As I wake up this Tuesday morning during National Police Week, get my coffee and settle in front of my computer, I’m inundated with negative information about police. I received a hateful email from a man who claims he’s just trying to save lives, but his logic is that more dead cops equals less dead civilians, so killing cops equals saving lives. I just shake my head. A person I know on Facebook shared a map that allegedly reflects all “police involved deaths” since January 2014 and shows 1,500 people “killed by police.” Of course, the map includes every traffic fatality where a police vehicle was involved too – and in many of those it was the dead driver’s fault, not the cop’s. But that’s okay I suppose… right? It’s not misrepresenting a statistic. It’s just implying that cops have killed 1,500 people in 17 months and criminalizing police officers in general for the sake of pursuing ratings. I just shake my head…
As I type this, my wife just left for work and I have to wonder whether or not someone will attack her today. Will someone target her simply because her vehicle has license plates identifying her as a member of the Fraternal Order of Police? I never used to worry about that, but these days it’s becoming more and more obvious that police are being targeted for no other reason than that: they’re police. How long until that becomes redirected at their families? After all, criminals don’t stop to identify a target; they senselessly attack any seemingly weak or vulnerable victim and then boost their egos with the success of violence.
As I type this, we’re in the midst of National Police Week. 117 officers gave their lives in the line of duty last year (2014). Tomorrow evening the Candlelight Vigil will be held and the names of every officer who made the ultimate sacrifice last year will be read. Their surviving families will sit in the audience, surrounded by the law enforcement family, and still try to figure out how they’re going to move forward without that husband, wife, mom, dad, brother, son, sister, daughter…
The conglomeration of all of this slaps me in the forehead as if I’m in a vegetable juice commercial. What’s missing? Why is there so much hatred for a profession where people sacrifice their lives to save others? Why is there no appreciation for the sacrifice and risk that police officers accept every day? Why do so many seem to think that being a cop is “just a job” when it’s really a way of life more dedicated than any other?
It dawned on me that maybe… just maybe… people don’t have an understanding of what’s involved. Maybe people don’t realize cops are human too. Maybe people don’t view cops as people but merely a badge and a uniform. When I was growing up, that badge and uniform automatically meant the person wearing it could be trusted to be helpful and kind. It NEVER meant that the person would be a sucker though; it NEVER meant the person would be a victim. As kind and helpful as that person could be counted on to be, if I decided to attack him, that badge and uniform also meant I was assured to lose that fight – as I should since I was in the wrong in the first place.
So, what makes cops different? What makes the profession more than a job? What makes it a lifestyle? For all that, what makes us any more or less human?
I don’t know that I have the answer, but I have some observations about us being human.
We’re human too…
We are not superhuman. We are as vulnerable as every other human being on the planet. In spite of that, we accept risks every day as we do our job protecting and serving.
We bleed. Whether the wound is from the knife a suspect is using to try to kill us or scraping our knuckles as we change a flat tire for someone, we bleed.
We bruise. Whether the bruise is caused by the punch or kick of a bad guy or the can of soup that falls out of a grocery bag onto our foot as we carry in someone’s groceries, we bruise.
We cry. Whether the tears are caused by the loss of a brother cop or the joy of a cop’s family adding a new member at birth, we cry.
We ache. Whether that ache is caused by a public verbally and physically attacking us in spite of the sacrifices we make or by the fact that we’ve been away from home for most of the day and circumstances will keep us away for an unknown number of hours yet to come, we ache.
We hunger. Whether the hunger is caused by too many missed meals as we answer calls for service or by donating our lunch allowance to someone who needs it to survive another day on the street, we hunger.
We celebrate. Whether we’re celebrating the accomplishments of a brother/sister cop or the good and charitable deeds of our community, we celebrate.
We run. Whether we’re running after a criminal who is running to avoid arrest for his crimes or we’re running to stay in shape because we don’t know how ugly the next fight will be, we run.
We laugh. Whether we laugh at a joke someone tells us or we laugh at a situation because the only other response is to fracture emotionally and break down in uncontrollable tears – and we’re not allowed to do that in public… we laugh.
We mourn. Whether we’re mourning the loss of a brother/sister cop or we’re mourning the loss of a community member who had a positive impact felt all around them, we mourn.
We fatigue. Whether it’s physical and caused by working sixteen hours (or more) in emergency situations or it’s emotional and caused by exposure to too much pain and suffering all around us, we fatigue.
We sacrifice. Whether it’s the sacrifice of simply going to work every day not sure we’ll make it home at night or it’s hugging our family good bye and swallowing the guilt we feel every time we do it, we sacrifice.
We do good deeds. Whether it’s a small thing that makes a single person smile, or a big act that gets the oh-so-rare public acknowledgement, we do good deeds.
We make mistakes. Whether it’s a small mistake on a report or a big mistake that gets hugely blown out of proportion by someone trying to make a name or make a buck, we make mistakes.
We fight. Whether it’s amongst ourselves (as all brothers do) or with a criminal who is resisting arrest or violently attacking us, to simply stay alive, we fight.
We preach. Whether it’s to a driver we’ve pulled over for going twice the posted speed limit or to young children about the dangers of drugs, we preach.
We comfort. Whether it’s comforting the small child whose pet frog died, or comforting the adult child of a deceased elder, we comfort.
We suffer in silence. Whether the suffering is caused by unavoidable circumstance or it’s caused by a public that condemns us in spite of all we do, we suffer in silence.
We’re always on duty. Whether we’re in a uniform or not, working a scheduled shift or not, or out with our families for a fun afternoon at the mall or movies, we’re ALWAYS on duty.
We can’t every truly relax. Whether we’re sitting down to eat a meal, walking a beat, or out grocery shopping, we can’t ever truly relax.
We accept that. Whether we like it all the time or not, whether it causes us stress or not, whether it causes stress for our families or not… we accept that.
We continue on. Whether it’s because we took an oath or because we simply know no other way of life that appeals to us, we continue on.
