He awoke shivering to the feeling of an ant scrambling across the rugged terrain that was his face…he lay there, just feeling it’s tiny legs feel their way across his pitted unshaven cheek.  He slowly put his hand up to his face and let the little creature find it’s way to his finger and climb up. He held his finger in front of his face watching the frantic actions of the little insect as it spiraled and zigzagged around his finger. Then he slowly he brought his thumb and finger together until they just pinched the ant enough to stop him from running…the ant struggled and clawed to get free snipping with his little pinchers. Gus frowned and put the ant close to his ear, “what’s that little buddy? You want me to cut you a break? Well now… I figger I am cuttin you a break. I  mean you could have walked all the way across my face and down my arm to get where you are now, but I saved you a whole heap of walking now didn’t I. He clenched his jaw as an angry frown stretched across his face. Gus pressed his finger and thumb together until his fingernails turned white, then he rubbed them together and watched the little pieces of ant fall to his chest then he glared skyward and shot his middle finger up at the sky. Gus figured getting struck dead for  shooting God the bird, couldn’t be much worse than living in the squalor he did now. He was pretty much burnt out on God, and people that claimed God is Love… He hadn’t found this to be anywhere near accurate at this stage in his life, if it could be classified as such. Gus thought if God really was the creator and all, He should be able to deal with a little bit of sarcasm from His creations without losing his temper. Gus always said “Wouldn’t be much of a God or a man if He got all bent out of shape when folks get mad at Him, would he?” And Gus put his theory to the test on a regular basis. Gus’s current residence was nothing more than an old RV storage facility comprised of a concrete slab, a roof and only 2 walls. Gus  Gus looked up at the orange glow of the security light hanging from a tilted old pole in front of the building. It was still early. He sat up and wrapped his sleeping bag around his bony shoulders. He looked around and realized why the ant was on his face. There was water almost all the way up to his sleeping bag. Only a small patch of dry concrete remained around him. Gus looked around the garage and nodded his head with satisfaction. He had predicted it would rain, not that it mattered, there was no one to predict to, but he had, and it had… and he had placed his sleeping bag right here figuring it would be the highest spot…and it was. Gus stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out a bent cigarette and a pink BIC. He tenderly ran his fingers up the cigarette to straighten it. finally satisfied, he planted it in his lips and lit it up, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply the sweet painfully cheap, acrid, lifeblood. He felt its power course through his veins and slowly exhaled through his nostrils. He rummaged through a dirty canvas bag and pulled out a package of orange cheese crackers. He was pretty sure the clerk at the 7/11 had seen him pocket them, but he put on his pitiful face and kept walking. She never stopped him, and now he knew where to go. He sucked on the dry crackers until they dissolved in his mouth, then he found his bottle in the bag and slowly unscrewed the lid, letting the air escape with a hiss. He took a slow trickling pull on it feeling the burning fizz of  the night cooled Coke tracing down his throat. Gus leaned forward and looked around the edge of the garage, over the top of two buildings and just sticking out past the edge of another to the bank sign. all he could see was the first number on it. It was “3” something. Gus stood up and pressed his eyes tightly together as he straightened his back and groaned. He felt like a horse trying to ward off flies as his skin quivered in in the cold. He rolled up his sleeping bag and stuffed it in his canvas bag. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then he took the long stick lying on the floor nearby and put the straps of the canvas bag on a broken stub of a branch. He lifted the bag up into the rafters of the garage and hooked the straps on a nail at the peak of the roof. Gus would keep sleeping here until there was a reason to leave. It was rare to find a good spot like his that someone else on the streets hadnt already claimed. Gus made sure his bag was safe and then took off walking. He squeezed through the chain link gate in front of the garage. The gate was was chained together loosely enough for him to straddle the chain and wriggle through the gap. Then he started off down the street. He didn’t have anywhere particular to go, he would just wander until something came to him. He shook his head at himself as he realized he was trying to trick himself again. He always started off telling himself he had nothing particular in mind to do, but as he walked he kept finding himself fingering the silver tube in his pocket, looking this way and that for someone to give him what he needed. He had tried to quit the stuff, but somehow he couldn’t toss the pipe… it was the last shred of control he had in his life. It represented his only goal in life… to get some money, so he could get a rock.  As it turned out, keeping the pipe hadn’t been the best idea, now he needed to score or he was going to go crazy. Gus crossed the street and started to turn down a well traveled alley when he noticed a Police car approaching him straight on… Gus didn’t turn into the alley, but continued straight, gripping the tube in his pocket tightly. The car got just beside him. Gus moved just his eyes too see who it was. Officer Maguire slowly rolled past. Gus just kept walking not looking back or changing his pace, just kept walking. The car turned down a street and drove out of sight. The officer would make the block and be back. He knew Gus, and he knew what he was up to at this time of night. Officer Maguire stopped Gus on a regular basis. Most times He didn’t find anything on Gus, but there had been enough times of him finding a little rock or the pipe, that the officer knew he was good for at least some info on the local dealers. Gus cooperated and helped the officer just enough to keep him guessing, but not quite enough to actually be useful. Gus didn’t care if the Cop arrested him or not, he had grown in a strange way, almost fond of going to jail. It wasn’t like it was keeping him from something important, and it was a dry relatively warm place to sleep. Head lights illuminated Gus as a car approached him from behind. Once again, Gus didn’t change his pace or look back, but just kept walking. He waited for the moment. Then just as he walked past a light post he pulled the pipe from his pocket and in one smooth motion, turned his body as if to look behind him, and flicked the metal pipe into the grass along the sidewalk. Officer Maguire stopped his car and got out, flooding Gus with spot lights from his car. Gus put on his innocent smile and put his hands on top of his head as the officer approached him. “Mornin officer.” Gus drawled congenially.
“Hey Gus, what are ya doing over here man? I thought you were quittin?”
“Im just going to a friends house sir.” Gus knew the cop didn’t believe him… it didn’t really matter, it was just what he always said…
“Got anything in your pocket you shouldn’t have Gus?”
“Nah, not tonight sir, you can look if ya want.” The officer motioned for Gus to step to his car and together they performed the dance they had both danced countless times. Gus put his hands on the car, the cop quickly brushed down his pockets and pulled out the crushed empty cigarette pack, and the lighter, then put them back, then pulled a yellow cap from a coke bottle, that had “YOU WIN” stamped inside of it… “Hey this one is a winner Gus!” The cop laughed and put under Gus’s hand on the hood. “Alright Gus, you’re free to go, Ill catch ya next time.” Gus and Officer Maguire both knew that statement was more than just a friendly farewell. The Officer turned his spot lights off and Gus walked on alone into the night, leaving his pipe in the grass where it lay.


Meet Misha


Chapter 2

The mirror was cloudy and spotted. There were places where only black glass showwed and nothing reflected back…she stood there feeling empty and alone. She was tired of looking at herself in this nasty old mirror and wondering how many more days she would wait. She looked at the bumpy surface of the chrome faucet… she had decided long ago it was how most other people saw her… at first glance she was happy and attractive, but it you pushed on it with your fingernail, it cracked revealing a rusted decaying inside. She wondered if everyone thought in metaphors like she did, or if it was just another part of her strangeness. She smacked the mirrored front of the vanity with her palm and it swung open. She stood there like she had every day for the past month and looked at it… would today be it? Would she have the courage? Her hand tingled as she thought of reaching for it, but no muscle moved, her breath was slow and even… no this wasn’t the day. While it was a relief, it was almost as much of a let down… now she must wait another day and wonder if tomorrow her hand would do more than tingle. With a quick motion she flicked the mirror closed and walked out of the little bathroom. She walked to her window, the only one in the cramped apartment that still had clear glass in it. It was just behind the table where she sat and wrote her poems, it was the only place that had any thing other than the putrid yellow light of a weak bare bulb. Even at night she sat at that table. It seemed like the dark of the outside night, was better than the sulking gloom that filled the rooms of her apartment.
She dropped the towel that was wrapped around her and stood in front of the open window letting the warm evening breeze blow across her skin. There was no fear of anyone seeing into her window and observing this ritual, as her window faced an empty alley lined with skeletal remains of once respectable fences. She tipped her head back and imagined the wind was the breath of an artist after erasing a mistake from his drawing, blowing the little rolled up pieces of eraser off the page, into space. It was cleaning the day off of her; the uncertainty she always felt, the fear that she looked silly, the knowledge that people talked about how strange she was, all of it blew away in the warm breeze. With her eyes closed she just stood there with her arms out until the breeze waned a little. Finally she opened her eyes sighed deeply and picked up her towel. After dressing, she pulled out her supper. She had grown to hate the smell of ramen soup, so she started eating the dry noodles right from the package to avoid the aroma of the little foil packets when they were opened. She crunched her noodles slowly. And thought about her day. It had been no different than any other, nothing new… She stopped mid thought, and tried to remember… there was something different today… there had been a ripple in her day that was unexpected… Oh yeah, what was her name? She sat and thought about the short exchange of conversation they had shared and felt herself smile a little. “Maggie” she said aloud with a note of triumph. She resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone had heard her, she knew there was no one near. “Maggie” she said again quieter. Maggie had called her by name today. Sure she had seen the name tag, but she had taken the time to read it and she had treated Misha like she was actually present and human. That was a luxury Misha rarely experienced. People always seemed to pick up on her personality and avoided getting very close to her. She was used to people just saying
“Hey go catch the register will ya,?” or “Give me a hand over here…” But rarely did anyone address her by name… that would just be too personal and who knows… she might start talking to them or something. But Maggie had engaged her immediately. She had shown real interest in Misha and who she was. She complimented her on the quality of the coffee, and she smiled for real… not a pity smile like she was used to. She was glad her hand had only tingled today.
As she lay on the lumpy futon and tried to fall asleep she wondered if Maggie would come back to the coffee shop tomorrow, she hoped she would, and she hoped she would call her by her name again.

Misha woke up before her alarm went off. something  was different today. She walked into the back door of the little coffee shop and punched her timecard. She grabbed a broom and went out to the front to check for ciggarette butts on the patio. She felt lighthearted today. Light heartedness was not a feeling she felt often so she enjoyed every second of it. For most of the day she felt as if something had changed inside of her…she kept thinking about the woman she had met yesterday and watching the door for her to show up. She finally approached the huddle of her teenage coworkers who always seemed to be joking and laughing about something. “Jacob, remember that lady that came in here yesterday?” She started nervously. Jacob turned to look at her, his face full of sarcasm.
“Oh yeah, THAT lady, of course I remember.” He turned back to his cronies shaking his head and snickering at his cleverness. Misha stepped up to the univiting backs and started again.
“Her name is Maggie…she said she is a regular?” Jacob turned around again to offer his wit, but stopped when he met Misha’s steel blue eyes.
“Um, yeah I know er, what about er?”
“Does she come in every day?”
“Pretty much, why?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering… I haven’t seen her today.” Jacob turned back to his buddies. Misha could tell by the looks on their faces that he was mocking her to them. She didn’t care, they were punks and she didn’t need them. Thats how she had survived everyday. No matter how true or untrue it might’ve been, she didn’t need anyone, she was fine without them.

New Idea…


Ok Im tired of not writing… and Im tired of just telling everyone about my Police academy experiences (riveting though they may be) Im ready to do somthing different… so here is my idea.

Im gonna put a piece of somthing Ive been writing on here and I want some ideas…

I have some good characters, but Im having a hard time coming up with a good plot…

what happens next kinna thing.

SO thats your job… if you have any great ideas for characters, plot, events, conflicts, or twist… tell me about them and Ill try to write the next section of this story including the best ideas you have… if I dont get any action Ill just put somthing else up and see what happens… so here is the first piece of a story Im working on..

Here are some things to think about

What was Maurice’s occupation

What is Maggie’s occupation

Where does Maggie go after this?

Who does she meet?

Why is Misha metioned? Will she be a main character?

These are things I want to know to move on in this story… get to it!!!

Chapter 1

The room stank. living with the ever lingering stench of old age and incontinence in his nostrils for the past 2 years had not robbed Maurice Kennard of awareness, and disgust for the odor. His throat contracted, he swallowed hard trying to keep from openly gagging as he watched the robust little nurse changing the soiled sheets on his bed. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, but he knew she would just nod and pat his shoulder not understanding his slurred mumblings.
He looked down at his pale hands. They moved and jerked in his lap involuntarily in a rhythm he had memorized. It had become a pastime of his to try and touch his two index fingers together and hold them there. Sometimes he would try all day and never succeed. He glared at his quavering hands and tried to will them to stop moving. “Useless old claws” He fumed to himself, as they continued to randomly move about. He looked at his freshly trimmed fingernails, clean and shiny, curved around to the edges and clipped square. “Never had no clean fingernails before now…never had no soft hands…” his mind wandered and lost its way as he continued to stare at his manicured unspoiled hands.
The stainless steel lid of the laundry cart clattered, jarring him from his idle state. As the nurse came within reach and stuffed the sheets into the bin Maurice reached out and grabbed her sleeve. He shook his head desperately back and forth, the only thing he could do that would communicate his distaste for the position he had put her in. It appalled him that he was incapable of controlling himself and that she had to bear the weight for it and he wanted her to know it. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled.
“Don’t you worry none Mr. Kennard, this here’s my job.” He just continued to shake his head and tug on her sleeve. Finally she was finished and left him alone in the little room. Maurice inched along in his wheelchair until he sat in front of the window. It looked out into a small courtyard. In the summer there was a water fountain that rattled its mockingly cheery, repetitive chant, and flowers in raised beds along the concrete wheelchair paths. Now it was dead and colorless. Little patches of ice in the shade from a week gone snow, black spots of mud where the melting snow from the roof had dripped, skeletal trees, all of which seemed to be clawing at his window trying to reach him, trying to drag him into its misery. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes and melted into the wrinkles. “Crazy old man, what happened to your head? Why’d you let me down this way?” Maurice turned his head to look at the framed picture on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes shut and strained to remember. “I know her…I do…what’s her name…WHAT IS HER NAME MAURICE!” He stretched his shuddering hand out and took the picture. He laid it on his lap and stared at it. Finally after a few minutes of gazing and shaking his head he turned it over. His eyes could see the sequence of letters on the back of the picture, but try as he might, they meant nothing to him, except for the “M”. “M…Mmmmm” he hummed out loud. His mind began to swirl. “mmmmmmMMMMMM” He hummed louder and louder until his voice echoed in the room. His mind began to wander and stray from what he knew. He fought valiantly “No!! don’t go… please stay…” His thoughts hissed and crackled in his head like an old AM receiver losing its signal. “I love you… I know I do, I love you…you are beautiful, I just don’t remember your name!” His knuckles grew white as his grip on the picture frame tightened. His eyes didn’t stray from the word on the back of the photo. His voice grew louder as he tried to hold on to the one thing he knew. “MMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmm.” The glass shattered in his grip. He stopped humming abruptly. His cheek twitched and his neck jerked and gradually his eyes cleared. He frowned slightly as he saw blood running up the edge of the frame and dripping onto his vinyl slippers. He turned the picture over and looked at it. A smile rippled across his face like the wind on an uncut hay field. He slowly lifted the picture to his lips and kissed it, closing his eyes as if it were a real person. He pulled his sleeve up to try and wipe the blood off that he’d smudged on it from his hand which continued to bleed profusely. “I do love you…my little sunshine…daddy’s baby…I love you…” He said aloud, his voice clear and unwavering. He ran a steady finger down the line of her nose and crinkled his own nose at her. “It’ll be a bit till I see you again, so be good.” Maurice reached for a pen from the nightstand and scratched a few words on the back of the picture, then He sat for awhile smiling at it and reliving moments spent with his little girl. He was ready now…he had remembered her and it was all he wanted.
He watched as his left hand slowly began to quiver again, he knew what was coming. Tears overflowed onto his wrinkled cheeks, his thumb stroked her face a few last times as he drifted away. When the nurse came in an hour later to make her rounds she found him slouched awkwardly to the right and unmoving, but the broken picture was still held tightly in his hands. Maurice Kennard had long since paid his dues, he had long since been ready, but he had waited for that moment of remembrance.


“There you go ma’am.” The pretty dark haired young woman set the steaming cup and saucer down on the table in front of Maggie. A quick flicker of her eyes to the nametag and Maggie smiled pleasantly,
“Thank you Misha, its beautiful” The girl smiled with satisfaction and dipped her head, as if she had been waiting for the words. She started to turn and walk away, but Maggie touched her arm, “I’m Maggie, and you… are new?” She said with a bit of question in her voice. The girl nodded and smiled again.
“Yes ma’am, I’ve only been here for 3 days.”
“Well it doesn’t show in your drinks, at least this one is quite artful”
“Thanks, I like makin them pretty, but you better taste it before you give me too much credit, I might have just covered dirty water with whipped cream…” Maggie laughed and defiantly grabbed up the mug of steaming something under a tower of swirled cream. She took a long sip and closed her eyes.
“That’s the best dirty water I’ve ever tasted… bar none!” Misha laughed delightedly and dipped her head again.
“Thanks… I guess I better get back to work… it was nice meeting you.”
“Oh you’ll see me again, I’m a regular here…” Maggie’s mobile phone began to buzz and move across the table. She gave it an angry look and picked it up without looking at the display. With a flourish and a defiant glance at Misha, she dropped it from above her head into her purse. Misha looked at her quizzically and laughed before returning to her post at the register. Maggie was of the persuasion that life existed quite well before cell phones, and that it would continue on if she didn’t answer hers ever. So she rarely did and her colleagues never stopped ribbing her about it.
She was halfway home before she thought about the missed call again. With one hand on the wheel she rummaged through her purse and finally found the phone. On the front display she read “9 missed calls” And shook her head in disbelief. “How about leaving a voicemail?” She said grumpily to the phone. She flipped it open and punched the auto dial for her voicemail. Moments later the electronic female voice told her that her mailbox was full and that she should delete some of the messages before anyone could leave another. Slowly she lowered her phone from her ear and slapped it shut. Whoever had called wanted to talk to her desperately and couldn’t leave a message… She flipped the phone open again and looked down to see who the missed calls were from but as she did the phone buzzed to life startling her and making her swerve in the road. She almost cursed when she bounced over a curb while turning to get on the freeway. Then she glanced at the display to see if she recognized the number. She let the phone buzz as she just stared at the number on the display. Her face was becoming pale, her breathing short. The phone stopped buzzing… 10 missed calls. She didn’t need to answer, she knew who it was… why they were calling… she had been dreading the day for a long time and here it was. Her face was void of expression as she sat with both hands on the wheel in a gas station parking lot. Sweat had beaded on her head, her eyes had taken on a wild terror, as her mind processed what she tried for months to prepare for. She was…alone. Daddy was gone…and there was no one else…just Maggie. Her eyes fogged over, her back and neck slumped and her face flushed as a line of moisture formed on her cheeks and steadily dripped from her chin. An anguished sob escaped her as she struggled to hold the emotions at bay. After a moment she was quiet again. She picked up the phone from where it had fallen on the floorboard, and hit the connect button for the number that had been calling her.
“Yes this is Maggie Kennard; I’ve missed several calls from this number…”
After she got off the phone she took a deep breath and turned her vehicle around and headed to the place she dreaded so. The rest home. The place she had hated herself for having left her father in, and the place he had taken his final breath. As she found a parking spot her mind was blank. She was sad, but she couldn’t cry or do anything, she felt mechanical and stiff as she stepped through the electronic sliding doors of the home. A young woman in purple scrubs stepped from behind the square nurse filled corrall and extended her hand. “Mrs. Kennard, I’m so sorry.” Maggie looked at the woman for a moment and finally extended her own hand as the woman grasped it with both of hers.
“Thank you, I believe you are…” Maggie pulled away and started walking toward her fathers room. “Is he still in there?”
“Yes ma’am, we just laid him on his bed, that’s all.”
“Thank you, for not taking him…” The woman blinked in place of a nod and her lips pressed together in her effort to not show too much emotion.
Maggie paused at the door, and slowly pushed it open. She stood out in the hall for a moment, and then glanced at the nurse, silently telling her to stay out, then she stepped into the room. Her father lay on his back with a blanket pulled up to his armpits and his arms on top of the blankets his hands folded together. He looked peaceful. She sighed with some relief, realizing how much the fear she had, of seeing him in some grotesque death pose had gripped her. She pulled a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down. For a long silent moment she sat just staring at his face. She reached out and touched his forehead, clenching her teeth and trying to overcome the terror of loneliness again as her hand touched cold skin. His skin had never been cold, it had never been lifeless before, always warm and loving and full of fun and life…but now he wasn’t even here… just an old dried out shell of what he had been, like one of those cicada shells left clinging to a tree in the spring time. She smiled as she realized just how well that analogy fit. He had broken free of this bound up sick, and struggling life, and flew off into the heavens. She stroked his face and pushed a whisp of white hair back from his forehead. She didn’t have anything to say now that she hadn’t sat here day after day and already told him… there were no regrets, she wasnt afraid she hadn’t told him she loved him… there had been plenty of time for that while he was here. She took his hand and kissed the back of it. She noticed a small cut on his thumb and wondered how he got it. Then she saw the sparkle of a tiny shard of glass still in the cut. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the room trying to see what might’ve cut him, and she saw the picture. She reached across him and picked it up. She looked at her own face in the picture for a moment and then laid if face down on his chest. “I Love you daddy…” She whispered… then she saw the scratchy writing on the back of the picture. She squinted to try an make sense of it…”I remembered you my sunshine”

She sucked her breathe in deeply, trying to suppress a sob that was welling up as the name her father had always called her triggered memories from her childhood. She could feel his strong arms as he tossed her up with little effort and always caught her again, she remembered his face, scratchy against hers, the smell of the spearmint gum he always chewed and the faint spicy aroma of a cigar she had never seen him smoke.
So much time had passed since then, so much had happened, so much pain had been experienced, and now it was done… he was finished with this old troublesome life. Maggie kept finding herself smiling through the tears streaming down her face. He was home, finally. Then the great groaning sob exploded from her chest as the realization flooded over her again…She was alone. More alone than ever before. She lay her head on his chest and finally stopped holding back the raging river of emotion as she her body heaved in pain and loneliness.

Today I passed the first official step of becoming qualified by the Lubbock Police Department to be a peace officer. I met the minimum physical requirements… not only did I meet them, but I actually surpassed them. We were required to do at least 40 pushups, and 40 situps each in a minute. Then we had to run a 13 minute 1.5 miles. When it was all said and done… I did 65 pushups in a minute… 47 situps in a minute and ran the 1.5 mile in 11.22 minutes. So I have OFFICIALLY met and exceeded Lubbock Police Departments requirement for physical fitness. Everything else I gain physically is just bonus.

YAY!! thanks for the encouragement guys!


One More Down


Finished week four… and it wasnt bad at all. I think Im getting stronger…no I KNOW I am cause 75 push ups dont hurt a bit. Next week Ill be memorizing my powers to arrest, which amounts to about the same as a couple of chapters in the Bible… but hey, everyone does it… I guess I can too.

You guys have no I idea how much it helps me when you all are rooting for me and cheering me on. I cant wait to walk in church with a that badge pinned on my blues and a pistol on my belt… I think you guys will have as much reason to be excited as me. You have all been so gracious to listen to my whining.

Well its friday and Im gonna go enjoy it. Stay up late and sleep in tomorrow… not much homework either so I might actually relax a little…

 See y’all soon.

Three Weeks


So, you guys have stuck with me…. except barry, who thinks he can kick my rear…and I guess he has stuck with me to… he just thinks he can kick my rear…

Anyway… Its 3 weeks down… and Police Academy has become my life.

 I show up at about 7:15, sit in the classroom  for a few minutes to wake up, then its formation time in the gym… we all form up. Im four people from the front on the far right side… that means Im the fourth tallest person in the class. We stand at attention for uniform inspection, standing tall and stoic as the short, loud Physical Training Instructor eyeballs our hair, (or my lack of it) our upper lips and adams apples, our creased shirts, our perfectly straight name tag pinned over our always buttoned shirt pockets, our tightly tucked shirts that always seem to poof out in the back, our very straight “gig” line (the line formed by your shirt buttons and pants fly), our very shiny boots and our perfect “at attention” posture… then the stress starts…

“Brewer… 10-15”

“Civil Disturbance SIR”

“Carroll… 10-91”

“Pick up Prisoner SIR”

“Bates… 10-85”

“Um…Mental Subject sir?”

“WRONG… thats 20”

This goes on for 15 or so minutes… “20” means 20 exercises (Pushups, situps, up downs, mountain climbers, flutter kicks etc) and by the end of formation we could have anywere from 60 or so, to over 200 exercises for that day…

Those are the easy days… 🙂

But Im there!! I made it and Im not quitting… 3 people decided it was all to much for them and quit… those that are left deal with the pain, the stress, the knowledge that missed questions on a test translate to more than a grade average…they mean physical pain too. But the bottom line that everyone remembers is that this isnt just memorizing to pass a test, this isnt just to get it over with, this is all to make us stronger, quicker, braver and ultimately give us the ability to make that split second decision under stress that saves the lives of innocent people…

We are gonna be Police… We will wear that badge and feel the burden of responsibility it brings, we will know that it wasnt GIVEN to us… we will have scars to prove it… and lifelong friendships to remind us of it… we will stand tall when the media makes us out to be bad guys… because we know what the real bad guys look like and they dont read the papers… we won’t be Police cause we need a job… we won’t be Police cause it seems like fun, we will be Police because somthing deep down makes us mad when little guys get picked on, when women get hit by men, when little kids hide under tables and watch thier parents fight… when the young are destroyed by addictions…and we don’t want to call someone else to make it right, WE want to make it right…

Thats all fine and good… but the reality is all those noble thoughts arent flowing through my head when Im pumping my legs up a 300 foot hill at top speed for the fifth time sucking air and trying to put out the flames that are burning through my leg muscles… all I think of is getting through, making it, not dying or passing out, maybe throwing up… but thats not so bad if you think about it… it actually makes you feel better, and you get a short break while you hurl.

SO, there. a day in my life. I gotta whine a little, but the reality is, Im loving it. I can feel myself changing. Im stronger, faster, better looking… ok thats pushing it I guess… but my ego is working fine it seems 🙂 Im ready for monday… Im ready to show em what Ive got…

I pray more too… and I know you guys are always praying for me… I can feel it, and I know at that moment when the pain is almost too much… that I can make it, cause its not my strenghth that matters, it is HIM… ALL things through HIM who gives ME STRENGTH!!!

Thanks guys I love yall… even you Barry… but I dare you to pick a fight wit me.

Thanks Ya’ll


You folks are just great! I dont know how to respond to each of your comments individually, and to tell you the truth, I stink at that kind of thing anyway… but I want you all to know how much I enjoy getting comments on here. If you knew me, and my wife will attest, some of my favorite things in the world are getting personal letters in the mail or email, and getting comments on stuff I write. So,  dont think that me not responding to each comment means I dont see them or enjoy them… on the contrary, I LOVE EM!!! So thanks to my 5 faithfull readers and commenters…if that’s a word, and keep it up. 🙂