Chris is tall and his grey hair, parted on one side, complements his blue eyes as if it were dyed to match. He looks like he could be Ted Kennedy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s son, and when he told me his mother knew Ted, I thought, okay.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t need much, a couple 1×8\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s of quarter-sawn white oak.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n
As Chris punched the keypad of his calculator, multiplying board feet by price, I asked, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do you remember old time radio?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He paused and looked at me quizzically, as if the fifty years had to be traveled in real time. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153The Shadow, Ellery Queen, Dragnet, Sam Spade.\u00c3\u2013. I bought a three CD set from Willow Books, and now I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get out of my truck. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, we were TV watchers.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153How old are you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Fifty-one; my brother, Mark, is fifty-three.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He and Mark run this business, a hardwood outlet. Suppliers ship rough cut lumber which is then dressed to order in the brothers\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 mill.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That was the beginning of TV. You would have listened to the radio.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153The only thing I remember was the Dickens tale on WBZ. They played it two years in a row on Christmas Eve. It helped me get through the nightmarish night before Christmas Day.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve never heard anyone call it nightmarish. Exciting, over-stimulating.\u00c3\u2013.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Maybe I exaggerate, but we could never fall asleep, thinking about presents waiting under the tree. Once my mother gave us sleeping pills.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sleeping pills. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d be afraid to imagine what they might have been.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You know, I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even know if they were sleeping pills. Could have been anything.\u00c3\u2013.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Placebos.\u00c3\u2013?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like aspirin. That was the only time she gave us something to sleep. I wish I had asked her what they were, but I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think she would remember.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153My mother would. She remembers everything.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not mine. She had late-in-life depression which affected her memory, and she had electroshock therapy.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153This was before Prozac?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s only seven years ago. There is a small percentage of people those medications don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t work on, and my mother was one. They contain speed, or something like speed, and it made her agitated. Instead of depressed and lethargic, she was depressed and hyper. But don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think of mad scientist electroshock.\u00c3\u2013.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know. My wife works at McLean.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It made my mother feel much better, but the side effect is it erases your memory. Not long term, but your short term memory.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
What is it about me that gets people to reveal this stuff? I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d even tell a friend my mother had electroshock. I could have gone on, but I changed the subject. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are those your girls?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Portraits of two high-school age girls, both redheads, hung on the wall behind Chris. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No. They are Mark\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s, which means they are my nieces. The one on the left is sixteen and a half, just got her driver\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s license.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Uh oh.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d My father worried when we got our driver\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s licenses, and even with safer cars, that worry was passed down.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And she had a fender bender.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153As did my son, Matthew, not long after he got his license. It seems to be a rite of passage.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153She was driving in the snow. She slid right through an intersection.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Matthew has done that, too, without running into anything.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153But she uses the snow as an excuse.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Let me guess. She said she was driving soooo slowly.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153But not slow enough.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s as though teenagers have established a minimum speed, below which they won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t go, and if they have an accident, it is not their fault. Was she alone?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153She was, but she doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t pay much attention to the law about not driving with other kids for six months.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t pay attention? Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you tell her not to?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We compromised. That is one law very few kids obey. I told her if she drives with kids it can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be at night and she has to be extra careful.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That is your compromise? Think about the cops that stop her. They don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t compromise anymore. There is no longer any we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll-make-sure-they-get-home-safely stuff. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s all leg irons and handcuffs. I hate the rigid world Matthew inhabits.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get me started on that. We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve lost control of our police departments.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a great way of putting it. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s all punitive.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I could see my morning disappearing inside this two-room building. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We could go on and on, but I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve got to get back to work.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
***********************<\/p>\n
My day\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s project was to add connecting side rails to an antique head and footboard. I had the matching lumber, now all I needed was the hardware to connect the pieces. Next stop, my local lumber yard.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mr. Miller!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Jim.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What can I do for you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I need bed rail hardware.\u00e2\u20ac\u2122<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have any.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Jim is sixty-two, has a lived-in body and acts at work as he might at home. He is so pleasant and so casual, I expect him to pop a slice of pizza in a nearby microwave and offer me half. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve known Jim for years and have learned that he is divorced, has two sons, and a daughter and two grandchildren. He claims his job killed his marriage. Or should I say, his jobs. For the last twenty-four years he worked two: one behind a desk, selling building materials, and the other, evenings and nights, patrolling the streets as a town cop.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Okay, forget the hardware, tell me more about your two jobs. I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t wrap my brain around the lack of sleep thing, and even worse is the space issue.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like outer space?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Inner space. When I get home after work, I kick my dog, my wife and my kid in that order. You don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t go home, you go to another job. What do you kick?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Remember, I was doing two entirely different things.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jim ended the sentence with a lilt, as if the change in tone added emphasis. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, yeah, that would do it. Go from your day job to your night job, the one where you carry a gun. And this is on how many hours of sleep?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Four, but never all at once. And you know, it never bothered me. My doctor couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t understand it either, but he said I was so healthy, to keep on doing what I was doing.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Here\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a question for the old time cop in you. I was talking to Chris down the street, just before I got here, and we both agreed we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve lost control of our police departments. Nothing is settled in a friendly fashion. Like the old days. You remember the old days.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You mean domestic disputes?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, we were talking about driving…but, yeah. That too.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t anymore.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t what anymore?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Walk away from a fight. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the liability. If I walk into a situation, I own it. From the moment I arrive, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s on my shoulders. If I leave and someone gets killed, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m in trouble. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t stop the fight, dust your hands off, and say goodbye?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No. If I get a call and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a couple, one of them is going in. No matter what, and I have to decide who. I got a call once and it was a woman beating her son. She had pulled the glass and wooden shade off a ceiling fixture, smashed it on the floor and was hitting her kid with the wooden slats. She said she was trying to teach him who was boss. I had to take her in.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153So you go from child abuse to, \u00c3\u00abI don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have bed rail hardware?\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 No stops at Jim Beam\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house, let alone your house?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t drink, and that lady hitting her kid is far from the worst. I had a seventeen year old point a gun on me. He kept me at bay for forty minutes.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And then what?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153He put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chris is tall and his grey hair, parted on one side, complements his blue eyes as if it were dyed to match. He looks like he could be Ted Kennedy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s son, and when he told me his mother knew Ted, … Continue reading