(c) James J Alonzo
Today, my daughter Sherri took me to lunch for Father's day. It was a great day, since I don't see enough of her. The conversation was warm, enlightening, and I was proud to see the woman my daughter has grown into. Her poise, wisdom, and inner strength.
This is Father’s Day weekend. We honor men who are father’s whether good or bad. A good father guides his household to success while a poor one guides his family to destruction.
Ben Franklin, one of the country’s founding fathers said, “A father’s a treasure; a brother’s a comfort; a friend is both. Dare I say that a great father is a treasure, a comfort and a friend.
Father’s Day often finds me thinking about my step dad. Because of his cruelty we were never close but I did learn a lot about life through him. He was strong, hard, uncompasionate provider, and UNFORTUNATELY a role model to my 1/2 brother, his son.
I and my step father would not have agreed on many things on child rearing, and disagree on one important fact. My stepfather was not a believer in children being people. "seen but not heard" was his belief.
I have an uncle Larry, that became my role model, as a father, and buddy to his children. I knew that I would try to be a good father like my uncle.
Fathers have the power to give a good impression or a bad impression of what a father should be. If their father was dictatorial, autocratic, and a harsh disciplinarian, then Fatherhood is viewed in the same way causing people to wonder why they should bother with It at all.
Those who have a father that treats them with fairness, love, and respect, long for a close relationship with their own children.
Fathers are destined to be remembered one way or another and only as they parent, can their memory be something to be treasured, a comfort, and a friend.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Get Out Of My Way Stupid!
GET OUT OF MY WAY STUPID!
(C) James J Alonzo
One night on routine patrol along the Lake Shore at about 3 a. m. Jack and I found a pickup truck on the beach, near a well known night club called "Micky Rats".
"Well, let's take a look and see if there is a driver and passenger," Jack said.
The truck had been rolled over and had a lot of damage to it. It was upside down, however, no bodies, no one was around it, and the keys were still in the ignition.
Our department's policy on one vehicle accidents like this, especially at night when we would have to call someone out, was that we would work the accident, do an accident investigation, only if a driver was present at the scene. We notified radio of the situation, description, and location. The day shift can handle this.
"I bet this clown calls in that his truck was stolen after he's sobered up enough to figure out his story." said Jack.
"Jack you are so distrusting!" I said sarcastically, "Such little faith in your fellow man. You need to change your evil ways.
We were sure the owner of the truck would call and report it as being stolen. It was not unusual for someone to get drunk, have an accident then try to report their vehicle as being stolen.
"West five", crackled the radio, "see the owner, a Mr. Paul Crowly, on stolen pickup truck accident, at parking lot of Micky Rats."
Sure enough, in a few minutes the dispatcher notified us that they had the owner of the truck on the phone reporting it as stolen.
"Radio, Roger that, eta five minutes."
After we got to the site, it wasn't but a couple of minutes he showed up. He had not even bothered changing clothes. He was wet and covered with sand from head to toe, also very highly intoxicated.
We started asking him questions,
"Where was your truck when it was stolen?" I asked, "and when?
"How'd you get wet?" Jack piped in, not giving him a chance to answer, "and how come you have beach sand all over you?"
He became very nervous and at this point we asked him,
"Do you realize if you had been driving," I said, " you could be charged with filing a false police report?"
"Just forget the whole thing if you don't believe me." he shouted with hostility, as he moved to go around me to walk off.
I looked at Jack, he smiled and moved away from the patrol vehicle, telling me with body language, that He was going to handle this.
Jack blocked the perp's path with his 6'4" 280 pound body and put his hand against the perp's chest to stop him from leaving and told him,
"You're going to wait because we're not finish Investigating this! In fact I think you were the driver!"
The perp slapped Jack's hand away and said,
"Get out of my way, Stupid!"
The perp quickly found that he had just done two things which you just don't do to Police Officers at 3 a.m., or any other time for that matter. Those two things were slap at them and call them names.
He also found out why this "'stupid' Officer" was nicknamed "The Choker." Jack reached out with his right hand and grabbed the perp by the throat. Jack over the years, had found this to be an effective hold early in his career and had used it a lot.
Jack found out that men do exactly what you want them to do, if you control their breathing, it does not matter how big or bad you are, you've got to have air to fight.
The perp hadn't counted on was the quick reaction of Jack who arrested the perp for resisting arrest, filing a false report, and disorderly conduct and put him in the patrol car.
While I went to close the door he yelled, "I want to talk to whoever is in charge!" I told him he was talking to the person who was in charge. At that point he calmed down and asked, "Would it help if I apologized?"
It didn't help, we were finished, we took him to jail.
******
During the period of our time as partners, Jack and I would lecture each other on things we felt the other was doing wrong. My pet peeve was Jack was a big strong man, and and expert at brute force. I on the other hand, standing at 5'10", and 160 lbs. used an art that I was well trained in, assorted martial arts, Ju Jit Su, Krav Magna, and Dim Mak*
The reader should keep in mind that this period I am wetting about is the 1970s into the 1980s, there was no such thing as a TASER(R).
One night on routine patrol, we got a radio call,
"FIVE WEST, SEE THE NEIGHBOR, 183 MILL STREET, VILLAGE ANGOLA, INTOXICATED WOMAN THROWING ROCKS AT HOUSES AND PASSING VEHICLES."
"Roger, 183 Mill Street." I responded.
"This should be simple enough," Jack said with a smile, Some crazy drunk broad."
"Try not to choke her or sit on her." I said laughing.
When we arrived, it wasn't hard to find the crazy lady, we spotted her immediately since she was in the process of throwing a rocks at our patrol vehicle!
"Judas Priest!" I shouted, "this broad is crazy!" As another rock bounced off my door.
After we exited the patrol vehicle we had to dodge more rocks, Jack shouting out for her to stop, charged her, tackling her. There was a crowd of people outside watching.
"You fucking pig! Get off me!" The crazy lady shouted as she was being hand cuffed by Jack.
She was dark haired, 5'3", about 110 lbs., wearing heavy construction type boots, blue jeans, and T-shirt.
"Shit pig, they're too tight!" she complained of the handcuffs being behind her back.
"Don't worry," I said, "The handcuffs are new but they'll stretch in time."
"Fuck you pig!"
"Thank you but I'll have to decline."
After Jack got the perp on her feet, she started kicking Jack's legs and tried to kick him in the balls. Jack, holding her arm, extended his muscled arm so her kicks couldn't reach him. He knew there was a crowd so he had to be careful that he didn't look like police brutality.
"You need help getting her in the car?" I asked.
"No!," Jack replied impatiently, "I don't need your damn help with this broad!"
He pulled her to the rear door of the squad car, and as he opened the door, she kicked him again in the shins!
"Shit!" Jack yelled, "Stop it!" but she continued kicking his shin!
He tried to push her into the back seat, by placing his big meaty hand on her stomach and pushing, but she arched her back, and refused to sit into the back seat, shouting,
"No I won't!"
"Just get in the car lady!"
When Jack stop pushing she would kick him in the shins again with those construction boots!
"Shit lady! Quick kicking!"
Leaning against the trunk of the squad car, I was laughing every time Jack got kicked.
"You need help?" I asked, laughing.
"Yeah, smart ass,!" Jack said to me, "go ahead show me!"
Jack back away from the kicking lady,
"She's all yours Mr, Karate man!" Jack pissed, said sarcastically.
"Okay Jack," holding up my right index finger in the air, "One finger, just one finger, and she will go in the car willingly."
"Show me, don't talk, just show me!" Jack taunted.
I walked up to the kicking lady, still holding my right index finger up in the air,
"You going to get in the car?"
"No you fucking idiot!" and then kicked me in the shins.
I quickly took my index finger and pushed it into her neck just above her sternum between the sternoclavicular points of her clavicle. This is call the jugular notch, which has a bundle of nerves located there.
"Awk!" she choked at the painful pressure, and it force her to get relief by backing into the rear seat and sitting down, where I immediately fastened her seat belt to secure her. Shutting the door I smiled at Jack and walked past him, with my index finger in the air!
"One finger, just one finger Jack."
*********
*Dim mak (death touch) is an ancient martial art that consists of striking certain points on the body to cause illness or death. The points are usually called dim mak points, but they are also referred to as vital points and pressure points. The majority of these points correspond to the same locations as acupuncture points. Dim mak is an extremely dangerous martial art, which can cause a great deal of damage to the human body. Applying pre sure with fingers can cause extreme pain. Most Dim Mak specialists use finger strengthening techniques like push ups on your fingers tips, punching bag strikes with your finger tips, etc.
*Jujutsu, martial art from Japan consisting of grappling and striking techniques
(C) James J Alonzo
One night on routine patrol along the Lake Shore at about 3 a. m. Jack and I found a pickup truck on the beach, near a well known night club called "Micky Rats".
"Well, let's take a look and see if there is a driver and passenger," Jack said.
The truck had been rolled over and had a lot of damage to it. It was upside down, however, no bodies, no one was around it, and the keys were still in the ignition.
Our department's policy on one vehicle accidents like this, especially at night when we would have to call someone out, was that we would work the accident, do an accident investigation, only if a driver was present at the scene. We notified radio of the situation, description, and location. The day shift can handle this.
"I bet this clown calls in that his truck was stolen after he's sobered up enough to figure out his story." said Jack.
"Jack you are so distrusting!" I said sarcastically, "Such little faith in your fellow man. You need to change your evil ways.
We were sure the owner of the truck would call and report it as being stolen. It was not unusual for someone to get drunk, have an accident then try to report their vehicle as being stolen.
"West five", crackled the radio, "see the owner, a Mr. Paul Crowly, on stolen pickup truck accident, at parking lot of Micky Rats."
Sure enough, in a few minutes the dispatcher notified us that they had the owner of the truck on the phone reporting it as stolen.
"Radio, Roger that, eta five minutes."
After we got to the site, it wasn't but a couple of minutes he showed up. He had not even bothered changing clothes. He was wet and covered with sand from head to toe, also very highly intoxicated.
We started asking him questions,
"Where was your truck when it was stolen?" I asked, "and when?
"How'd you get wet?" Jack piped in, not giving him a chance to answer, "and how come you have beach sand all over you?"
He became very nervous and at this point we asked him,
"Do you realize if you had been driving," I said, " you could be charged with filing a false police report?"
"Just forget the whole thing if you don't believe me." he shouted with hostility, as he moved to go around me to walk off.
I looked at Jack, he smiled and moved away from the patrol vehicle, telling me with body language, that He was going to handle this.
Jack blocked the perp's path with his 6'4" 280 pound body and put his hand against the perp's chest to stop him from leaving and told him,
"You're going to wait because we're not finish Investigating this! In fact I think you were the driver!"
The perp slapped Jack's hand away and said,
"Get out of my way, Stupid!"
The perp quickly found that he had just done two things which you just don't do to Police Officers at 3 a.m., or any other time for that matter. Those two things were slap at them and call them names.
He also found out why this "'stupid' Officer" was nicknamed "The Choker." Jack reached out with his right hand and grabbed the perp by the throat. Jack over the years, had found this to be an effective hold early in his career and had used it a lot.
Jack found out that men do exactly what you want them to do, if you control their breathing, it does not matter how big or bad you are, you've got to have air to fight.
The perp hadn't counted on was the quick reaction of Jack who arrested the perp for resisting arrest, filing a false report, and disorderly conduct and put him in the patrol car.
While I went to close the door he yelled, "I want to talk to whoever is in charge!" I told him he was talking to the person who was in charge. At that point he calmed down and asked, "Would it help if I apologized?"
It didn't help, we were finished, we took him to jail.
******
During the period of our time as partners, Jack and I would lecture each other on things we felt the other was doing wrong. My pet peeve was Jack was a big strong man, and and expert at brute force. I on the other hand, standing at 5'10", and 160 lbs. used an art that I was well trained in, assorted martial arts, Ju Jit Su, Krav Magna, and Dim Mak*
The reader should keep in mind that this period I am wetting about is the 1970s into the 1980s, there was no such thing as a TASER(R).
One night on routine patrol, we got a radio call,
"FIVE WEST, SEE THE NEIGHBOR, 183 MILL STREET, VILLAGE ANGOLA, INTOXICATED WOMAN THROWING ROCKS AT HOUSES AND PASSING VEHICLES."
"Roger, 183 Mill Street." I responded.
"This should be simple enough," Jack said with a smile, Some crazy drunk broad."
"Try not to choke her or sit on her." I said laughing.
When we arrived, it wasn't hard to find the crazy lady, we spotted her immediately since she was in the process of throwing a rocks at our patrol vehicle!
"Judas Priest!" I shouted, "this broad is crazy!" As another rock bounced off my door.
After we exited the patrol vehicle we had to dodge more rocks, Jack shouting out for her to stop, charged her, tackling her. There was a crowd of people outside watching.
"You fucking pig! Get off me!" The crazy lady shouted as she was being hand cuffed by Jack.
She was dark haired, 5'3", about 110 lbs., wearing heavy construction type boots, blue jeans, and T-shirt.
"Shit pig, they're too tight!" she complained of the handcuffs being behind her back.
"Don't worry," I said, "The handcuffs are new but they'll stretch in time."
"Fuck you pig!"
"Thank you but I'll have to decline."
After Jack got the perp on her feet, she started kicking Jack's legs and tried to kick him in the balls. Jack, holding her arm, extended his muscled arm so her kicks couldn't reach him. He knew there was a crowd so he had to be careful that he didn't look like police brutality.
"You need help getting her in the car?" I asked.
"No!," Jack replied impatiently, "I don't need your damn help with this broad!"
He pulled her to the rear door of the squad car, and as he opened the door, she kicked him again in the shins!
"Shit!" Jack yelled, "Stop it!" but she continued kicking his shin!
He tried to push her into the back seat, by placing his big meaty hand on her stomach and pushing, but she arched her back, and refused to sit into the back seat, shouting,
"No I won't!"
"Just get in the car lady!"
When Jack stop pushing she would kick him in the shins again with those construction boots!
"Shit lady! Quick kicking!"
Leaning against the trunk of the squad car, I was laughing every time Jack got kicked.
"You need help?" I asked, laughing.
"Yeah, smart ass,!" Jack said to me, "go ahead show me!"
Jack back away from the kicking lady,
"She's all yours Mr, Karate man!" Jack pissed, said sarcastically.
"Okay Jack," holding up my right index finger in the air, "One finger, just one finger, and she will go in the car willingly."
"Show me, don't talk, just show me!" Jack taunted.
I walked up to the kicking lady, still holding my right index finger up in the air,
"You going to get in the car?"
"No you fucking idiot!" and then kicked me in the shins.
I quickly took my index finger and pushed it into her neck just above her sternum between the sternoclavicular points of her clavicle. This is call the jugular notch, which has a bundle of nerves located there.
"Awk!" she choked at the painful pressure, and it force her to get relief by backing into the rear seat and sitting down, where I immediately fastened her seat belt to secure her. Shutting the door I smiled at Jack and walked past him, with my index finger in the air!
"One finger, just one finger Jack."
*********
*Dim mak (death touch) is an ancient martial art that consists of striking certain points on the body to cause illness or death. The points are usually called dim mak points, but they are also referred to as vital points and pressure points. The majority of these points correspond to the same locations as acupuncture points. Dim mak is an extremely dangerous martial art, which can cause a great deal of damage to the human body. Applying pre sure with fingers can cause extreme pain. Most Dim Mak specialists use finger strengthening techniques like push ups on your fingers tips, punching bag strikes with your finger tips, etc.
*Jujutsu, martial art from Japan consisting of grappling and striking techniques
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Death of Our Personal History
Death of a Our Personal History
(C) James J Alonzo
Recently my nephew Doug told me a man named Dwayne died. Dwayne was a part of his life. This man was his mother’s boyfriend for many years, then they (his mother and boyfriend) finally split. To my nephew the man was a cruel man. He said to me,
“Dwayne died," Doug said very softly, "Because I hated him all this time, I should feel happy, but actually I feel a little sad.“
“You feel sad," I said, " because Dwayne, good or bad, was a part of your past. When a part of your past dies, there is a loss, because that person was a part of you, whether you liked him, loved him, or not. You will even mourn in a strange way. Regardless of how you feel or how he treated you, he was a contributor, of what makes you who you are now.”
I should not care," Doug said.
“When a person of your past dies," I said, " whether he be a friend, foe, parent, sibling, or some connection to your past, the world changes in a heartbeat. Oftentimes when such a loss occurs, others fail to recognize that the surviving person faces emotional battles on many fronts while working through the death. Largely ignored, survivors of the past are often referred to as the “forgotten mourners.”
Within this group of survivors is one that is unique—the adult survivor who lives away from home and is mourning the death of person of their past. In the case of an adult survivor, attention and words of comfort are usually aimed at the parents, spouse, and children, and siblings, not the survivors, who may have been out of touch with the deceased.
The Loss of History
Each family has its own special history and the shared bonds that are a part of that history. When a sibling dies, the bonds are shattered, and the history forever has a void that cannot be filled.
As they grow, children develop certain characteristics and talents. Brothers and sisters tend to complement each other by developing a balance of interests in different areas. However, surviving siblings will need to redefine their roles in the absence of this relationship.
The Loss of Future
When a sibling dies, all future special occasions will be forever changed. There will be no more shared birthday celebrations, anniversaries, or holidays. There will be no telephone calls telling of the birth of a new nephew or niece. The sharing of life’s unique and special events will never again take place.
What Adult Siblings May Expect
Survivor guilt is normal. Siblings usually have a relationship where they seek to protect each other. Despite the physical distance that may separate them as adults, this need to have provided protection weighs heavily in the aftermath of the loss.
Guilt about how the relationship was maintained is common. So often as adults, the sibling relationship has changed from younger years.. Each travels a separate path, and sometimes communication is lacking and ambivalent feelings about maintaining the relationship surface. No matter how good a relationship may have been, the survivor often believes it should have been better, causing guilt.
Anger over a new role within the family often occurs. A surviving sibling may now be the one expected to care for aging parents, and he or she may have to step into the role of guardian for nieces and nephews. Remaining family members may look to surviving siblings for guidance. All these situations are possible reasons to feel anger over a sibling’s death.
Fear of mortality
When a brother or sister dies, it is natural for the surviving sibling or siblings to look at their own lives and question how many years they have left, and what their deaths would do to their family. Surviving siblings may find positive changes within their lives. These may include greater emotional strength, increased independence, and a soul-searching reexamination of religious beliefs. Some survivors feel the need to make a change in their life’s work, such as becoming a therapist, or working to effect a change in the area that took the life of the sibling.
Even when a sibling has died, a connection still remains. Surviving brothers and sisters think about them; talk about them; remember them at special times such as birthdays, holidays, and death dates; and may create a memorial of some type. This connection with the sibling who died does not have to be given up to move forward in life.
Siblings may be ambivalent about their relationships in life, but in death the power of their bond strangles the surviving heart. Death reminds us that we are part of the same river, the same flow from the same source, rushing towards the same destiny.
Were you close? Yes, but we didn’t know it then.
Understanding from Others
Society often encourages bereaved individuals to feel guilty for grieving too long. This failure to receive validation of their grief can cause siblings to hide their feelings, causing a type of depression with which they may struggle for many years. If the surviving sibling is married, stress may also be introduced into the spousal relationship. Individuals grieve differently, and the spouse may be bewildered and even unsympathetic that this loss is causing so much sorrow in their own family. This situation may provoke comments such as,
“Why are you so upset? You haven’t been close to your family for years.” While this may sound reasonable, the emotions of grief and mourning are seldom reasonable—or even rational. Spouses may need to be told how they can be supportive. One woman simply asked her husband for a hug whenever she felt especially sad about the death of her sister.
Senior Citizens Who Lose a Sibling
When the sibling of a senior citizen dies, often those around this person feel that it is more normal for people to die as they age, and so there is no need to provide comfort or even acknowledge the death. In reality, whether the sibling who died is nine or ninety, the loss still wounds the heart. Oftentimes with senior citizen grief, the death of a sibling is compounded by the fact that the spouse and others important to them in their lives have preceded the sibling in death, leaving a void for feedback, comfort, and remembrance. One’s own mortality is often questioned.
Finding Support
Many siblings find help by talking with others about their brother or sister. However, even good friends can quickly become uncomfortable with the subject, often at just the point when their support is most needed. Often, simply finding another bereaved sibling with whom to share concerns and feelings provides a path toward healing. Adult siblings may be living in areas where no one knew their deceased brother or sister—or even of their existence. This can be painful at a time when the surviving sibling longs to share memories.
When Parents (or parental figure) Dies
When your parents die, it is said you lose your past; when your spouse dies, you lose your present; and when your child dies, you lose your future. However, when your sibling dies, you lose a part of your past, your present, and your future. Because of this tremendous loss, it is important that everyone work together to ease the path toward healing.
(C) James J Alonzo
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Undercover Operation
(tales Of The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
Jack in working for the police department, was a good cop and smart. One day Jack had
received a tip that Richard Weaver, the owner of a local Deli or convenience store was selling cigarettes and other tobacco products to minors as young as 12 years old. So he forward a report to the Chief, requesting assignment to catch and prosecute this dealer of cigarettes to children.
Jack's Chief called him in to a meeting about Jack's latest report,
"I read your report Jack, and I want to know how you propose to get evidence on this case?"
"Yes sir", Jack replied, "I have a 16 year old girl in mind. Her name is Sherri, I know her parents and she is the sister of one of our dispatchers. She will go in and make buys of cigarettes and even beer."
"Very well, but before we use her I want her interviewed by the State Attorneys Office and get their approval. We need to know that she can sit on the stand, testify in a court of law and get convictions."
"Yes sir," Jack said, " I will coordinate this for you sir."
The big night came. Jack was now in charge of this undercover operation. Jack coordinated with other officers their positions for surveillance. He put a wire on Sherri and sent her in while watching from a closed business across the street where they were able to see and hear the whole conversation.
The plan was to simply send her in and have her buy a pack and leave. Jack and the other cops would go in and make the arrest after she left.
When she went in, looked around, and observe the owner ringing out other customers at the register. Once the store was clear except for Sherri and the owner, Richard Weaver, Sherri approached,
"May I have a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes?"
"How old are you", asked Richard.
"18."
"Let me see your I D." Richard ordered.
Jack and the other officers that were watching and listening, figured if Richard were going to ID her, he would see that she was not 18, and toss her out. Much to their surprise, the clerk looked at her license,
"I thought so, you're too young, I can't sell you any smokes."
He handed her license back and shocked the whole surveillance team when he said
"You can't buy smokes...but do you smoke weed?"
Sherri was on the ball, she immediately answered,
"Yeah, I sure do!"
So Jack and the officers got it on tape, Richard Weaver selling Sherri, 1/4 bag for $ 40.00.
Sherri walked out smiling from ear to ear. The store owner got busted and got a lot tougher sentence than if he simply sold Sherri the smokes.
(tales Of The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
Jack in working for the police department, was a good cop and smart. One day Jack had
received a tip that Richard Weaver, the owner of a local Deli or convenience store was selling cigarettes and other tobacco products to minors as young as 12 years old. So he forward a report to the Chief, requesting assignment to catch and prosecute this dealer of cigarettes to children.
Jack's Chief called him in to a meeting about Jack's latest report,
"I read your report Jack, and I want to know how you propose to get evidence on this case?"
"Yes sir", Jack replied, "I have a 16 year old girl in mind. Her name is Sherri, I know her parents and she is the sister of one of our dispatchers. She will go in and make buys of cigarettes and even beer."
"Very well, but before we use her I want her interviewed by the State Attorneys Office and get their approval. We need to know that she can sit on the stand, testify in a court of law and get convictions."
"Yes sir," Jack said, " I will coordinate this for you sir."
The big night came. Jack was now in charge of this undercover operation. Jack coordinated with other officers their positions for surveillance. He put a wire on Sherri and sent her in while watching from a closed business across the street where they were able to see and hear the whole conversation.
The plan was to simply send her in and have her buy a pack and leave. Jack and the other cops would go in and make the arrest after she left.
When she went in, looked around, and observe the owner ringing out other customers at the register. Once the store was clear except for Sherri and the owner, Richard Weaver, Sherri approached,
"May I have a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes?"
"How old are you", asked Richard.
"18."
"Let me see your I D." Richard ordered.
Jack and the other officers that were watching and listening, figured if Richard were going to ID her, he would see that she was not 18, and toss her out. Much to their surprise, the clerk looked at her license,
"I thought so, you're too young, I can't sell you any smokes."
He handed her license back and shocked the whole surveillance team when he said
"You can't buy smokes...but do you smoke weed?"
Sherri was on the ball, she immediately answered,
"Yeah, I sure do!"
So Jack and the officers got it on tape, Richard Weaver selling Sherri, 1/4 bag for $ 40.00.
Sherri walked out smiling from ear to ear. The store owner got busted and got a lot tougher sentence than if he simply sold Sherri the smokes.
Undercover Operation
Undercover Operation
(tales Of The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
Jack in working for the police department, was a good cop and smart. One day Jack had
received a tip that Richard Weaver, the owner of a local Deli or convenience store was selling cigarettes and other tobacco products to minors as young as 12 years old. So he forward a report to the Chief, requesting assignment to catch and prosecute this dealer of cigarettes to children.
Jack's Chief called him in to a meeting about Jack's latest report,
"I read your report Jack, and I want to know how you propose to get evidence on this case?"
"Yes sir", Jack replied, "I have a 16 year old girl in mind. Her name is Sherri, I know her parents and she is the sister of one of our dispatchers. She will go in and make buys of cigarettes and even beer."
"Very well, but before we use her I want her interviewed by the State Attorneys Office and get their approval. We need to know that she can sit on the stand, testify in a court of law and get convictions."
"Yes sir," Jack said, " I will coordinate this for you sir."
The big night came. Jack was now in charge of this undercover operation. Jack coordinated with other officers their positions for surveillance. He put a wire on Sherri and sent her in while watching from a closed business across the street where they were able to see and hear the whole conversation.
The plan was to simply send her in and have her buy a pack and leave. Jack and the other cops would go in and make the arrest after she left.
When she went in, looked around, and observe the owner ringing out other customers at the register. Once the store was clear except for Sherri and the owner, Richard Weaver, Sherri approached,
"May I have a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes?"
"How old are you", asked Richard.
"18."
"Let me see your I D." Richard ordered.
Jack and the other officers that were watching and listening, figured if Richard were going to ID her, he would see that she was not 18, and toss her out. Much to their surprise, the clerk looked at her license,
"I thought so, you're too young, I can't sell you any smokes."
He handed her license back and shocked the whole surveillance team when he said
"You can't buy smokes...but do you smoke weed?"
Sherri was on the ball, she immediately answered,
"Yeah, I sure do!"
So Jack and the officers got it on tape, Richard Weaver selling Sherri, 1/4 bag for $ 40.00.
Sherri walked out smiling from ear to ear. The store owner got busted and got a lot tougher sentence than if he simply sold Sherri the smokes.
(tales Of The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
Jack in working for the police department, was a good cop and smart. One day Jack had
received a tip that Richard Weaver, the owner of a local Deli or convenience store was selling cigarettes and other tobacco products to minors as young as 12 years old. So he forward a report to the Chief, requesting assignment to catch and prosecute this dealer of cigarettes to children.
Jack's Chief called him in to a meeting about Jack's latest report,
"I read your report Jack, and I want to know how you propose to get evidence on this case?"
"Yes sir", Jack replied, "I have a 16 year old girl in mind. Her name is Sherri, I know her parents and she is the sister of one of our dispatchers. She will go in and make buys of cigarettes and even beer."
"Very well, but before we use her I want her interviewed by the State Attorneys Office and get their approval. We need to know that she can sit on the stand, testify in a court of law and get convictions."
"Yes sir," Jack said, " I will coordinate this for you sir."
The big night came. Jack was now in charge of this undercover operation. Jack coordinated with other officers their positions for surveillance. He put a wire on Sherri and sent her in while watching from a closed business across the street where they were able to see and hear the whole conversation.
The plan was to simply send her in and have her buy a pack and leave. Jack and the other cops would go in and make the arrest after she left.
When she went in, looked around, and observe the owner ringing out other customers at the register. Once the store was clear except for Sherri and the owner, Richard Weaver, Sherri approached,
"May I have a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes?"
"How old are you", asked Richard.
"18."
"Let me see your I D." Richard ordered.
Jack and the other officers that were watching and listening, figured if Richard were going to ID her, he would see that she was not 18, and toss her out. Much to their surprise, the clerk looked at her license,
"I thought so, you're too young, I can't sell you any smokes."
He handed her license back and shocked the whole surveillance team when he said
"You can't buy smokes...but do you smoke weed?"
Sherri was on the ball, she immediately answered,
"Yeah, I sure do!"
So Jack and the officers got it on tape, Richard Weaver selling Sherri, 1/4 bag for $ 40.00.
Sherri walked out smiling from ear to ear. The store owner got busted and got a lot tougher sentence than if he simply sold Sherri the smokes.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Seeing Eye What???
Seeing Eye What!
(C) James J Alonzo
At 3 AM, One warm summer evening, Jack, my partner was driving the patrol vehicle and I was riding shotgun. As we were driving down route 5 in Evans, New York, we came upon a mustang convertible, top down enjoying the summer breeze. However the driver was driving erratically, staying on the right side of the road, but drifting side to side of the highway, so we assumed this may be a DWI, 'driving while intoxicated' bust.
We followed him to see if this was just a fluke, but we were right, however there was an oddity,
"Jack, what's that on his left shoulder?" I asked
"Shit, I don't know." Jack responded, and hit lights and siren. "It looks like some kind of a hat?"
The driver increased his speed, and because of the speed increase, more defined erratic driving. As we got closer, I could see the driver was wearing one of the baseball caps with the bill facing the read of the car, and next to his head,
"It's a bird!" I shouted,
"Shut up! That's not a bird!"
"I'm telling you, he had a large bird on his shoulder! Maybe he's a pirate!! We never arrested aerate!"
I love taunting Jack, and we loved haranguing each other and every opportunity.
"Shut up! A Pirate, you're an idiot!"
As the driver finally slowed down, and finally pulled over, we pulled behind the Mustang,
"Jim, it's a damn bird on his shoulder!"
"I told you! I bet he's some kind of pirate!" I taunted Jack.
As we approached the vehicle, I placed myself on the passenger side of the Mustang convertible. Jack walked up to the driver's side. It was easy to look in the vehicle since the top was down. Looking in the car we saw the driver was wearing very dark glasses, and wearing a live red & blue colored McCaw parrot on his shoulder.*
"WATCH IT PUKEFACE!" squawked the bird. It spoke real loud.**
When the bird squawked, it was loud, Jack reactively jumped back, then stepped forward again. **
"Sir were you drinking tonight?"
"No I wasn't drinking!" replied the driver.
"Sir, driver's license, registration, and insurance card." Jack asked the driver extending his hand.
"Watch out Jack!" i was Laughing at Jack's reaction, "Killer parrot!"
"It's not a killer parrot!" insisted the driver, "it's my seeing eye bird."
"IT'S THE FUZZ! " squawked the parrot! "PIG! LOOK OUT!"
"Shhh! Precious," said the driver to the parrot. Then to Jack, "I don't have a driver's license, because I'm blind. That's why I have a seeing eye parrot."
This was going to be entertaining, because I know Jack doesn't have much patience when he encounters the weird, and this was weird. Besides that, the volume of this parrot's squawks was really loud, and it kind of hurt your hearing.
"Yeah right!" said Jack sarcastically, looking at me wondering if this was a prank. "I saw you driving, give me your drivers license!"
"EAT SHIT PIG!" squawked Precious.
I reached over in front of the driver's eyes and moved my hand back and forth,
"Yep, the driver's blind Jack."
"Of course I'm blind you jerk! I told you that!"
"STUPID PIG! STUPID PIG!" squawked the parrot at me, cracking me up.
"Sir, do you have any identification?" Jack asked pissed. I was laughing at this situation, and Jack's discomfort.
The driver gave us his Identification, his name was Norman Dehn, and it was true, he was blind and had an Americans with disabilities I D card.
"Sir, first of all you cannot drive if you are blind, that's the law! Second, you can not drive with a parrot telling YOU how to drive!"
"Why not, it's my seeing eye parrot, and it was trained to sit on my shoulder and warn me about obstacles and such. It speaks up to four word sentences."
"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE PIG!" squawked the bird as it tried to nip Jack.
Jack looked at me in his frustration, and with a smile, I hand signaled to Jack that perhaps he should shoot the bird!
"Sir out of the car, and keep that damn bird under control."
"SHUT UP PIG!" squawked Precious. Damn, that bird was loud!
I just had to ask, how that bird worked into being made a seeing eye parrot. Mr Dehn explained that he all his life was able to see however, one day his eyes bothering him, his doctor told him he was going blind. He went home to his pet parrot, that he had for a few years, and as alway the bird chatted away with him. Then it struck him, why can't the bird learn to see for him, after all parrots were as smart as dogs, maybe more.
So he trained the bird to tell him if something was in the way, or tell him to turn left or right, and after a year the bird had caught on. The bird had a huge vocabulary, knew words like coffee table, steps, step up, step down, duck, turn left, turn right, but also sword like a sailor.
Jack and I watched Mr. Dehn get out of his vehicle, the bird on his shoulder,
"Precious, take me to the car." Mr.Dehn said.
"TURN AROUND! WALK!" squawked the bird.
Mr. Dehn turned and walk towards the patrol vehicle. After Jack opened the door,
"Get in the car Mr. Dehn."
"DUCK YOU HEAD!" squawked the bird.
We took him home and didn't charge him. Mr. Dehn called the owner of the car and told them where to pick up the car.
On the way back I was thinking of another idea,
"You know Jack, I was thinking."
"I don't want to hear it!"
"Why don't we start a training academy for seeing eye parrots?"
"No, leave me alone! you and your hair brain ideas, professional mourners, and now seeing eye parrot academy!"
*******
*Macaws are social birds and need plenty of interaction. They can be very loud.
** A macaw can scream at over 105 dB. (decibals). Macaws are highly intelligent. Some may talk, others may never talk.
Macaws can live 30+ years. For some of the larger macaws 80-100 isn't unheard of.
Intelligence of a 3-8 year old child, emotional range of a 2-3 year old child, may throw tantrums to get attention, great sense of humor, can tease you and other members of your family (including other pets), require a lot of attention, can be very demanding, need to be kept busy with attention, toys, and training, love to chew, love showers, some species are good family birds, some are prone to becoming one-person birds, some are described as clownish, energetic, playful, like to roughhouse, some can be nippy and aggressive, some love to cuddle.
***********************
(C) James J Alonzo
At 3 AM, One warm summer evening, Jack, my partner was driving the patrol vehicle and I was riding shotgun. As we were driving down route 5 in Evans, New York, we came upon a mustang convertible, top down enjoying the summer breeze. However the driver was driving erratically, staying on the right side of the road, but drifting side to side of the highway, so we assumed this may be a DWI, 'driving while intoxicated' bust.
We followed him to see if this was just a fluke, but we were right, however there was an oddity,
"Jack, what's that on his left shoulder?" I asked
"Shit, I don't know." Jack responded, and hit lights and siren. "It looks like some kind of a hat?"
The driver increased his speed, and because of the speed increase, more defined erratic driving. As we got closer, I could see the driver was wearing one of the baseball caps with the bill facing the read of the car, and next to his head,
"It's a bird!" I shouted,
"Shut up! That's not a bird!"
"I'm telling you, he had a large bird on his shoulder! Maybe he's a pirate!! We never arrested aerate!"
I love taunting Jack, and we loved haranguing each other and every opportunity.
"Shut up! A Pirate, you're an idiot!"
As the driver finally slowed down, and finally pulled over, we pulled behind the Mustang,
"Jim, it's a damn bird on his shoulder!"
"I told you! I bet he's some kind of pirate!" I taunted Jack.
As we approached the vehicle, I placed myself on the passenger side of the Mustang convertible. Jack walked up to the driver's side. It was easy to look in the vehicle since the top was down. Looking in the car we saw the driver was wearing very dark glasses, and wearing a live red & blue colored McCaw parrot on his shoulder.*
"WATCH IT PUKEFACE!" squawked the bird. It spoke real loud.**
When the bird squawked, it was loud, Jack reactively jumped back, then stepped forward again. **
"Sir were you drinking tonight?"
"No I wasn't drinking!" replied the driver.
"Sir, driver's license, registration, and insurance card." Jack asked the driver extending his hand.
"Watch out Jack!" i was Laughing at Jack's reaction, "Killer parrot!"
"It's not a killer parrot!" insisted the driver, "it's my seeing eye bird."
"IT'S THE FUZZ! " squawked the parrot! "PIG! LOOK OUT!"
"Shhh! Precious," said the driver to the parrot. Then to Jack, "I don't have a driver's license, because I'm blind. That's why I have a seeing eye parrot."
This was going to be entertaining, because I know Jack doesn't have much patience when he encounters the weird, and this was weird. Besides that, the volume of this parrot's squawks was really loud, and it kind of hurt your hearing.
"Yeah right!" said Jack sarcastically, looking at me wondering if this was a prank. "I saw you driving, give me your drivers license!"
"EAT SHIT PIG!" squawked Precious.
I reached over in front of the driver's eyes and moved my hand back and forth,
"Yep, the driver's blind Jack."
"Of course I'm blind you jerk! I told you that!"
"STUPID PIG! STUPID PIG!" squawked the parrot at me, cracking me up.
"Sir, do you have any identification?" Jack asked pissed. I was laughing at this situation, and Jack's discomfort.
The driver gave us his Identification, his name was Norman Dehn, and it was true, he was blind and had an Americans with disabilities I D card.
"Sir, first of all you cannot drive if you are blind, that's the law! Second, you can not drive with a parrot telling YOU how to drive!"
"Why not, it's my seeing eye parrot, and it was trained to sit on my shoulder and warn me about obstacles and such. It speaks up to four word sentences."
"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE PIG!" squawked the bird as it tried to nip Jack.
Jack looked at me in his frustration, and with a smile, I hand signaled to Jack that perhaps he should shoot the bird!
"Sir out of the car, and keep that damn bird under control."
"SHUT UP PIG!" squawked Precious. Damn, that bird was loud!
I just had to ask, how that bird worked into being made a seeing eye parrot. Mr Dehn explained that he all his life was able to see however, one day his eyes bothering him, his doctor told him he was going blind. He went home to his pet parrot, that he had for a few years, and as alway the bird chatted away with him. Then it struck him, why can't the bird learn to see for him, after all parrots were as smart as dogs, maybe more.
So he trained the bird to tell him if something was in the way, or tell him to turn left or right, and after a year the bird had caught on. The bird had a huge vocabulary, knew words like coffee table, steps, step up, step down, duck, turn left, turn right, but also sword like a sailor.
Jack and I watched Mr. Dehn get out of his vehicle, the bird on his shoulder,
"Precious, take me to the car." Mr.Dehn said.
"TURN AROUND! WALK!" squawked the bird.
Mr. Dehn turned and walk towards the patrol vehicle. After Jack opened the door,
"Get in the car Mr. Dehn."
"DUCK YOU HEAD!" squawked the bird.
We took him home and didn't charge him. Mr. Dehn called the owner of the car and told them where to pick up the car.
On the way back I was thinking of another idea,
"You know Jack, I was thinking."
"I don't want to hear it!"
"Why don't we start a training academy for seeing eye parrots?"
"No, leave me alone! you and your hair brain ideas, professional mourners, and now seeing eye parrot academy!"
*******
*Macaws are social birds and need plenty of interaction. They can be very loud.
** A macaw can scream at over 105 dB. (decibals). Macaws are highly intelligent. Some may talk, others may never talk.
Macaws can live 30+ years. For some of the larger macaws 80-100 isn't unheard of.
Intelligence of a 3-8 year old child, emotional range of a 2-3 year old child, may throw tantrums to get attention, great sense of humor, can tease you and other members of your family (including other pets), require a lot of attention, can be very demanding, need to be kept busy with attention, toys, and training, love to chew, love showers, some species are good family birds, some are prone to becoming one-person birds, some are described as clownish, energetic, playful, like to roughhouse, some can be nippy and aggressive, some love to cuddle.
***********************
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Attack From The Rear!
Attack On The Rear!
(C) James J Alonzo
I worked as a K-9 officer with Saber was my K-9. He had become a Great partner and between the two of us, we trained each other well. As the Saber was a very good dog, however the hardest part was getting around his independent streak, and his willingness to argue with me, sometime at the most inopportune times.
When the leash was connected to Saber's collar, and I was holding the leash, I commanded. The dog was very obedient and versatile and was very good at tracking, locating drugs, and intimidating crowds.
However Saber never got over his exuberance to bite. Sometimes when I was cleaning his kennel, saber would sneak up behind me and nip me in the ass. This was his way of telling me,
"I want to play, so hurry up!"
One night, I got a call, 'burglary in progress', so it was lights and siren all the way. This was another problem with Saber, fir he would stand directly behind my head, and against the screen or cage, he would bark all the way!
"Will you shut up!" I'd shouted.
Saber would pounce against the cage banging it so hard, my head would rattle,
"BANG!"
I thought he was going to break it! When Saber and I got there, I opened the rear door once I had the leash in hand. The second patrol vehicle showed up, and I said,
"Take the rear!"
The house was one of those large mansions that had very large chain link connected to poles that stood a mere three feet above the ground. The chain drooped between the poles at a height of two feet, more for decoration than security. I ran up the front door it was secure, but Saber caught a scent that went off to the side, towards the woods.
"Search Saber, search!"
I radio backup and told him the situation, and I heard him coming around the house towards us. I could see tracks in the snow, I took off running, Saber running along side of me. When we got to the chain links, I didn't slow down, and jumped over the lowest part of the hanging chain.
I knew I was in trouble when I felt the rearward jerk and at the same time seeing my feet shoot up to the height of my vision!
"OOOMFFF!"
When I jumped the chain links, Saber decided that no one had trained him to jump fences, low hanging chains, short bushes, so he sat his 175 lb body down! As I laid there trying to suck in air from any orifice, into my lungs, I heard the other officer run past us laughing,
"Want me to call back up, or get you a ladder for your dog??"
****
(For two weeks after that incident, I worked with Saber jumping over obstacles. By the time I was finished he had no trouble jumping over four foot high fences, nor climbing ladders)
****
Except for the occasional ass bite, I enjoyed having the dog for back up. When I made a traffic stop, I would leave the driver's side window open, as well as the cage between the front seat and the kennel - which was in the rear seat area. That way the dog could respond if I called for him.
One night, I made a traffic stop on a very noisy drunk driver. The driver was much larger than I and apparently thought he could take me on. I called for back up, and immediately pushed him up against the auto. Ducking a slow loping right hook, I easily handled him, and had him up against the trunk of his car and had just gotten the handcuffs on. Suddenly, Saber over excited by the the commotion of the arrest, appeared next to me and bit the drunk driver in the ass.
"Shit!, " shouted the perp.
I didn't say a thing, just looked down at the dog in astonishment! I snapped my arm, hand pointed Saber to our car! The dog, suddenly aware that he was in deep trouble, ran back to the patrol vehicle, jumped in the driver's side window, and into the kennel in the rear seat.
The drunk driver apparently never saw the dog. When the backup patrol vehicle showed up to transport the perp, the officer placed the drunk driver in the rear seat of the vehicle.
When I got into our vehicle I was pissed,
" You are a sorry excuse for a police K-9, sneaking up on that perp and biting him? Shame on you!"
Saber, instead of barking at me, just laid down on the seat and didn't make a sound. I drove to the station and on arrival, I left Saber in the vehicle to pout.
"You should feel bad!" I said enjoying Saber's discomfort.
When the officer brought the drunk driver into the jail where the rest of us were waiting, the outraged driver said,
"i want to lodge a complaint! Do you know what this deputy did?" "He bit me in the ass!"
********
(C) James J Alonzo
I worked as a K-9 officer with Saber was my K-9. He had become a Great partner and between the two of us, we trained each other well. As the Saber was a very good dog, however the hardest part was getting around his independent streak, and his willingness to argue with me, sometime at the most inopportune times.
When the leash was connected to Saber's collar, and I was holding the leash, I commanded. The dog was very obedient and versatile and was very good at tracking, locating drugs, and intimidating crowds.
However Saber never got over his exuberance to bite. Sometimes when I was cleaning his kennel, saber would sneak up behind me and nip me in the ass. This was his way of telling me,
"I want to play, so hurry up!"
One night, I got a call, 'burglary in progress', so it was lights and siren all the way. This was another problem with Saber, fir he would stand directly behind my head, and against the screen or cage, he would bark all the way!
"Will you shut up!" I'd shouted.
Saber would pounce against the cage banging it so hard, my head would rattle,
"BANG!"
I thought he was going to break it! When Saber and I got there, I opened the rear door once I had the leash in hand. The second patrol vehicle showed up, and I said,
"Take the rear!"
The house was one of those large mansions that had very large chain link connected to poles that stood a mere three feet above the ground. The chain drooped between the poles at a height of two feet, more for decoration than security. I ran up the front door it was secure, but Saber caught a scent that went off to the side, towards the woods.
"Search Saber, search!"
I radio backup and told him the situation, and I heard him coming around the house towards us. I could see tracks in the snow, I took off running, Saber running along side of me. When we got to the chain links, I didn't slow down, and jumped over the lowest part of the hanging chain.
I knew I was in trouble when I felt the rearward jerk and at the same time seeing my feet shoot up to the height of my vision!
"OOOMFFF!"
When I jumped the chain links, Saber decided that no one had trained him to jump fences, low hanging chains, short bushes, so he sat his 175 lb body down! As I laid there trying to suck in air from any orifice, into my lungs, I heard the other officer run past us laughing,
"Want me to call back up, or get you a ladder for your dog??"
****
(For two weeks after that incident, I worked with Saber jumping over obstacles. By the time I was finished he had no trouble jumping over four foot high fences, nor climbing ladders)
****
Except for the occasional ass bite, I enjoyed having the dog for back up. When I made a traffic stop, I would leave the driver's side window open, as well as the cage between the front seat and the kennel - which was in the rear seat area. That way the dog could respond if I called for him.
One night, I made a traffic stop on a very noisy drunk driver. The driver was much larger than I and apparently thought he could take me on. I called for back up, and immediately pushed him up against the auto. Ducking a slow loping right hook, I easily handled him, and had him up against the trunk of his car and had just gotten the handcuffs on. Suddenly, Saber over excited by the the commotion of the arrest, appeared next to me and bit the drunk driver in the ass.
"Shit!, " shouted the perp.
I didn't say a thing, just looked down at the dog in astonishment! I snapped my arm, hand pointed Saber to our car! The dog, suddenly aware that he was in deep trouble, ran back to the patrol vehicle, jumped in the driver's side window, and into the kennel in the rear seat.
The drunk driver apparently never saw the dog. When the backup patrol vehicle showed up to transport the perp, the officer placed the drunk driver in the rear seat of the vehicle.
When I got into our vehicle I was pissed,
" You are a sorry excuse for a police K-9, sneaking up on that perp and biting him? Shame on you!"
Saber, instead of barking at me, just laid down on the seat and didn't make a sound. I drove to the station and on arrival, I left Saber in the vehicle to pout.
"You should feel bad!" I said enjoying Saber's discomfort.
When the officer brought the drunk driver into the jail where the rest of us were waiting, the outraged driver said,
"i want to lodge a complaint! Do you know what this deputy did?" "He bit me in the ass!"
********
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)