Thank You For Your Service

File under: Learning How to Live

Due to the fact I live in the middle of nowhere, no internet service providers offer a reliable broadband service where I live. Therefore, you will often find me sitting in my car in a random parking lot, catching up on social media, whenever I travel into the city. Yesterday evening, I was sitting in the CVS Pharmacy parking lot, as I am wont to do. It was after dark, approaching closing time for most stores in the plaza. I was sitting some distance away from the store away from all the other cars. Having just finished an emotionally difficult telephone call, I began to draft an even more emotionally difficult text message. Peripherally, I notice a car pass in front of me turn and travel on around the lot. Being distracted, as I was, I did not notice this vehicle had circled back and pulled up on my rear.  Startled, I get a knock on the window and look up to find a county sheriff standing outside my door.

My immediate reaction was anger. All I could wonder is what yokel called the cops on me for sitting here, minding my business--not bothering anyone. I go on the defensive and a flood of legal knowledge and situational drills rush to the forefront of my brain. What seems to be the problem officer? Was there a complaint? Is there a reason you approached my vehicle? Do you have some reason to believe some sort of crime is occurring? Has the owner asked that I leave the premises?

Much to my consternation, the officer was not being confrontational, aggressive, authoritarian, demeaning or disrespectful in any way. This threw a wet blanket on my fiery libertarian zeal. It is much less vindicating to rage against the machine when the machine is not being a tool. I realized…this guy is just doing his job…we both just want to get through this and go home. I reminded myself that I do not have the right NOT to identify myself when operating a motor vehicle.  Being a jerk can only make things worse, so just shut up and go along with it.

With my hands on the steering wheel of the car, I informed the officer that I have no weapons in the cabin of the vehicle, but there is ammunition in the glove compartment and an unloaded firearm in the trunk. I ask if it is all right to turn the dome light on so that he can see into the vehicle. When he says it is ok, I do so…slowly. Now that he can see into the vehicle, I ask if it is ok that I retrieve my wallet from my left side front pocket. When he says it is ok, I do so…slowly.  While he is communicating with dispatch, I keep my hands on the steering wheel. He encourages me to “relax,” and states that it will not take long. My record is spotless, so I am not worried I will not be driving home soon. However, as I am sitting there, something I did not expect occurred: he struck up a conversation.

He remarks that I am very familiar with the regulations for carrying firearms and asks why I do not apply for a permit so that I can carry mine in the car with me. I remark that this situation would be much tenser if there was a firearm in here with me (the real reason is I am a notorious procrastinator). He quips, if I need it in an emergency I cannot ask the attacker to “hold on” while I retrieve it from the trunk and load it. We both laugh at that. We talk about our common interest, firearms, for a while: favorite carry options, EDC, favorite caliber, ranges to go to… Turns out we both favor the same round, for the same reason (although he is a Glock fanatic, sigh). He talked about the time while on vacation an officer stopped him after he fell asleep in his civilian vehicle in a hotel parking lot. We talked…lightly…about the subject of our tension: bad cops and bad interactions between them and the public. He professed that bad cops make his job harder and those like him want them gone. He admitted in a number of high profile cases that many of the shooters “got away with murder.” He states that is a pleasure to be able to talk with a member of the public about common interests and concerns, without animosity or distrust. I agreed and explained to him that my grandfather, a retired deputy sheriff, and father were both involved in law enforcement at one time, so I understood “both sides” of the issue.

He concluded the stop by shaking my hand and thanking me for the service of my father and grandfather. This heart-felt gesture touched me in a very profound way. For the first time in a long time, I felt a feeling of deep pride and connectedness to my father and grandfather. I let go of what was dogging me, and a sense of the peace and calm came over me. I finished writing the missive I was having difficulty writing and went home feeling unexpectedly inspired.

What I said about my father and grandfather was only mostly true and only in an esoteric sense. It was an olive branch—a peace offering—to build trust and extend empathy. The truth is I never knew my grandfather, as him and the family had estranged since before I was born. Further, I did not know much about his or my father’s experiences in law enforcement.  My father was not fond of talking talk about his former life, or overmuch about his father in more than a general way. Many of the stories from that time in his life seemed to take my father to a bad place; so, as I became wiser, I stopped asking about them.  I gathered that, ultimately, it was that life—law enforcement—that wedged into the cracks of my father and grandfather’s relationship.

I have only ever seen my grandfather in pictures. He was an imposing man with a genial smile, the spitting image of my father, save my grandfather’s rusty hair had not darkened with age the way my father’s hair had. I knew he did dote on his grandchildren. Much of what I knew about him when I was a child I learned from my eldest siblings and cousins; at one time, he was a constant fixture in their lives. I never heard my grandmother so much as speak his name in all the years she lived.

I did speak to him once, over the telephone. I was maybe eight or nine years old at the time. All these years later, I do not remember the sound of his voice, but I remember every word he spoke and how I felt, finally, to talk to my grandfather.  He introduced himself, “Grandpa Bane,” and asked me who I was. We spoke very briefly. He told me that he wanted to see me, gave me his number and told me to call him. Few times can I remember being as happy as I was that day. As I often did, I waited impatiently and excitedly for my father to get home from work; I liked to be the first person to greet him when he came through the door.  I wanted to tell him my grandfather wanted to see ME. Over the turbulent years, my father and I have had some tense, heated and emotional conversations. None, however, was as heart-rending and agonizing, for both of us, as when he had to tell me I would not be seeing my grandfather after all. I never did.  He passed away a short while later.

I thought about my grandfather for the first time in a long time on the drive home—whimsical things, not sad things.  Like, did he have a disarming demeanor and a strong handshake like the deputy? What would be his choice in firearm or caliber today? What would an old-timer like him think of mine? What would he have to say about the state of law enforcement today? Would he have wanted me to continue in my pursuit of a career in criminal justice? I thought about all the conversations we never had and, for the first time, thinking of them did not make me angry or bitter—it made me smile.

Now that I have forced upon you a boring story, a sad story and a sob story, what is your reward for all that? What is the lesson in all of this? One thing about law enforcement that my father did share with me was the importance of the beat cop. Officers in the community patrolling the streets, interacting with business owners and homeowners, being a visible deterrent to criminals are vital to strong, safe communities. A couple years ago in my hometown, my cousin—a bailiff himself—was waiting in the parent line to pick up his daughter from elementary school when a criminal shot him in the back during an attempted robbery. In the world we live, a criminal will shoot a father in front of his wife at his daughter’s elementary school over a cellular phone.  If not for the efforts of dedicated law enforcement officers—officers like the deputy, my father and my grandfather—I would not have felt comfortable sitting in my car, in that neighborhood without my firearm within reach. Police are not the enemy; evil people and the hatred in all of us is. Catharsis is hard to come by in the world in which we live, where not much ever makes sense and true closure is rare. I narrowly almost prevented myself from making peace with a demon that has plagued me all my life. Closed minds and closed hearts stubbornly clinging to principle and jaded perceptions prevent us as a society from embracing one another, healing our wounds and moving beyond the hurts of the past. If humankind is ever to reach its moment of catharsis, it has to click in each of us that we are all just people, people doing our jobs—if imperfectly—and we all want to get through this life to find our way home.

Where are the Dads? The Sequel

File Under: It is in Our Hands

For those who missed part one of this discussion, you can find it here. The discussion surrounds the above-linked article and the question of why fathers are missing in today’s families.

That discussion on why fathers are or are not present continues. A respondent posited that Progressives believe children are a punishment that parents can choose to bear or not to bear. Further, this respondent wonders why a man would choose to be a father when the system can be father, mentor, friend, educator, and financier. What non-faith-based reason would anyone have to make such an absurd choice? Is abandonment not the male choice as abortion is the (so-called) female choice? What “functional reason” does a man have?

So we are still stumping for the non-Progressives and non-Secularists. All right. Well, unless someone snuck into my bedroom and Progressivized me while I was sleeping, because I am not to my knowledge a Progressive, I cannot speak to why Progressives feel the way they do about children other than to say maybe it is because their fathers abandoned them, they were not breastfed, or they were not hugged and told they were special and loved when they were children. I can say that Progressives, Right-to-Lifers, Liberals, Christian Conservatives, farmers, Purple-People-Eaters, and anyone-else-who-wants-to-pipe-in-on-the-subject be damned. People are the resource of a nation on a small scale and the human race on a large scale; in turn children are naturally wards of a state (entrusted to the care of parents) because beyond the family, beyond the community it is the government who (is supposed to) protect the people (in turn protecting the species). For those who want to want to postulate special circumstances and drawl on asking “what would you want to happen in X situation,” please refrain.

Animals cannot convene parliament but they do protect and rear their children. How much more so can humans? I am willing to wager that whether or not there is someone else, who could guide this child from infancy to adulthood, ever crosses the mind of men who find out the person they are sleeping with is pregnant, at least not in those terms at that moment of revelation. Reason, not religion, tells you that the rejection of a father is a powerful influence on the choices children ultimately make. I mean no historical people have ever grown up to be tyrannical stooges for racist, genocidal agendas because their fathers were hard on them. On the other hand, have they? Reason, not religion, makes one think ‘wow, it was hard on mom and I growing up, maybe I should stick this thing out.’ Reason, not religion, dictates there is an intelligent and reasonable way to use any machine or process; the reproductive process is no different. If you sign the check, you accept responsibility when the bank calls you on it. Reason, not religion, dictates you protect and nurture your legacy. Functional reason? Ask the fathers of LeBron James, Michael Jordan, Barack Obama, or Tiger Woods about functional reasons. It is about survival – of the individual, of the nation, and of the species. Just like the sheep who line up for slaughter in the Progressive machine, some men do not have survival instincts.

Why are the only two alternatives ever offered in today’s political climate either be the sheep of the Progressive Shepherds or the pawns of the *Insert Non-Progressive Group* Masterminds? Either the way you choose your plight is sacrifice and slaughter. Is it not high time we stop shaking sticks at the boogeyman in our collective closet? Why not assist the marginal adherents to a broken system who believe the system is repairable and who participate in the only meaningful way they can envision. Why demonize these people? Is Non-progressivism that important, that much better?

The welfare state is not new; the concept is as old as humankind is. However, our specific welfare system is new and was not a product of a perfect, well-balance society. It is here because society needs it. Fathers abandoning families, not fathers wanting a counterpart to abortion, is (one textbook) reason for welfare. I do not pretend that the government does not practice and thrive on social engineering. After all it is crucial to the survival of the government that it people need them. Simultaneously, I do not absolve anyone of personal choice and responsibility. When evil Progressives are silenced and no longer fashionable and whatever preferable non-Progressive group is in power they will continue the legacy of manipulation and control. What tool will they use? False freedom? Pseudo-autonomy? Will they prove themselves hypocrites and use some bastardized welfare state? I do not know. What I do know is that the puppeteers of this system, whomever they are, will need more than state-sponsored birth control, more than STDs, more than illicit drugs, more than the welfare state, more than selective law enforcement, more than unconstitutional legislation, more than economic disparity, more than invasion of privacy, more than partisan politics, and more than sectarian strife to suppress, control, or eradicate (when all else fails) me and those I intend to influence.

Responsibility is not a product of faith; it is a consequence of being. Right and wrong existed long before man invented religion. It would seem religion and faith is high-level thought processes while logic and survival are base level processes. If you have not made the correct decision by the time you reach the high thought part of your brain, then you are not likely to – at least not for the right reasons. The time and distance between reasoning and faith may be small scientifically speaking, but spiritually there is a vast chasm between the two. What would happen to lions if they stopped to think about whether it is morally acceptable to kill gazelles? What would happen to the victims of suicide bombers if the bombers had said ‘this is an illogical course of action?’ Some people unfortunately need logical, reasonable behavior codified and explained in complex metaphors, parables, and fables that in turn men and women of dubious motivation or personal character who have no real clue about what is going on in the universe – spiritually or physically – must decipher. Some people simply would not be able to handle this current life, without some promise of a new, better life to come. Some people cannot contemplate the possibility they are alone in the universe. Those are dangerous scenarios, but such individuals pose no threat so long as they do not become fanatical.

You ask, “What am I saying about religion?” Am I lambasting established faiths in favor of shiny, new secular religion? Of am I advising we scrap the concept of faith in totality? For the answer tune in next week, same Bane-time, same Bane-channel.


John Lennon - Imagine
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Where are the Dads?

File under:           It is in Our Hands

This post and the link that inspires it, is a carryover from a Facebook discussion in which the original poster emphatically asks, “Where are the dads?” I responded that “fathers sadly are a fast shrinking minority,” to which he responded, “why so Ryan?” The Shortt answer: It is a Progressive plot to destabilize the family unit and create a more malleable society. The Long answer follows, please bear through my short (I swear) rant on criminal justice and society.

I do not know what manner of twisted things had to have happened to the 15 year-old to make her think what she was doing was 'OK.' In trying her as an adult, which she definitely deserves, I hope they do not merely bury her under the prison at the same time. She needs help and rehabilitation.

The 20 year-old on the other hand, his fate is sealed; let us hope he is as much a man about taking it as he thinks he is about dishing it out. Before I get up on my soapbox about the value of fathers, I must beat my "What in the world were all the rational adults doing?" drum. I mean, really. How many times leading up to the point that this 7 year-old was so horribly and irreversibly violated could someone have stepped in and said "no, this far and no farther?" Moreover, not just at the party either. Someone obviously had to report this, did that person figure something terrible had to happen before he or she spoke up. The entire community (and of course the "system") failed this child.

Fathers. I should back off my earlier comment somewhat. In all fairness to most men I know, the vast majority are making earnest attempts to be present in their lives of their children in a meaningful and positive way. That is regardless of status, class, relationship with the mothers, or the circumstances of the conception. I do notice a trend of males who grew up without a real, "good" father trying not to repeat the cycle with children they in turn create. However, society does not seem to be moving back towards a stronger family unit. The ratio of children to fathers still -feels- high. I think that condition exists for the same reasons it always has, many of which are the reasons why some fathers instead choose to be present.

No one teaches you to be a father (or a man for that matter). No one likes to fail, perform poorly, or struggle with something he or she does not know how to handle. I have heard people say that the first time they hold their child it is a scary moment. You realize that the person you created is now so dependent upon you and you hold (literally) a tiny, fragile life in your incapable, inept hands. What are the chances this 20 year-old's father had a college degree, and a job making mid-to-high 5 figures? Slim to nil. What is the probability that his grandfather skipped out on his father? High to certain. That is probably the most damaging 'lesson' about being a man taught over 2 generations: when you cannot handle it cut and run. Being poor and uneducated is no excuse, but it certainly does not aid the decision making process. Then you have the mother, who herself is scared and unlearned in the ways of motherhood. The child is bad enough; he or she cannot form the words to tell you how much you are unprepared for this task. But when you have a scared mother (read: loud, irate, and belligerent) who despite all her protestations of independence really just wants you to step up and be a man (in the traditional, antiquated sense), you don't hear "honey, we need to figure out what we are going to do;" you hear "My GOD!!! Why can't you just act like a man?!?!" As if she, being a woman, knows how a man is supposed to act. That sort of thing messes with a man (or a boy trying to be one). With no direction, no support, no plan, no finance, and "baby mama drama (possibly from multiple baby mamas)" lesser men and boys will take flight rather fight. Outside forces and theories of society manipulating aside, raising a child or children is a daunting responsibility.

Again for anyone preparing to mount their high horse and draw their sword of righteousness, I am not condoning or even defending males (because until you step up to the plate on your responsibilities you are not a man) who abandon their families. Beyond personal moral and logical reasons, many of the above reasons are why men choose to handle their responsibilities rather than run. My father often told me he swore to me when I was a very small child, too little to understand what he was saying, that he would never turn his back on my siblings and I as his father had done to him and his family. Despite everything the world threw at him and our family, or the decisions we made as individuals he never, ever once waivered on that promise – not for a millisecond. Do not let the horribleness of abandoning your family create an illusion in your mind that fulfilling such a promise is a simple task. It takes hard work, integrity, dedication, self-sacrifice, compassion, patience, humility, and no small amount of love. What most males do not realize (and no one tells them) is that what you lack in any of those areas you gain in droves along with knowledge, wisdom – and a beautiful legacy – when you step up and be a father. The road is hard, your life as it was is over, your family will drive you nuts, they will (make no mistake) tell you they hate you, and many times you will feel you are failing; but by being there you are winning. Fathers are the protectors of innocent 7 year-old girls. By you being there, we all are winning.

This post is dedicated to fathers everywhere, you are all our heroes.

Wherever you are dad, thank you and I love you.

UPDATE: The discussion continues in Where are the Dads? The Sequel