A Christmas Eve Thought

 

As we meet this morning, it being Christmas Eve, some thoughts relating to this day invaded my mind during the weeks leading up to this day.  I’ll start with a message from 3 Nephi, which reads:

“And it came to pass that in the commencement of the ninety and second year, behold, the prophecies of the prophets began to be fulfilled more fully; for there began to be greater signs and greater miracles wrought among the people.

 

But there were some who began to say that the time was past for the words to be fulfilled, which were spoken by Samuel, the Lamanite.

 

And they began to rejoice over their brethren, saying: Behold the time is past, and the words of Samuel are not fulfilled; therefore, your joy and your faith concerning this thing hath been vain.”

 

Perhaps you were expecting angels to come down and leave messages of glad tidings at this time; however, it only gets worse for them as we read...

 

“Now it came to pass that there was a day set apart by the unbelievers, that all those who believed in those traditions should be put to death except the sign should come to pass, which had been given by Samuel the prophet.”

 

Try to imagine yourselves going home after today’s meeting, having hope in your hearts, all the while realizing that it might well be your last day in mortality.  Would you be hanging your stockings on the fireplace awaiting Saint Nicolas’ visit or hanging your head wondering why the Lord’s prophets had let you down?

 

Remember, have faith in the Lord, regardless of your circumstances. 

 

“Now it came to pass that when Nephi, the son of Nephi, saw this wickedness of his people, his heart was exceedingly sorrowful.

 

And it came to pass that he went out and bowed himself down upon the earth, and cried mightily to his God in behalf of his people, yea, those who were about to be destroyed because of their faith in the tradition of their fathers.

 

And it came to pass that he cried mightily unto the Lord all that day; and behold, the voice of the Lord came unto him, saying:

 

“Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfil all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets.”

 

Within this short message important lessons are left, we’re reminded…the Book of Mormon was written for us in our day.  We’re to learn and appreciate the history of an ancient people; but why, on this day?

On the other side of the world a similar message was given:

Angels visiting the earth to greet poor shepherds as they watched their flocks by night as found in Luke 2:10 and 11. 

“Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord”.

It’s the same message given to Nephi, the son of Nephi, when his heart was exceedingly sorrowful. 

So, here we sit on Christmas Eve, eagerly anticipating the celebration tomorrow brings.  Tomorrow is Christmas Day, the meridian of time as acknowledged by even non-believers. 

“Woke crowd” historians would have us use their updated version of “BC” and “AD”, calling those years prior to the birth of Jesus Christ “BCE”, or Before Common Era and all years following as “CE” or Common Era.  The wicked continue their efforts to erase the miracle of Christ’s birth from the hearts and minds of the world.

Believers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ look forward to the Second Coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  The scriptures have indicated all manner of signs alerting mankind of the “Great and Dreadful Day of the Lord”, many of which have already appeared.  And yet, the wicked continue, laughing at foolish believers who follow “signs given and warnings from Prophets”. 

As we observe and point out their abominations… they create laws which make it illegal to point out their abominations, calling such language “hate speech”.  Those guilty of offending the wicked are vilified, some are even charged with crimes and taken to courts where corrupt judges rule against the righteous…or am I mistaken.

My friend Gary Lewis wrote the other day, “The signs of the times surround us with witness that the latter-days are upon us. All the prophecies are being fulfilled.”  He included a quote from LeGrand Richards from April of 1951:

“If the inhabitants of this earth had the ability and the power to read the signs of the times, they would know that already the Lord has given far more than the darkening of the sun or obscuring the light of the moon or causing the stars to fall from heaven. For what he has accomplished in the establishment of his kingdom in the earth in these latter days, and the unseen power operating in the world for the accomplishment of his purposes, are greater signs than any of these phenomena that we read about—the signs of his coming." 

 

My message to all of you on this Christmas Eve, be of good cheer, have Joy in your hearts.  Be true to your beliefs and continue being faithful to the covenants made with your Father in Heaven.  Along this same line of thought, our Prophet, Russell M. Nelson, in his talk, “Joy and Spiritual Survival”, given October of 2016 reminded us,:

“When the focus of our lives is on Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”

We celebrate with great joy the birth of Jesus Christ; being equally aware of his death, resurrection and the atonement made on our behalf.  We also look forward with great anticipation and joy to His return… with the same faith as our ancestors were looking forward to His arrival the first time.

As I finish my thoughts this Christmas Eve, I wanted to share something from an old movie, The Bishop’s Wife.   At the close of the movie, the Bishop, having been reminded of the true meaning of Christmas, finished his sermon:

“…All the stockings are filled, all that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to have it up.  The stocking for the child born in a manger.  It’s his birthday we’re celebrating.  Don’t let us ever forget that.

Let us ask ourselves what He would wish for most.  And then, let each put in his share, loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched-out hand of tolerance. All the shinning gifts that make peace on earth.”

As surely as Jesus Christ was born so many years ago after signs in the Heavens were observed, so surely will the signs be fulfilled announcing the Second Coming of our Savior, even Jesus Christ.  

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

 

Max Might be a Shepherd Dog

Yesterday we loaded up a box with plates of homemade Christmas Cookies to share with friends living in the Centerville, Texas area near our property.  We started off with Ron and Norma Jeanne Fillmore since they live the farthest.  We had a great time chatting, paying attention to their dog who was demanding attention.  Then, on the way back towards Centerville we stopped at Sister Haven’s property, then at Sister Webb’s office.  Mike and Su Wallrath were the last we could visit there in Centerville, having spent the morning and much of the afternoon delivering cookies.

We then turned the truck towards those who live within a mile or so from our property.  As we drove past the entrance to our property we noticed our neighbor’s dog, Max, sitting by the gate.  Max likes to make sure we park properly, leading us joyfully down the driveway; but we didn’t turn into the driveway, instead we headed to the Jackson’s house.

I should mention, the Jackson’s are Max’s actual family; but Max has dual citizenship, not sure what else to call it since Max likes living under our roof too. When we pulled onto the Jackson’s property, there was Max sitting under the carport; he’d taken a shortcut by cutting across the acreage that separates our properties.  We visited with the Jacksons and then drove, as if to go home; but instead turned the other direction towards the Nells and James’ property.

Max first started to head to our place; but it was almost funny watching him try to figure out what we were doing.  Maybe he thought we were lost; but he made sure to keep up with our meanderings as we pulled into the next driveway to visit Dennis James and deliver another plate of cookies.

On the way back towards our property we noticed the younger Jackson family had just arrived home, so we stopped to visit there too.  Max sat at the edge of their driveway, frustrated once again with our inability to find home.

Lastly, we headed past our property to check the mailbox and see if the Clarks had gotten home.  We got lucky and were able to deliver their cookies as well.  No mail in the box, so we headed back as if to go home; but we noticed the gate to the Finley’s property was open, something that indicated they were available to visit.

Max sat on the road while we visited with Tammy, going over local issues about the dumpster company that kept adding charges to the monthly fees we’d already paid in advance for the entire year.  We agreed that the dumpster company had lost us as a customer.

Max must have given up on us as we watched him slowly walk down the road headed to our property.  About twenty minutes later, having finished our visits for the day, Max greeted us at the edge of our property as he energetically pranced in front of the truck, making sure I followed to where my old truck normally sits next to Lucy’s car.

If Max were a person who kept a diary, an interesting thought, it would be fun to read yesterday’s entry.  “The Stern’s got lost several times; but they finally were able to get home with my help.”

Of Course, We Trust Our Government

 

While scanning headlines this morning this image jumped off the screen, begging to be explained. 

It’s not that I don’t trust our government to be upfront and honest… No, they have proven beyond a reasonable doubt that those currently in power will do anything they can, legal or not doesn’t seem to matter, those in power will do anything they can to eliminate the voice of anyone who gets in their way.

If you like or don’t like former President Donald Trump makes little difference.  What should bother individuals in our Constitutional Republic is the weaponization of government agencies, silencing opposition by censorship, using tax laws to bankrupt businesses or businessmen that don’t conform to the leftist agenda tied to ‘climate change’.

This isn’t something which belongs solely to the American leftists.  To be sure, the agenda springs from a much more sinister group of elitists on a world-wide scope.  The One World Order folks, call them whatever you wish. The One World Order folks desire to eliminate the United States of America as a Constitutional Republic along with our Rule of Law and Individual God Given Rights included in the Bill of Rights.  There’s enough in this one paragraph to write an entire book, a detailed warning of the evil intent being displayed; but that’s too much for today.

Donald Trump has been criminally charged, and convicted by the leftist media, of trying to overthrow the government, allegedly, by inciting huge crowds to storm the Capital Building on January 6^th of 2020.  If you’ll recall, that was the day Congress was supposed to have an open discussion, followed by a vote, on the validity of questionable voting during the Presidential Election, a process which unexplainably determined Joe Biden being installed as the winner of the Oval Office.

You don’t have to be a Rhodes Scholar to look at the information gleaned, comparing what’s been released by the major news media outlets (propaganda stations owned by the far left) with information that’s miraculously found its way into the light of public discussion via unbiased sources…(wow, another run on sentence)…for a reasonably sound and questioning individual to come to the conclusion that there’s something Rotten in Denmark.  Forgive the use of an old saying which identifies treachery, treason, and sabotage due to voting irregularities which may or may not have been properly investigated by our trusted Federal Bureau of Investigation and Department of Justice, those Sterling individuals whose work is always to be accepted without question.

I shouldn’t have to include a paragraph, go look all this stuff up since it’s easily available via live Congressional and Senate interviews,  explaining substantiated and factual accounts which prove the FBI lied to a Federal Judge to obtain the illegal warrants which were used to wire tap Donald Trump even before he became President.  That all the ‘trumped up’ information had been supplied by the Democrat Party and his then Presidential Opponent…you got it, Hillary Clinton.  That the DOJ hasn’t lifted a finger to charge any of those co-conspirators, those who attempted to eliminate Donald Trump as a Presidential Candidate.  Aren’t these the same folks who have admitted to censoring conservatives, called conservatives domestic terrorists and imprisoned individuals who questioned the results of elections and then come up with the ‘trumped up’ criminal and civil charges against Donald Trump?

Would it take a Rhodes Scholar to determine the intent of these oh-so righteous representatives of our government simply want to interfere with the next Presidential Election Process by making it difficult, near impossible, for Donald Trump to properly run his election bid?  It’s much more difficult to campaign when a corrupt judge places a gag order on you.

How about a corrupt judge and prosecutor conspiring to withhold evidence which they know would vindicate you and be sufficient to have all criminal charges thrown out? 

Call this pure speculation on my part, my knowing how transparent those in power have been up until now, always being truthful when asked to present a case against individuals whom they don’t agree with.

So, Donald Trump is on trial for questioning the integrity of the election, having the audacity to call liars and cheaters…well, calling them liars and cheaters.  Quoting from the from the Newsweek posted article that accompanied the photograph: 

“Donald Trump's legal team has continued its attempts to gain access to what they see as important information in case against the former president in Washington, DC.

Trump says important information relating to the case has not been turned over to him and his lawyers, but the government has argued the information being requested is “not relevant to the case.”’

If you read through the rest of the article it concluded with the following:

“In the American capital, Trump is charged with: conspiracy to defraud the United States; obstruction of and attempt to obstruct an official proceeding; conspiracy to obstruct an official proceeding and conspiracy against rights. He denies all of the charges against him.”

I’m reminded of one of the closing scenes from the movie, Contact, where the Congressional hearing has been completed.  The Jodi Foster character was dragged through the mud as if she’d created her entire experience, that her testimony was without any evidence or fact.  She was being ushered into a waiting limousine.  At that moment the Matthew McConaughey character acting as the voice of one who represents truth and objectivity proclaims, “I for one believe her”.

Despite all the attempts to discredit Donald Trump, and there are aspects of his personality which make him difficult to like and support, despite of all the fabrications intended to destroy him both as a member of our society; but more importantly, to destroy his chances of ever returning to the Oval Office…despite of all this… I believe him.

That’s how much I trust our government. 

Dealing With Dementia

My brother Daniel has an advanced stage of dementia which makes for some interesting challenges.  He and his wife live on our three-acre property in the RV we purchased ‘just in case things got interesting’ and our kids needed to evacuate Houston and have a place to escape to.

That scenario didn’t pan out as planned; but in a way, it worked out the way the Lord would have it.  My brother and his wife needed a place to live as they fled an increasingly violent stricken area of Uganda, Africa where they’d been serving as lay missionaries.  Apparently, Daniel had been injured during a fall and his early signs of dementia had accelerated as a result.

We offered them a safe haven and they accepted our hospitality, acknowledging that they’d be helping to offset some of our living expenses like utility bills. This has worked out well going on right at a year now.

Daniel has been keeping up physically, doing lots of exercises, jumping constantly on a small trampoline looking gizmo along with walking the property back and forth.  He’s supposed to stop when he reaches the end of our property and turn around; but this morning Lucy was in the kitchen and noticed as he reached the front gate, he appeared to have it in his mind to go further as he disappeared, going down the private road and out of sight.

I got into the pickup truck and drove off in the direction Daniel had gone.  It didn’t take long to catch up as he was only an eighth of a mile ahead, casually walking in his pajamas while wearing a nice woolen cap; our morning temperature being about fifty degrees.  With the windows rolled down I eased up along side and encouraged Daniel to hop in.

“Oh, Thank You”, he responded, “I’m looking for a friend who has a house over here.” I continued driving down the hard packed dirt road past the Finley’s property.

“Let’s check the mailbox”, figuring he might enjoy going a bit further. I drove the truck onto the county road and used our neighbor’s driveway entrance to get turned around to facilitate access to our mailbox.  Daniel appeared a bit agitated, not being familiar with the landscape he was now seeing.  “There’s our mailbox.  Let’s see what’s inside”.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.  We’re expecting a package today.”  Upon opening the drop-down lid, it was clear the mailbox was nearly full with letters and small packages. 

“This package has your name on it.  See, Daniel Stern”, handing it to my brother who again explained that they’d been expecting this delivery.  The rest of the mail was addressed to Lucy, mostly junk mail from folks looking for donations since Lucy’s a sucker for various charities.

“Oh, this is the one we’ve been waiting for.”  I drove back to our property and into our driveway. I could see Daniel’s wife, Lisa, in front of our house as she played with our dogs while talking to Lucy who was sitting on the porch.  It was plain to see they were glad I’d corralled Daniel and brought him back.

I stopped the truck to permit my brother a chance to get the door open and exit.  He handed the box to his wife Lisa and introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Daniel”, to which she replied, “I’m Lisa”.

“I found another American while on my walk”. Daniel was doing his best to explain his good fortune at having found a friend while he was on our private road. 

While this sounds a bit surreal, I have to wonder how all this must be jumbled up in my brother’s mind as he tries to make sense of this world he’s now living in.  We must be ever so gentle with Daniel as he faces battles we can’t even comprehend.

Meeting Potential Spam

Strange as it might sound, I actually met Potential Spam the other day.  All these years his name would come up on my cell phone, interrupting a quiet afternoon with annoying precision.  I’d learned to ignore the ringing by tapping the dismiss function, returning to solitude and quiet.

Yesterday was different. I needed an electrician to solve an issue on our property.  While looking for a locally listed electrician, the search turned up vendor services companies which promised to find the most qualified or reasonably priced electricians according to my Zip-code.  After entering the required fields, the vendor services company informed me that an electrician would be at my property the following day between 8:00am and 11:00am.  The last detail required was my credit card information so they could charge me in advance for 3 hours of promised work.

(Image courtesy of Version)

I requested the name of the electrician and a phone number to contact the individual to assist him/her in finding our rural location.  Some versions of electronic maps we’ve found took folks off on a wild goose chase so it was easier to give them directions we knew would get them here.  The vendor service company was reluctant to provide the phone number of the electrician seeing as how they might lose their portion of a pre-arranged contract.

Fast forward to the next morning when I heard my cellphone go off around 7:30am.  Glancing at the information it was Potential Spam.  Before I could dismiss the call, it quit ringing.  A couple of minutes later the phone rang; again, it was Potential Spam.

Normally I don’t get those annoying calls quite so early in the morning; but my brain engaged momentarily, suggesting that it might be the electrician attempting to call.  He had contacted us via the vendor services company’s switchboard and thought it odd my phone number showed me living in California, as he laughed knowing the address given was near Buffalo, Texas.

Sure enough, it was the fellow trying to find our property, sorting through the various County Roads which weave around this area.  He wanted to let me know he would only be a few more minutes in transit, that he wasn’t too far off the mark.

His service truck pulled into our driveway, and I walked over to greet him.

As he opened the door of his truck, I reached out my hand, gaining eye contact as I asked, “Do you go by Potential or by your last name Spam?”  We got along great from that moment on. He diagnosed the electrical issue and promptly had things working.

Turns out Mike was a Camel

 

Each morning, to get started on the right foot, I take my vitamins.  As part of this ritual, I tear off a page from the calendar which acts as a checks and balance later on in the day.  If the page on the calendar hasn’t been changed then it means I forgot to take my vitamins.

The calendar rewards me with a piece of trivia printed on the pages.  For instance, the other day I learned that a Chef’s Hat has 100 folds in it that represent the number of ways an egg can be cooked.  That’s the kind of information that might be found on the old Trivial Pursuit game.

This morning’s information had me chasing a memory from way back as I read, “Camels can hold a grudge and wait patiently for their opportunity to take revenge.”  I’ve never owned a camel; had dogs and cats over the years; but never a camel.  The idea that camels can hold a grudge and then wait patiently for the opportunity to take revenge; now that’s diabolical. 

While working day shift as a police officer there was a Mobil gas station located on Westheimer at Commonwealth that offered shade from the sun and good company to chat with.  It was a great location to set up for red light violations since Commonwealth was a one-way street, making it safer to begin the pursuit of a violator.  The owner of the station enjoyed having a police car present on the property and Mike Koetting, one of the mechanics working there, had a warped sense of humor that matched my own.

One hot summer day while Mike had the hood up on my patrol car checking on something that was making an odd noise, I flipped on the siren to prank with him.  Mike hit his head and flinched, a natural reaction to being startled.  He grimaced and let me know he’d get even.

Each time I’d set up under the gas station’s awning, looking to catch a red-light violator; but in the back of my mind was the warning, a gentle reminder that Mike would find a way to get even for having been startled.  As the days passed it appeared that Mike lost interest in getting even.  Weeks became months and eventually I forgot all about having pranked with Mike.

A year later to the very day, I’d settled in under the awning enjoying a slow traffic day.  While relaxing in my thoughts, comfortable knowing I was surrounded by friends, Mike came up from behind with an air ratchet that he used on my elbow which was casually hanging out the window of my patrol car.  Had I not been wearing a seat belt I might have exited through the window.

“Gotcha!  Now we’re even.”  Mike had penciled in the date on his calendar, the day to get even.  All this time I thought he was a mechanic; turns out Mike’s a camel.

Police Public Relations

 

In the mid-1970s while assigned to the Montrose area of Houston, the City posted a series of No Left Turn signs at the behest of the local Neighborhood Watch group.  There was a pattern of traffic which had cars continuously circling through residential areas, back onto the main thoroughfares and then back through the residential areas.  Basically, these individuals were looking to ‘hook-up’ with like-minded individuals, I’ll let you draw your own opinion.

The Department didn’t want to unnecessarily upset the more ‘tolerant’ segment who regularly frequented that area and so the first week after the new traffic signs were installed, with the intent to alter the annoying traffic pattern, I was sent to provide warnings rather than issue traffic tickets to anyone who failed to comply with the new traffic signs.

I’d no sooner arrived when I observed two vehicles simultaneously make a left turn off of Montrose Boulevard onto Lovett Street.  I stood out in the middle of the street and flagged them over to the curb. 

When I approached their vehicles, I asked each driver for a driver's license and they handed these over to me.  The lead vehicle had been driven by a Catholic priest wearing the customary black shirt with the small white collar.  I explained that he probably hadn’t seen the brand-new traffic sign and asked that he be more aware in the future as I let him go.

The second vehicle was driven by a more ‘progressive’ individual who might have attended Woodstock gauging from his appearance.  The idea popped into my head, have some fun with this guy.

I explained that I only had one ticket left in my book and that it was obvious that, "I couldn’t write the priest, so I had to let him go".  My words landed on his ears and settled in as I pulled the traffic ticket book from my back pocket as if I planned to start writing.

The veins in his neck immediately began to swell, “You can’t do that! You…you can’t do that!” There was a form of righteous indignation attached to his vocal cords as the words came out.

“You’re probably right”, was my reply as I reached into my pocket and took out a quarter.  I flipped it in the air, caught it and then slapped it onto my wrist.  “Call it, heads, or tails.  This way you have half a chance.”

“You can’t do that!”  He was turning red faced, “You can’t do that!”  I let him vent for a moment of two longer as I pulled out my traffic ticket book, showing him I had plenty of blank tickets that could be used.  “Please be more careful and pay attention to the new traffic signs”.

I’m not sure if this falls under Public Relations or simply Jacking with Folks.

Price Gouging or Fair Market Value

 

This past week the connection where the city water hose line feeds into our RV broke. Water was gushing out the end of the hose and I shut off the water, examined the issue and figured it would be a fairly simple repair since a standard water hose is connected to a fitting built into the side of the RV. 

I was mistaken; the connection necked down to fit the half inch diameter hose fitting on the other side of the flange.  I couldn’t simply hook the water hose up without the specialty connector which contained a pressure valve.

It was late in the afternoon on Friday, I had to scramble over to the hardware store before they closed at 5:00pm, only to find they couldn’t help.

Not being a regular fix it yourself type guy, I found out you can’t visit the local hardware store, walk over to their plumbing section and purchase an RV replacement part.  The term ‘proprietary’ was used by the owner of the hardware store as she explained the folks who sell RV replacement products won’t sell those parts to hardware stores in order to force folks to purchase these ‘specialty parts’ from the RV outlets.

I understand the use of proprietary marketing, don’t like that it’s done; but that’s how the free-market system works.  It’s the same reason you don’t go to the Chevy dealership to buy a replacement part for your Honda.  You might find an aftermarket replacement part at Auto Zone; but then it might not be an exact fit, so you end up having to go to Honda anyway. 

The next morning we’d planned on going into Houston anyway and would pass by the RV dealership where we’d purchased our 2022 Keystone Bullet.  Perhaps, we thought, since the RV was less than a year old the broken part might be covered by warranty.  The folks at the parts department explained that they weren’t the ones to ask, that we’d have to take that up with management.

I should mention that I’d called their parts department on Friday to see if they had such a part in stock.  The fellow put me on hold for a few minutes as he checked and then said, “Yes, we have them in stock and, depending on which one you need, it will cost between $25 and $30”.

However, on Saturday morning the fellow who greeted me showed that they only had one RV City Water Fill connector and it was going to cost me roughly $54.  He went to look for others that would be in the back stockroom but explained that the one on display was the only one in stock.  I gritted my teeth, reached into my wallet, and paid cash.

I knew I could get the same product on the internet for less than $20 plus shipping and handling; but since we had family in town for the weekend using the RV, we didn’t want to wait a few days for a replacement part to be delivered. 

The replacement job took only a few minutes. The part needed was the black plastic half inch diameter pressure valve connector which was held in place by two flexible tabs to the chrome ring.  Apparently, many RV units used a separate single flange cover for the city water input whereas the newer RV units now have all these water connections under one elongated oval flange held in place with 8 or 10 screws. 

With a pair of plyers, the two plastic retaining prongs were depressed freeing the connector from the chrome flange.  That connector was then pushed through the elongated oval flange plate and the hose on the RV side screwed on exactly as it was designed.  The standard water hose from our faucet was then connected to the brass pressure reducer piece and the job was done.

Thinking back to Saturday morning’s adventure, the fellow working at the Holiday World of Willis knew I had to have the part and never flinched as he handed me the receipt.  I checked the mirror in my car as I drove out of their parking lot; no, didn’t see any blood dripping from my nose either.

Fifty-Four Dollars for a part that probably cost less than two dollars to make.  Yes, that’s what most folks would consider price gouging.

A True MacGyver Moment

 

My neighbor’s car locked him out after he’d unhooked the battery.  It was then he realized that the mechanical key didn’t open the door, someone having unhooked the important parts of the lock inside the door frame, probably using a ‘Slim Jim’ or similar tool. 

I explained that I no longer had any locksmith tools, having given those away when I retired several years ago.  I still understood how to by pass the system; just that I’d need to be creative, I think that’s the term, in deciding how to attack the challenge.

I had a nice long antenna out in the connex storage building along with some empty plastic kitty litter containers.  I went to the kitchen and borrowed two Teflon coated spatulas to use for wedges and figured that might work.

I cut the kitty litter container into flat sheets and started to insert these one at a time, bypassing the tight seal of the passenger side front door.  Then another and another until the first spatula was able to get past the upright post.  I placed sheets of plastic from the kitty litter container along the edges of the door so the antenna, while being inserted, wouldn’t scratch or mar the door edges.  My neighbor had two small pieces of trim wood that had enough strength to gently pry the door edge, just enough to permit the antenna access to where the door lock was located.

This was when I started to sing a church hymn, mostly in fun; but I think the Lord was helping all this time, “Guide Us, O Thou Great Jehovah”.  I had my neighbor help guide the antenna’s working end by looking through the window until it landed squarely on the lock’s pivot point.

The whole operation didn’t take that long and it was quite exhilarating to be able to walk in the footsteps of the master of modified tricks.  Thank you, MacGyver, for an inspired moment.

(Image courtesy of bing dot com)

First Aid Training

This Wednesday the Young Women and Young Men attending the Madisonville Branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints will hold a combined meeting where they will have training on basic First Aid.  This kind of activity will be beneficial since one never knows when such training might be needed.

I was reminded that while working for the Houston Police Department, all officers were required to complete at least eight hours of First Aid training each year as mandated by the State of Texas.  Night shift officers would be asked to show up during the day for this training and receive overtime pay.  This later was changed to where the training was done on night shift at the Police Academy.

There had been a scandal of sorts in the late 1980’s where an officer from the Northeast Substation had been accused of stealing money from those he’d arrested for being drunk.  This was an embarrassment for every police officer as the Houston Chronicle had fun printing a couple of articles painting the entire Department as if it were common practice for officers to steal money from prisoners.

Internal Affairs figured out which officer was involved, set up a situation where he’d be the one to arrest an individual carrying marked bills and let the incident play out.  Sure enough, upon finishing the booking of the prisoner, the officer was found to be in possession of the marked money. 

Hopefully that’s the last time he was permitted to wear the uniform; but what has this got to do with First Aid training?

Upon showing up at the Police Academy building over by the airport, there were about 2 officers from each substation seated around a large conference table.  The First Aid instructor was from Social Services; but not a police officer, and he decided to find out how much each of us knew without having been given training, at least not as yet.

He pointed to one officer, having looked at his name tag, and asked, “Officer So and So, you’re on patrol and come upon a man bleeding severely, his having fallen through a plate glass window.  What’s the first thing you should do?”   That officer gave a reasonable response, and so it went as the instructor made it around the table.

Pointing in my direction he asked, “Officer Stern, while on patrol you come across a man lying face down in the ditch.  What’s the first thing you should do?”

Without hesitating my response was, “Well, if you’re from the Northeast Substation the first thing you do is go through his wallet looking for money.”  A round of muffled laughter broke out around the conference table, that is, all except from the two officers from the Northeast Substation who didn’t think it was funny at all.

The Hot Sheet

 

A fellow retired police officer reminded me that at one time patrol officers were handed a Hot Sheet while in Roll Call.  This was a list of currently reported stolen vehicles which could be useful while on patrol.  It must be remembered; this was before the advent of the computer age and most police cars didn’t even have a ‘good time radio’ as they were considered a distraction.

(Image courtesy of Bing dot com)

There were any number of ways to fold these Hot Sheets to make them more accessible when they were stashed above the sun visor.  Since these were printed in columns and there were so many stolen vehicles to be listed, that meant at least two Hot Sheets, sometimes more to be carefully folded to make the most of this information.

When I was a rookie, recovering a stolen vehicle was one of the items on my ‘Bucket List’.  You have to have recovered at least one stolen vehicle to be able to look in the mirror and hold your head high.  Weeks went by and nothing; but each day I’d religiously scan the lists hoping to score.

The senior police officer would drive around to check different known drop locations hoping we’d stumble across an abandoned stolen vehicle.  Some officers seemingly had a magic touch as they’d call for a wrecker almost daily to haul off their find.  I wasn’t that officer.

That day finally arrived, and I remember the feeling of pride.  In my mind, the right to wear the blue uniform had been penciled in.  It felt like a beam of sunshine was created especially for me as I called the listed owner to announce my success.

“Sir, this is Officer Stern with the Houston Police Department calling to let you know we’ve recovered your stolen truck.”  I was awaiting cheers, maybe even some confetti tossed in my direction.

“I bet my bass boat wasn’t with it.”  A dark cloud blocked out all the excitement as his words landed on my ear. Not only was this guy not going to recommend me for Rookie of the Year for having recovered his shiny new Ford F-150, but he was flat out disappointed in how long it had taken to give him the bad news; his prized fishing boat was never going to be found.

The senior officer smiled as he watched my reaction, “You’ll get used to that.”  Becoming a hero police officer wasn’t going to be easy.

Checking 3622

 

I was in a meeting at church the other day and the topic turned to the advent of the computer age.  We take for granted that our cellphones have many built-in conveniences to include a fully operational computer with more capabilities than the computers used to place a man on the moon.

(Image of Touch Tone Telephone courtesy of Bing)

Back when I was a young police officer in Houston working the street, if we wanted to have a detailed background check on a suspect, we’d ask the dispatcher to check 3622, for us.  If we were at the station, we’d simply dial 3622, that being the last four numbers of the phone number for the folks who had the only computer hooked up to the national system. 

It might be hard to comprehend how different access to the computer room was in that period.  The room was basically a high security vault and only rare few individuals were permitted to enter that room. 

‘Old Head’ police officers knew two numbers, 3622 and 3611, to check for outstanding warrants.  The newer crop of officers might not have heard of the antiquated means of accomplishing this task since every police car has its own computer tied into the national system. 

That part of the history lesson leads to the next part of the story. 

It was somewhere in the mid-70s when I had to work light duty due to an injury.  They put me behind a desk doing menial paperwork.  The Department was in the process of installing computer terminals in most every office, a decided break from having to contact 3622 for such tasks.

My first day working light duty was the same day the computer terminal was installed at the desk where I was to work.  The fellow invited me to become acquainted with all the features and explained, “Don’t worry about damaging anything, just have fun figuring what it can do”.

Wow!  This was neat, getting to have hands-on experience with new technology.  (I can hear the younger generation giggling since they grew up in a different era.)

I set about pushing the keys that ran across the top row and found there was an application built in for creating letters up the chain of command, something I’d become familiar with much more than I would have liked. 

Most officers, when they needed to explain an incident which might lead to disciplinary action, wrote out their thoughts on a yellow legal pad. That information was then handed to the division’s secretary who’d type it out, the officer would then sign that letter and submit the finished version up the chain of command.

With the word processing function available to officers, they could, if so inclined, write and edit their letter until it best matched the desired way it would be received as it went up the chain of command. 

Curiosity took my attention to the last key along the top row of buttons to push.  It was a large Red Button.  Offhand I couldn’t say if it had anything to indicate its function. The invitation offered by the technician came to mind, “Don’t worry about damaging anything, just have fun figuring what it can do”.

(Image courtesy of istockphoto dot com)        

It might have been two, perhaps three minutes before two technicians came hurriedly toward me, a panicked look on their faces indicated the building was about to explode. I’m guessing they came via the stairwell rather than having to wait on the elevator.  My hitting the large Red Key to find out what it did shut down the entire computer system of the Houston Police Department.  Every single computer terminal had been returned to the Stone Age, to include the folks working 3622. 

The technician, the same one who’d earlier been so pleasant as he’d explained, “Don’t worry about damaging anything, just have fun figuring what it can do”, carefully adjusted that to include, “…but never, under any circumstances, touch the Red Key!”

By The Book

One of the character traits desirable in police officers has to do with being able to do things ‘by the book’.  It implies a desire to adhere to standards designed to protect the integrity of the department while establishing boundaries for those working within the ranks.

(Image courtesy of istockphoto dot com)

Back in the mid to late seventies I apprenticed as a locksmith, working for free in order to learn the ‘tricks of the trade’, so to speak.  I’d show up on Saturdays and do whatever I was able during those hours.  Most of the time I’d get a free sandwich as part of the deal. 

At a certain point it became clear that I was able to do some of the simpler jobs and could actually go out on jobs to prove my talents.  Any money collected belonged to the shop since I was there as an apprentice.

It dawned on me that if I wanted to be self-employed, even for very small jobs, I needed to obtain a sales tax permit in order to be within the law.  Doing things by the book was important, especially since I was also a uniformed police officer representing the City of Houston.  It wouldn’t do for me to violate the law as it would be fodder for the local news media.

I drove over to the sales tax offices during my lunch break while on duty.  After filling in a form I handed it over to the young lady sitting at her desk.  She glanced it over, making sure all the spaces had been filled in; but stopped when she got to the line, ‘estimated monthly income’.

I’d done a rough calculation in my head, considering how much I might make doing a job every now and then.  I think the ‘estimated monthly amount’ I wrote down was, $250.00.  The young lady asked if perhaps I’d meant to write, $2,500.00; but I assured her that $250.00 a month would be about right.

She had a look of bewilderment as she lowered her chin slightly and asked, “You mean to tell me you’re going to quit the police department so you can be a locksmith and make only $250 a month?”

Rather than go into details about my locksmith business being mostly a hobby, something to do for fun on Saturdays, I replied, “Oh, yes Ma’am, I really enjoy locksmith work”.  I think she winced and took a deep breath as she stamped the form.  I posted a minimal deposit to cover expected sales taxes to be collected.  The next 40 years in business is, as they say, history.

Doing things by the book was a good idea since that hobby became a primary source of income that supplemented my employment as a police officer until I retired from the Houston Police Department.

That brings up another story regarding doing things by the book.  A couple of weeks prior to retiring from the department I wanted to make sure all my ducks were in a row, pardon the expression. There were things like continuity of medical insurance for my family to consider along with other payroll oriented issues that had to be properly addressed.  The forms were turned in and all that was needed was to finish out the last week on duty.

The next night, after being assigned my regular beat and shop (police car), I turned on the MDT (a fancy term for a laptop that’s attached to the police car).  The login screen wouldn’t cooperate, asking in bold print why a retired officer needed to login.

(image courtesy of wolfcomusa dot com)

I took a deep breath and managed to convince the dispatcher that I had not retired yet, that I still had a few more days to go.  Somehow the dispatcher was able to convince the system to accept a retired officer for active duty that night.

Then, when it was time to fill up the police unit with gasoline prior to going home at the end of shift, the computer at the gas pumps wouldn’t accept my information; again, asking why a retired police officer was trying to obtain gasoline.  Fortunately, my shift supervisor was close by and used his information to convince the system to let me fill up with gas.

The next night, rather than worry about why a retired police officer was on duty, our supervisors agreed that it would be much easier to assign me to desk duty the remainder of my active duty.

Some might argue or question my being a by the book kind of individual; but, for the most part, I did try to stay within the lines.