Black and Blue

I was 17 and I had a hot car. My Mustang Mach 1, with its 6 liter engine and dual pump Holley carburetor upgrade, would fly and it would really squeal the tires off the line. I raced my cousin's '70 Corvette once and was so proud that to come out ahead. I liked to show that off, at times, as you might guess. I was male, and I was 17, after all. Once, with my younger brother in the front seat, I did just that without noticing the policeman behind me at the light. Yes, I was pulled over and asked to get out of the car (yes, that's what the police did, back then). Everything was fine for a while. If I had been speeding, I could have said that my speedometer didn't show that fast, or that I didn't notice how fast I was going, but when you burn rubber in first and second, it's kind of hard to say that I didn't really do anything or that it was not on purpose. And, I had been taught to respect the police. But, this was my hometown's Chief Mc———— and he already had a reputation. He was angry. He kept telling me how delinquent I was but I let it go for a while. Oh, and I was 5' 8" and about 120 pounds if even that much. He was over 6 ft. and had a very hefty frame. But, he kept on and finally, when he started talking about my generation of kids, (hippies, draft dodgers, delinquents, who should all just be put in jail), something snapped. I thought I was pretty smart, but not at that moment. As he was writing my ticket and still talking about this younger generation who were good for nothing, suddenly my fist started moving of its own accord and before I knew it, the chief's nose was bleeding and I was in the back seat of a police car on my way to jail. What was I thinking! The size difference between him and me alone should have stopped me, and the fact that he had handcuffs and a gun hanging from his belt should have even more so. To skip over some of the details, the charges ended up getting dropped and it didn't go on my record because he didn't read my my rights and also because he drove off leaving a 12 year old (my brother) in the car alone (what was he thinking, also!?!) until a backup car came by. But, I haven't forgotten it. And, every time I hear news like that about Ferguson, Baton Rouge, Freddie Gray, etc. I can't help but think about it. If it happened today, and if I were black, I probably would be dead. Maybe my brother also. I was wrong. I know I was wrong. I knew it then. That's not how I had been taught. I was more afraid of what my father was going to do than the jail cell. I wasn't thinking. I just lost it. Whatever I may think of that police chief, he didn't shoot me. He didn't beat me up. I'm alive to tell you my tale. Not everyone is so lucky. Certainly, not every police shooting is unjustified. Certainly, not every video shows the whole story. We can't understand the threat police face unless we've faced it ourselves. But, we have to admit, there is something wrong. The police are getting a bad rap today and we need to fall in behind them and support them. But, we also have to admit that something is wrong. The way to improve the reputation of our brothers in blue is to deal with the few who go too far. I, at least, can't turn a blind eye. I am alive, and some who didn't do any more than what I did, are dead. I have a debt to pay. We can't just look away. The truth hurts, but truth also heals. We can't just come down with absolutes on either side. We have to deal with both problems. Black lives do matter, just as do white lives and any other color lives. So do those wearing blue, who do an incredibly hard job under incredible pressure every day. But, let's be open and follow truth wherever it takes us. Let's search for truth and let it set us free.