This past Sunday I had the opportunity to take my grandson Butch for a visit to the police department where I spent most of my law enforcement career: Mansfield PD.
Butch, being an inquisitive five-year-old, had asked me once about being a policeman: I'd given him a thumbnail sketch of the job, then drove by 30 North Diamond and pointed out the city building, where Papaw used to work. I knew what his next comment would be.
"Can we stop, Papaw?"
That was last fall. I wanted his first encounter with the world in which I once lived, where a part of me still remains, to be special, one he'll remember long after I'm gone. I told him we'd stop another time.
That time was last Sunday.
Thanks to my friend and brother in blue. Korey Kaufman, it was a very special visit. For those that don't know him, Korey is a combat-hardened Marine veteran with a heart of gold. He's also one of several K9 handlers at Mansfield PD and currently works day watch. I figured a Sunday morning would be a good time to schedule Butch's visit as , usually, calls-for-service run a little slower because most mopes are still in bed after a hard Saturday night doing whatever it is they do.
Butchie got to meet Korey's partner, Denise, a lively Belgian malinois who he said loves kids. I thoroughly enjoyed watching my wide-eyed grandson slowly shed his shyness and interact with Korey as he was shown how all the bells and whistles work inside a police car.
Yep, even the siren.
I documented the visit by taking photos and video of the occasion, Butch smiling the entire time. Then we ventured up to the radio room, or dispatch center, or whatever they call it now, and my long-time friend LaWanda met my little man. Butch ended his visit there by hugging her; she's a real sweetheart and LaWanda is one of the best dispatchers I ever worked with. Ever.
As we drove home, Butch told me about his favorite part as he sat strapped into his child seat; I don't think he stopped talking about Denise and seeing her 'attack' the bite-sleeved arm of Officer Rich Clapp until we pulled into the garage at home.
I didn't hear everything he said, though; my head was somewhere else.
My mind had wandered back about twenty-five years or so, to a time when my sons Travis and Tyler were little guys. I'd occasionally take them with me if I had to run to the PD for something. They, too, had been wide-eyed back then, and it wasn't at all uncommon for some of the guys I worked with to rough-house with them or snatch them up in a bear-hug, the boys laughing as my brothers made them feel at ease in our rough domain. It seemed everyone on the department had kids back then, mostly all of us considering each other family to one degree or another, and our kids were part of that family.
I surely hope that atmosphere still exists, because much in my former world has changed.
