While cranking up my laptop this morning to catch up with email and news items, the familiar warm-up screen presented itself letting me know what day and time it was. You know how us old people can never be too sure what day of the week it might be, even wondering what year we’re in. It was reassuring to see President Ronald Reagan addressing the press.
A bright
blue screen announced that it was 9:08 on Saturday, February 8th. Silly as it might sound, that always brings a
smile to my face. It’s 908, much more
than telling me what time it might be; 908 was the badge number on the blue
uniform I wore as a police officer for the City of Houston until I retired in
1992.
When working
the near west side of town in the Montrose area, there was a young vendor who
frequented some of the same places I liked to visit for lunch. I couldn’t say what his product was other
than he got around on a bicycle instead of a motor vehicle. He was a pleasant
individual whose lifestyle was a bit different than my own; nothing too wild,
just that he made it a point to let me know I was considerably more
conservative.
His greeting
was genuine each time we’d cross paths, “It’s Nine Oh Eight!”, as if he didn’t
see my name tag, only my badge. I’d
smile back and we’d continue our acknowledgment of each other. I’d go on to explain that the local banker and
I were good friends, that each day he’d flash my badge number up on a big sign
atop his bank, once in the morning and then again in the evening. He’d smile while shaking his head at such a
dumb response.
So, yes,
anytime I see a clock display the time, 9:08, I smile and remember having worn
the uniform, having stored so many memories and been able to share them with
folks who might enjoy a momentary distraction.
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