

One of our officers, Big Al, who was as big as his name implied, always carried a .44 magnum on his hip. Big guy, big gun. (picture Jackie Gleason) He smoked big cigars and had a wickedly wonderful sense of humor. I think Big Al had been with the department since its inception. It being a small town, you know most of the residents by first name and it seemed like Big Al knew everyone. Not quite Mayberry, but pretty close. And….yes, we did have an officer that resembled Barney Fife. Those stories will be for another time.

Every weekend, this elderly couple who lived in the south end would hit the sauce and then get into an argument over something stupid, which would escalate to the point of one of them calling the police. Since it was a “family fight” type call, two officers had to be sent. The officers would go in, referee or listen to each of their complaints, and basically act as marriage counselor and then leave with everyone being happy until next weekend when it would start all over again. This one particular weekend, Big Al was running from call to call like mad. It surely must have been a full moon because we were busy. Sure enough, in came the call from the old folks, arguing as usual. As soon as they were available, I sent Big Al and another officer. When they cleared the call in a surprisingly short few minutes, you could hear the chuckle in Big Al’s voice. I got the story when they came in to the station.

Big Al had told his partner as they exited their vehicles outside the old folk’s place that he was going to do something to get these people to stop calling like this and to play along with him. They knocked at the door and were invited in. Right away, as usual, both of the old folks started talking at once, each pointing the finger at the other. Big Al cleared his throat and took out a cigar. He put it in his mouth and lit it, blowing a nice smoke ring into their living room. All the while, the old folks were still talking at the same time, getting louder by the minute. Then Big Al slowly unsnapped his holster and removed his gun, which was impressive, I kid you not. He held the gun, pointed at the ceiling and cleared his throat once again. By this time the old folks had stopped talking and were looking at him with wide eyes. Big Al said, in a very matter of fact way, “you know we’ve been coming here for years every weekend and the chief has decided that you two just are never going to get along, so I’m going to have to shoot one of you. Which one is it going to be?” You could have heard a pin drop as they both instantly sobered up. They then assured Big Al that things were fine and he could leave….really, he could….they were fine….as they quickly ushered him and his partner to the door Big Al slowly returned his gun to his holster and said, “ok, but remember what I just said”.

We never had another complaint call from those people. Maybe some won’t see the humor in this, but I do. It goes to show you that sometimes a little rural, small town justice in the way of a bluff is just the thing to solve a problem.

An officer today could never get away with this. There would be lawsuits and internal affairs investigations and disciplinary action taken. Even in this same small town, which has had its population tripled in the last 25 years, changes have been implemented so that if a police officer just pulls his gun, a full report has to be written. Big Al would be going “humph” over that. I think now he’s basking in the warm sun somewhere, loving his retirement. God Love ya, Big Al, and thank you for finding a way for those old folks to appreciate each other for the remainder of their lives.