Pet Peeve

Pet Peeve: Cruising along the highway, doing the speed limit, when all of the sudden nothing but brake lights ahead. I slow down to under the speed limit. I wonder what could be causing the slow down. Up ahead, on the side of the road, is a patrol car. No lights, no accident, nothing. The car is just sitting there. Why is everyone braking? If these cars aren't speeding why the need to slow down? Guilt is my guess. They must be regular speeders who watch for police cars. I have never feared or felt guilty seeing a police or patrol car. My dad drove one.

Dad emailed me the rest of his 1970 Christmas letter. I wanted to share another portion here. Dad was 31 at the time, mom 30, I was 8. My siblings were ages 6, 9, and 11.

"Kathleen says the time has come for me to reveal what I've been up to the past year. Life seems to revolve around my work schedule, which can be day shift, night shift, and a combination of the two. I have been working on the road as a patrolman for the past 16 months. I never dreamed that I would ever get to work on the road. I always wanted to be a policeman, but when I didn't grow tall enough to meet the height requirements, I gave up the idea. Now, here I am working along with the six-footers. I may be the smallest patrolman on the highway patrol, but there are a few others not much bigger. We peewees are known as the mini-patrol.
Sometimes, I wonder why I ever left the cool/warm, depending
on the season, comfort of the radio room. While sitting
overlooking the Salt River Canyon, watching the river below,
and inhaling the cool, pine scented air, I am grateful for
having been liberated from the four walls. On winter nights,
while carrying an injured or dead person out of a canyon, I
wonder why I'm not back in that nice comfortable radio room,
sipping a cup of coffee between radio calls.

People tend to make my job interesting. You meet the good
and the bad. You meet them at their worst and their
best. You get to help them when they need help the most. The
disabled motorist is glad to see you, but the violator wishes you
were in some other county. I could go on about my job as I find it
fascinating, but I'm going to leave it here."

For anyone who might be a guilty-braker, thought it would be fun to read the thoughts of a patrolman.

I laughed at the next part of dad's letter:

"Being church treasurer keeps me busy a couple evenings per
month. I sometimes wonder how I ever managed to acquire the
job. Bookkeeping never was high on my list of aptitudes. The
congregation certainly must have a lot of faith."

Dad wrote more, but I figure that is enough for one post. It brought back such fond memories of my dad. He did mention special training he'd been doing for upcoming demonstrations. I don't recall what the commotion was about, but do remember the extra protective gear he had to wear at that time. It was a time of demonstrations turning into riots and complete chaos. Seeing my dad in his uniform, I saw the strong protector. I felt safe, knowing my dad was watching out for us.

Dad is retired now. He no longer wears a uniform, protective gear, or carries a gun. But he continues to be a strong protector of our family and others. His weapons are not visible, except when he's on his knees.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!