2nd cop should grow a set

There is man walking to a burrito joint on his lunch break. He is detained by police because he fits a description of a man who broke into an old woman's house. Except upon closer inspection he has a different hat and a different coat. He is black and a man.

The first cop is running the show and the second cop is kind of apologetic, yet does nothing to help the man being detained. Here is what Professor Locke posted:

"This is what I wore to work today.

On my way to get a burrito before work, I was detained by the police.

I noticed the police car in the public lot behind Centre Street. As I was walking away from my car, the cruiser followed me. I walked down Centre Street and was about to cross over to the burrito place and the officer got out of the car.

“Hey my man,” he said.

He unsnapped the holster of his gun.

I took my hands out of my pockets.

“Yes?” I said.

“Where you coming from?”

“Home.”

Where’s home?”

“Dedham.”

How’d you get here?”

“I drove.”

He was next to me now. Two other police cars pulled up. I was standing in from of the bank across the street from the burrito place. I was going to get lunch before I taught my 1:30 class. There were cops all around me.

I said nothing. I looked at the officer who addressed me. He was white, stocky, bearded.

“You weren’t over there, were you?” He pointed down Centre Street toward Hyde Square.

“No. I came from Dedham.”

“What’s your address?”

I told him.

“We had someone matching your description just try to break into a woman’s house.”

A second police officer stood next to me; white, tall, bearded. Two police cruisers passed and would continue to circle the block for the 35 minutes I was standing across the street from the burrito place.

“You fit the description,” the officer said. “Black male, knit hat, puffy coat. Do you have identification.”

“It’s in my wallet. May I reach into my pocket and get my wallet?”

“Yeah.”

I handed him my license. I told him it did not have my current address. He walked over to a police car. The other cop, taller, wearing sunglasses, told me that I fit the description of someone who broke into a woman’s house. Right down to the knit cap.

Barbara Sullivan made a knit cap for me. She knitted it in pinks and browns and blues and oranges and lime green. No one has a hat like this. It doesn’t fit any description that anyone would have. I looked at the second cop. I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking.

“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.

“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.

“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”

It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.

If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you.

Something weird happens when you are on the street being detained by the police. People look at you like you are a criminal. The police are detaining you so clearly you must have done something, otherwise they wouldn’t have you. No one made eye contact with me. I was hoping that someone I knew would walk down the street or come out of one of the shops or get off the 39 bus or come out of JP Licks and say to these cops, “That’s Steve Locke. What the FUCK are you detaining him for?”

The cops decided that they would bring the victim to come view me on the street. The asked me to wait. I said nothing. I stood still.

“Thanks for cooperating,” the second cop said. “This is probably nothing, but it’s our job and you do fit the description. 5′ 11″, black male. One-hundred-and-sixty pounds, but you’re a little more than that. Knit hat.”

A little more than 160. Thanks for that, I thought.

An older white woman walked behind me and up to the second cop. She turned and looked at me and then back at him. “You guys sure are busy today.”

I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.

I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave.

The first cop said, “Where do you teach?”

“Massachusetts College of Art and Design.” I tugged at the lanyard that had my ID.

“How long you been teaching there?”

“Thirteen years.”

We stood in silence for about 10 more minutes.

An unmarked police car pulled up. The first cop went over to talk to the driver. The driver kept looking at me as the cop spoke to him. I looked directly at the driver. He got out of the car.

“I’m Detective Cardoza. I appreciate your cooperation.”

I said nothing.

“I’m sure these officers told you what is going on?”

“They did.”

“Where are you coming from?”

“From my home in Dedham.”

“How did you get here?”

“I drove.”

“Where is your car?”

“It’s in the lot behind Bukhara.” I pointed up Centre Street.

“Okay,” the detective said. “We’re going to let you go. Do you have a car key you can show me?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my car key.”

“Okay.”

I showed him the key to my car.

The cops thanked me for my cooperation. I nodded and turned to go.

“Sorry for screwing up your lunch break,” the second cop said.

I walked back toward my car, away from the burrito place. I saw the woman in red.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “Thank you for staying.”

“Are you ok?” She said. Her small beautiful face was lined with concern.

“Not really. I’m really shook up. And I have to get to work.”

“I knew something was wrong. I was watching the whole thing. The way they are treating us now, you have to watch them. ”

“I’m so grateful you were there. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Don’t leave, sister.’ May I give you a hug?”

“Yes,” she said. She held me as I shook. “Are you sure you are ok?”

“No I’m not. I’m going to have a good cry in my car. I have to go teach.”

“You’re at MassArt. My friend is at MassArt.”

“What’s your name?” She told me. I realized we were Facebook friends. I told her this.

“I’ll check in with you on Facebook,” she said.

I put my head down and walked to my car.



My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.

I imagined sitting in the back of a police car while a white woman decides if I am a criminal or not. If I looked guilty being detained by the cops imagine how vile I become sitting in a cruiser? I knew I could not let that happen to me. I knew if that were to happen, I would be dead.

Nothing I am, nothing I do, nothing I have means anything because I fit the description.

I had to confess to my students that I was a bit out of it today and I asked them to bear with me. I had to teach.

After class I was supposed to go to the openings for First Friday. I went home."

~Steve Locke

This makes me mad as hell!! 

I am white as white can be, just for full disclosure here.I couldn't be more privileged ..came from the right side of the tracks. ..and Christian and not Catholic ( when I was young Catholicism was an -ism too), college educated, as was my dad who was born in 1916, a rare event for that time, and all my siblings. I am also straight, married with children and own my own home. So, my only identity of non power is being a woman. A women who grew up before woman were allowed to have power. Just for full disclosure.

i cannot believe the culture in our police departments has not changed over the last 75 years since the original civil rights movement.

Why did the 2nd cop not tell the first cop to knock it off? It took a detective showing up to diffuse the situation for the first cop to back off. So someone with power, more power than first cop, kept first cop from hurting Professor Locke physically or arresting him with no cause.

Bullying has been a wonderful campaign for our youth. Children across America are sticking up for peers who are not empowered and helping them when confronted with such behavior. We need a similar program for our Police Departments and it should be called, "Second cop should grow a set".

Losing one's job over such situations might be a deterant but could cause anamosity amongst police. The real fix is making it taboo within the cop culture to not stick up for citizens when your partner is a bully. Of course, first cop's partner is probably afraid of him too. But 2nd cop needs to grow a set.

People should picket their police stations and have signs that say "2nd cop should grow a set!! " It sounds ridiculously simple but its how our society works. ..tee shirts with " 2nd cop should grow a set" ...bumper stickers."2nd cop should grow a set" ...ad campaigns where someone is stopped and the second cop literally grows a set and you see his pants getting bigger the more he sticks up for the citizen. I am not trivializing this for you.  Ok that last ad campaign idea was slightly trivial but I am serious about the general idea.

It's how things change. Our world changes initially through catch phrases and peer pressure and small things people can do. A kind of intimidation, if you will. Then laws change and culture changes. We have dropped the ball since the marches of Martin Luther King Jr. and his dream. 

"I have a dream." Talk about a catch phrase and marketing campaign that made an impact that lasted lifetimes!

Well, I HAVE A DREAM, too. My dream is for 2nd cop to grow a set! 

Please join in my dream by sharing this idea and picketing and making and wearing t-shirts...make some noise!! We all need to grow a set!

(3) 2nd Cop Should Grow a Set

Go suck an egg dear

I find myself amazed at the progression women go through over the course of a lifetime. We start out as young women obsessed with finding a mate, a soul mate, someone to spend out lives with, make our lives with...and then when we are in our fifties we say, "What the hell was I thinkin'? "

Well, maybe not that bad, but the more women I talk to or hear talk who are in their fifties the more I hear them say, "When my husband dies I will never marry again."

The "who needs a man" attitude crosses, cultures, races, religions, stations in life; just about everything. Now I do know a few 50 something women who still spend their time trying to find a man to take care of them. They post silly pictures of themselves looking sexy. They get face lifts and tummy tucks all to try to get a man. But the majority of women say, who needs that!

Then there are the women just starting out. They are frustrated with finding a good man. They date and primp and online date trying to find someone to make a life with, to share their life with. Some do find that person. Some just find themselves.

Despite all of the fifty something gals not wanting another man in their lives, they are perfectly happy with the life they made with the man they spent their lives with. When asked, they wouldn't change a thing. But living for a time where the only dishes they need to wash are their own, the only permission they need to get is given by them, the only decision they need to ponder is one they alone care to decide is a time they long for and never got as young women.

The new group of young women are waiting for the man search. They have time alone at the beginning of their lives, unlike our generation who were consider spinsters by 25, they take the time for careers and things they want to do. So maybe when they are 50 and life throws them a curve they will want a second chance with a man, who knows. But those of us who have had a man for the last 35 or 40 or more years and have created a wonderful, blessed life with them are looking for a different ending to our years here. We want to figure out who we are, alone. Not that we want to be alone. We just want to figure things out on our own without someone else's opinion influencing us, regardless of the intent, or input, however well intentioned.

If we want to jump in the car and go fishing, great. If we want to spend time shopping after work, who cares. If we want to turn to someone and laugh at a joke on a show....oh yea, no one will be there. But if we want to go out to dinner we can, but we won't have anyone to have a conversation with.

I guess there are pros and cons to living with someone and living without someone.I guess it is a blessing if you get that choice in your lifetime. The grass is sometimes greener on the other side, sometimes it's a swamp...looks nice and green from far away but you sink up to your thighs once you step in it.

Life is a series of lessons about give and take. And while I will not want another mate after my current one because we had a great life and that is enough for me...I do understand the need for finding yourself. I also understand the need for sharing yourself. So, where ever you are in your journey just know that you are still whoever you are whether you have a spouse or don't. Only you can define happiness. Only you can give away the power to make you upset or happy. So, define what you are looking for. Give yourself space.

Space to grow, whether you are young or old. Space to find out who you are, whether young or old. And most importantly space to be happy and flexible with what life throws your way. You never know what's around the next corner of your life. Be happy with what you have. But remember you come into this world alone and go out alone. The people we choose to put into our lives are there for a reason...remember that reason and your old man may not look so bad and that empty chair may not look so bad either.

As long as you're happy, someone sitting next to you or not is a moot point. It's all about your attitude and being content with your choices. So, old or young, man or no man, that should be our goal, ladies, to be content with ourselves so life can be whatever YOU make it. Then if a man comes along to share things with you ...great! If not, that's great too!! But the life belongs to you and you alone. Sharing it is an option. So, stop at the store if you want older ladies...if he crabs tell him to suck an egg. If you are young and looking for someone please know your life is yours and you can share it with whomever you please. It doesn't have to be a spouse or it can be a spouse...

But please remember this...if you find a spouse,  they may do something in your future that drives you nuts and may cause you to go crazy. If they do... just remember this wisdom from some old broads you don't even know...  Say, " If you don't like it you can go suck an egg dear!" Kiss him on the forehead, remembering why you love him and go upstairs and watch Real Housewives of the Future. It works every time.

The most searched topic in 2016..how do I reduce stress

People ask me how I stay so calm and that they have never seen me angry. Well,  anger is such a wasted emotion I have spent years trying to avoid it. 
Believe me I get angry,  ask my family.  But all it does is make me feel badly.  So, i meditate, I walk away, i put my head down and keep my mouth shut. No ego.

Kids should be seen and heard

I vow to spend the year disputing how great it used to be, to dispute how people were such better parents back in the day because they made their children fear them and excluded them from the family by putting them at children's tables and sending   them to play outside until the street lights came home.  We were seen and not heard.  Which is not a good thing. It is important for children to feel empowered and heard by their parents. I am tired of this idealized version of the old days when children respected adults...we did not respect them, we feared them. Women were role models for slavery.  Children were abused and had no one and no where to turn.  The only people with a voice back then were white male Christians who had a good job. 
So,  the old days are just that old!  There is a reason that people who were raised back then did NOT raise their children that way. 
The good NEW days are what we should be focused on.  If your children are disrespectful it is probably because you do not respect them, you probably do not model respect of others to them and YOU, their parent, need to research ways to change that. 
If you are looking for the good old days there was no such thing.
It's a myth perpetrated by people who don't want to change for the better.
So start sharing positive parenting tips that support creative,  politically aware , vocal,  respectful children. 
Change is good and for a reason. Embrace it.
These are the good new days.

GOD AND MY TOYOTA TUNDRA SAVED US

This guy survived a tornado in Texas and says, "God and my Toyota Tundra saved us. "

What a nice guy,  since TOYOTA has had so many recalls and  bad press, to give them their next ad campaign. 

Drive a Toyota, God does!!

This guy is very brave as well.

I lived in Texas and have relatives who live there, to admit that you drive a non-American made vehicle is practically suicide! So for him to give credit to a Toyota for saving his ass from a TORNADO, MY GOD,  this man is brave!!

He blamed being stuck in the tornado on the local radio station for warning people too much about tornados and said the warnings should have said that there was a tornado out side of Bass Pro Shop, where he was.  Had they done that he would have stayed in the store.

Well,  sir,  you should sue!! Those warnings were the reason your beloved Toyota Tundra, that God sent to save you,  is in the junk yard. ..call the lawyer today! 

And God bless TOYOTA

The Christmas Story : how one lives seals one's fate.

It's spring in the Middle East. The shepherds are watching their flocks in the hills near Nazareth. It's mating season and one of the few times the sheep, and the men, are free.

In town a newly engaged women of 15 lies silently as a Roman soldier rapes her.  She tells no one.

Months later she cries. The moon has risen and set twice and her time has not come.  She must tell her betrothed.  She must tell Joseph. She prays to the universe to give her the right words for she has grown to love this man. Her parents have chosen well for her.

She tries to sleep, restless in the heat and heavy with the burden that she carries a child that may cause her to be stoned to death or worse...shunned by her family and community. What will she do if Joseph cannot find enough love in his heart to let her stay? Without a man to protect her and provide for her will she turn to prostitution?  How will she provide for herself?  What about the child within her? Will she be able to love this child; the product, not of love, but of violence, hatred and pain. Her questions without answers lull her into a fitfull sleep.

The day has come.  She asks her mother if she may go to Joseph. "It is the middle of the day, child, there are chores."

She insists and just leaves,  her mother calling after her, "The work will be waiting when you return. "

As she walks the street to his carpentry shop her mind is spinning,  what will he do,  will he ask that she be stoned, he has every right by law, will he hold her because of their love, will he...a quiet wind blows across the road.  She looks to the sky and clouds ripple like a river.  There is little sound and she suddenly feels a peace.  She suddenly knows that no matter what ...it will be ok. 

She turns the corner to see Joseph; good, gentle, loving Joseph. She pauses for a moment and says,  "Thank you, " then rushes into his arms,  the whole terrible story flowing from her mouth like vomit.

Tears stream down both of their faces as Joseph takes her chin in his hand,  turning her face to his and says,  "Mary, I have always loved you.  I will always love you. I will love this baby as I love you, for circumstance does not seal one's fate,  how we choose to live is what seals one's fate. I choose you. I choose him."

Touching her belly ever so gently he kisses her tears away.

The baby, they named Jesus, and they raised him with such love that as a man he became a beacon of hope and wisdom and peace for centuries to come and centuries more.

The power of love has never been as strong as the night when he was born.  It was as if the whole world knew something had changed.  We,  the human race,  would never be the same.

So we celebrate Mary and Joseph's love for each other and their child at Christmastime, a historic time for reflection and prayer.

Their wisdom to believe that circumstance does not seal one's fate...how one lives seals one's fate has given hope to millions through the words and actions of their beloved son, Jesus.

For this, we the world,  shall be forever grateful.

Amen

Every time you see a manger think of this powerful couple and their brave choices.

God is just a word

God saved me many times.
God also let me drown many times.
I was "all in" for most of my life. If something great happened it was all God. If something bad happened it was all me. But after a while I started to think about it. How come?
As a rational adult I had to look at God and decide...am I in or am I out?

I am all about holding beings accountable, especially myself, and if God's love for me got me through alcoholic parents and cancer then one has to ask if God's hatred for me was responsible for alcoholic patents and cancer. I mean,  that IS how things work. You don't get to just take credit for all the good and blame the bad on someone else...or do you?

Definition of God?  God is good.
And the Devil, what about him? Devil is bad.

I have to say I never believed in the Devil or Hell thanks to my mom. She told me God would never let that happen and she didn't care what it said in the Bible! She always said, "There is good in this world, Tina. But you have to look for it."

This coming from a women raised in the depression, by an alcoholic dad and a sickly mother whom my mom had to take care of until she died when my mom was in her 20s. She came home from her high school graduation, that no one attended by the way, to an ambulance in their driveway. She dropped her diploma and jumped in. She told me that was one of the best days of her life. Go figure.

But the no devil or hell comment always stuck, a seed of doubt. That seed is what has led me to my faith and the definition of that faith today. And it only took 50 years.

That definition is I have faith in myself.
God is just a word.
A word with a definition, like all words.

I let many things define me in my life.  I defined myself as a Christian who was saved from  being a victim and from all of the definitions society had placed on me. Then I met my soulmate and became a wife and soon after a mother and acted according to those definitions. Besides knowing I was a writer my whole life but not acting on it because that was not included in the other definitions of who I was supposed to be by definition, I was constantly defining myself by an action. I became a wife so I was a wife. I became a mother so I was a mother. I became a Christian so I was a Christian. I became a victim so I was a victim.

I became a cancer survivor so I was a cancer survivor...no. I became a cancer survivor because a brilliant doctor saved my sorry ass. Dr. Frank Snyder saved me so was I now Dr. Frank Snyder?

I began to research, rethink, reevaluate, restructure, reDEFINE.

When you get to a place in your life when a moment in time no longer defines you, you can move on.

So, I don't believe in God, the white bearded man, anymore. I believe in myself and my ability to make good decisions, to be kind, to love everyone, to listen for the whispers in the universe that try to guide me through this life. I believe I will make mistakes and should hold myself accountable and make amends for them when I need to. I believe that not everyone is in the same place as I am and I need to honor that. I need to not be prejudice about Christianity by lumping all Christians into the same definition because definitions should be fluid and all human beings should be accepting of one another in their journey here.

God is just a word and like mom or grandma or Christian it should not define a person or entity.

God has lasted so long in our culture, whether it be the Christian deity or mother earth or "The Force" , because as fluid as the definition is NOT to some people, it is something we all need in our life. A thing to hold onto that rests in our souls. God is just a word so don't be afraid to use that word to define the part of you that holds you together in times of sorrow, or gives you strength in challenging times or just gives you peace on a warm summer night as you look at the sky. The definition is yours, it is fluid, it will change over time as you grow. The word God for you will ebb and flow like the sea but if you are mindful the word God and your definition of that word should bring you peace.