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I had a conversation with a friend in which we were discussing relationships. We talked about the ins and outs, the goods and the bads and everything in between. We even talked about what I refer to as the “er” factor. You know the feeling you get or have when the relationship ends and the smoke clears.
We talked for several hours and when the conversation finally ended we decided to take a poll (for fun) just to see how many different “ers” there actually were.
So go for it— share your “er” with us…
It doesn’t have to be the “er” from a break up… it just needs to a relationship related “er”.
Here I’ll start us off-
I once dated a guy I’d met at a friend’s pool party. He wasn’t really my type but I wasn’t seeing anyone and he seemed nice so I agreed to go out with him. We’d only gone out four times when he popped the question. Talk about a desperate weirdo, I mean how else could I describe a guy who, on the fourth date, asks if he could borrow a cd from my “Jackson 5 Greatest Hits” collection? My “er” word for Mr. “I wish I had a Michael Jackson bobble head like yours”?—
ABSOLUTER– Expressing finality with no implication of possible change
Why? Because I knew he had an absoluter snowballs chance in hell of seeing me again —absolutely no way—
Shall you pour yourself a nice tall drink
If you plan to come and sit?
Shall I bore you with my rhetoric
Or dazzle you with wit?
Should you enjoy my company
Shall you visit me again
If you invite me to return
Will you appear insane?
Should I hold back on intros
Or should I call your name?
Should I hold close my secret desires
And say you never came?
For it is with my eyes wide shut
That I must say to you
I’ve wrapped you in my latest web
As all black widows do~~~
growing old together…
holding hands as one watches the other die…
I am an African American. I am a law enforcement officer. I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
Over the last few years, there have been so many innocent African American lives lost at the hands of my “thin blue line” brothers (and sisters) that I have lost count. I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
More than 20 years ago, I took an oath to protect and serve -PERIOD! I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
The oath I took didn’t have check off boxes where I could specify or omit any person and or group of people. I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
To my dismay, I learned early on (September 8, 1989, the day I graduated from the police academy) that racism was an alive and well animal in the law enforcement arena. I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer. Over the next 20 some odd years I would go on to see faded “white only” signs on doors in the basement of my city’s courthouse; fellow -and I use the term “fellow” loosely-officers kick, punch and spit on African American suspects while handcuffing them and calling them niggers and I even saw officers disrespect older members, 70 and 80 year old men, of our community by calling them “boy”. The most damning situation was the one in which I was placed in handcuffs, while driving my unmarked unit, wearing my police gear and en route to work. I was stopped for speeding by one of the departments most racist officers, one who is known throughout the county for harassing African American citizens. I was later told that he became pissed at me when I referred to him as John David instead of G. David. If he had handcuffed a “fellow” officer for calling him John, go figure what he’d do to a common citizen. To continue to list instances of this sort would serve no purpose here- but believe me there have been hundreds. I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
In my opinion, the violators in each of those situations were the men and women who ignored and overlooked the signs on the doors and the officers whose behavior must be considered nothing less than deplorable, all of whom were caucasian. I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
Fast forward to July, 2016. In the short span of 72 hours there have been the senseless killings of two African American men, Philando Castile of Minnesota and Alton Sterling of Louisiana, both of whom were shot by police officers.
To law enforcement officers around the world who condone, participate in or turn a blind eye to this type of BS, which clearly precipitated the senseless deaths of 5 Texas police officers who were murdered overnight in Dallas, Texas (in some sort of retaliation, sniper shooting spree) I have these words:
That oath you took came with certain rights and responsibilities. When did protect and serve become “cuff and stuff” or “shoot first, ask questions later”? Who, exactly, died and left you God? What makes you think you can mistreat, mishandle and/or disrespect people based on the color of YOUR skin? If you took the oath, and at some point during your career you have become confused about your rights duties and obligations, I highly suggest the following: a refresher police academy stint, refer to the oath for clarification or take off that uniform, locate and grab those two little gems in your trousers that help you perpetuate your craft, go to Mawmaw’s linen closet, pull out her best white King size pillow case and sheets, have her cut some holes in it for your eyes, mouth and nose and slip into your fresh new uniform. Maybe if those little gems I mentioned earlier weren’t so small, you’d have the balls to either display your true colors- KKK white – or truly defend and stand for my true colors — thin blue line- black and blue!
In closing, I ask that God watch over the families of all these victims, Philando Castile and Alton Sterling’s and slain officers, Lorne Ahrens, Michael Smith, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol and Brent Thompson.
I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer.
So this morning I walked out into my yard and discovered this…
These are blooms from one of the many crepe myrtle trees in my yard. Notice the colors and also notice the stems they are growing on and from. Yes, this one tree has produced blooms in two different colors. Simply beautiful….
What happens when you find yourself falling in love with your very best friend? Do you simply relax and enjoy the ride? Do you fight it for all you’re worth… afraid that it’ll ruin things forever? Or do you stand down…run like hell leaving both relationships to dissipate like a cloud of dust after a windstorm on the prairie? Well, if you’re anything like me you wind up wanting to do all of the above— simultaneously, and then some.
You’ve got a wealth of emotion riding on your sleeve with every waking moment… not to mention the ever so romantic horse drawn carriage rides you take together in your dreams. Where did this come from? Has it been hidden, ever so conspicuously, just below the surface… just out of reach… waiting to smite you into the tailspin of a lifetime? Come on it’s your best friend. You’ve known all along that there was a helluva connection but you both thought it was strictly platonic… until that fateful day when the rubber (no pun intended) hit the road. It happened so suddenly… so suddenly that the fireworks that would have gone off in your head were silenced by the sound of your own beating heart. You became entangled in a rapture of love, no holds barred, get it and give it where you live type of affair never before seen or felt. An affair that would break all the rules, stand the test of time and stand the test of writing, making and breaking new rules of engagement for people throughout history.
How do you handle this when its too good to let go; you know, too scary to fathom, not to mention too nerve racking to fully embrace such an outlandish notion. Who does this? Do people in their right minds really allow this type of nonsense to happen? Well they do, it does, and it has.
And So It Begins…
I truly enjoy making candy during the holiday season, and one of my faves is pralines or pecan candy. Unfortunately, pecans have been hard to come by this year in my neck of the woods, but thanks to google I was able to locate a distributor in a neighboring state; so I left work this evening at 4:30 and drove 25 miles out of town, during rush hour traffic, in order to reach a pecan distributor before they closed for the evening. Based on the info posted on the website, the hours of operation are 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. which actually gave me about an hour to arrive, which I did with 29 minutes to spare. Unfortunately, my 5:01 p.m. arrival was met by a locked door and a 9-5 -hours of operation- sign posted on the front door. My editor in chief (EIC) immediately removed her cellular device from her purse to verify the internet posted hours.When she was satisfied that we had not been mistaken, she made phone contact with the store owners, who were very likely exiting through the back door, as I tried to enter through the front. She was very polite and cordial as she asked if the store was in fact closed. After being told “yes, we close at 5”, EIC advised the store owner that the hours posted on the website were apparently incorrect. Here’s the interesting part, the owner said “people do that”; and here’s my question… what the hell does that mean? I drove 25 miles out of my way, in what is commonly known around these parts as “shipyard traffic”, to be told “people do that”. Really? I mean seriously, is this real life?