What If ?

As part of the domestic duties I assumed after retirement, I was washing dishes last evening; along with laundry and carpet maintenance, it's what I do to help my wife keep the household ship-shape. After all, she works full-time; it's the least I can do to make life a little easier for my redheaded angel.

Anyway, I was recalling occurrences from my past while scrubbing a casserole dish, thinking about growing up and all the people who'd  been involved in or a part of those better times; relatives who have since died, neighborhood friends, pals from high school, and it got me to thinking about 'what if?'.

For instance, what if we hadn't moved into the Madison school district and the house I grew up in on Hout Road? I would have never met Dean Blamer or sons Dear Jr and Dale; Dean had significant influence on the career path I chose because, being that I was around his sons so much, I'd often be at their house two doors up and have the opportunity to hear some of his cop stories. Those tales sparked the fire that drove me in the direction of law enforcement. Dean Jr retired just last week from the Gahanna Police Department; he, too, having been influenced by his Dad, without doubt.

 Then there was Rick Utt, who was the fastest kid in the neighborhood, and his brother John, with whom I would work at Mansfield PD. The Guegolds lived right next door; George Jr, who I graduated with, now owns Schneider's Bakery on Orange Street and makes the best apple fritters in Richland county. Across the road were the Lucas and the Thomas families, both with multiple kids in the house. Our front yard would become the neighborhood whiffle ball field, complete with base
paths worn  down to the dirt. Mom and Dad didn't mind, and all these years later I realize it was because they knew where I was and what I was doing.

John Utt, who I occasionally run across at Kroger's, still reminds me to this day of the rule against cussing while playing at our place.

What if I'd taken more time to talk to my relatives who were veterans of war? My Grandpa Clark, who died the day after my birthday in 1973, served in Europe in World War One, or 'the Great War', as his generation called it, 'the war to end all wars.'

Adolph Hitler and Emperor Hirohito would change all that in 1941, and war hasn't slowed down much since.

Grandpa used to tell of being in a fox hole, trying to convert his fellow soldiers while under artillery bombardment; he would become a minister for the rest of his adult life after the war. I wish that I would have had the interest in history I now have, would have asked questions about life in the United States Army in 1918. What if I'd have asked my Grandma Jackson's brothers about what they'd seen and experienced during their service in World War Two in the Pacific Theater? Realizing now what a missed opportunity those were might explain my love of writing veterans' stories for the newspaper that I now have.

What if I'd spent my entire police career in Ontario? When I left for MPD in 1984, I couldn't envision the village becoming the retail/entertainment center it now is, never mind transitioning from 'village' to 'city' status. Several of the men I worked with back then are gone from this life now: Denny Reid, Tim McClaran, Keith Miller, Cal Miller, Bob Krauss, Dick Hamrick and Rex Knee. Rod Smith, who was one of our dispatchers, went on to become Chief of Police; he's retired now, too. I still count Mike Burchett and Ron Dille as close friends from those days and still see them on a regular basis.

Then again, I would have never met and become friends with guys such as Jan Wendling, Bob Powers, Dave Nirode, Jim Gadd and the man I call my 'little brother', Gary Foster. . I have a memory filled with good, funny and rather exciting times from Mansfield PD.

The flip side of that coin is some of the horrible things that came along with being a policeman in the largest city in this area, terrible scenes that still visit occasionally during the night.. The Darla Ward homicide scene and the dead infant on France Street are two that jump to the head of that awful line.

What if I'd never suffered the very painful spinal injury while there, causing eight hours of surgery and forcing me out of MPD? Where would my career have ended in the department if I'd been able to stay?

I can tell you one thing: I would never have met and married Stacy who, in my opinion, saved me from myself. I would never have worked at Lexington PD with Brett Pauley, whose wife Heather introduced me to Stacy; nor would I have had the opportunity to work with some pretty good coppers like my old night shift partner Troy Weaver, or Jon VanHouten, who is possibly the funniest man I know...next to Jan Wendling. Jon is also an excellent investigator; if I were a criminal, I sure wouldn't want him after me, even if he IS afraid of cemeteries.

We can 'what if" our entire lives, you see, but on this day, at this moment?

I wouldn't change a thing.