“Ma, that’s not faaaaiiiir”

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Dear Family, I regret to inform you all that I will be unavailable via cell for the next two days. No, I didn’t lose my phone or drop it in the toilet, and no, my mom did not forget to pay the bill. I am phone-less by my own fault – see my mom entered my room this morning and asked me to get up and head to the shower (it was 7 a.m. and we were going to mass at 8:30)… I responded by saying “ma, that’s not fair” (in my whiny baby voice).
She returned a couple of minutes later and asked again that I get up. I responded the same way as before.
The third time she came in she said two words “Tanner, consequences” –
you all know what I said.
Well on the fourth time she said “Tanner, consequences, consequences Tanner”!
My lazy self told my self with sense to get up but… well… I didn’t, and
believe it or not, she didn’t do anything crazy like flip my mattress or pour cold water on me, she simply walked past my room saying “no phone or games at all today”!
I whined a little louder – “no Ma, that’s not fair” … but I STILL didn’t get up 🙀
On the sixth time that the Lord sent my mama past that door, she said these words “that’s 2 days and the next time I come in here it’s a week”!
Yes, that got my attention. I got up and yes, I’m angry now, and yes, my mama wrote this!
(This is not a political ad and although Tanner Harris did not write and does not support this message, I wrote it and I endorse it and she better abide by it or she’s gonna taste the rainbow– tu-day!)

Please do yourself a favor and read the next post— it’s my family’s response to this message and it’s hilarious—–

 

My Kevlar Vest

I’ve worn a Kevlar Vest for so many years I’ve lost count. I still remember the first time I put one on. The person holding the tape measure was far more comfortable than I. I was as nervous wreck. I’d never felt the need to wear one before, mine had been a straight forward, by the book kind of life. Yes, there were some days that were more trying than others, but I’d always been in total control of any and all situations. I always played close to the edge, but never intentionally and never with any conscious desire to cross it.

On that day, so, so, many years ago I found myself in unfamiliar territory. Was I sure I could handle this? I mean, this was a responsibility that I was sure many dreamed of, but few indulged in. An elite crowd, a closed group… the chosen few… but if they were chosen, who was doing the choosing? From where I stood, it wasn’t a choice, there were no check yes or no boxes. No matter how long or how hard you danced around it, knowingly or unknowingly, and no matter who the dance instructor was, you would eventually trip and stumble, and fate would be standing in the shadows waiting to catch you when you fell.

Little did I realize, measuring me was a mere formality. My vest was ready long before I arrived at this day. The maker, not the measurer, knew me. The maker also knew the challenges I would face once I accepted that unwritten invitation, the one that had been stamped on my heart since the moment I was conceived. They would be more than I could handle alone— and that would never be allowed.

 

Meet and Greet: 7/14/17

Look everyone, Danny’s at it again.
Jump in and introduce yourselves…. that’s what I did!

Dream Big, Dream Often

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It’s the bimonthly Meet and Greet everyone!!  Strap on your party shoes and join the fun!  

Ok so here are the rules:

  1. Leave a link to your page or post in the comments of this post.
  2. Reblog this post.  It helps you, it helps me, it helps everyone!
  3. Edit your reblog post and add tags.
  4. Feel free to leave your link multiple times!  It is okay to update your link for more exposure every day if you want.  It is up to you!

  5. Share this post on social media.  Many of my non-blogger friends love that I put the Meet n Greet on Facebook and Twitter because they find new blogs to follow.

See ya on Monday!!

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The “er” factor

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—

 

I am an outraged African American law enforcement officer!

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so it begins…

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…