Tag: Christmas

Categories
Writer's Notes

December is About Giving

By Thonie Hevron

December is about gifts. Christmas, Hanukah, Three Kings—however you celebrate this season, it’s often done with gifts. My original idea was to have authors write about their gifts, whether it’s a talent they were born with, a life change because they received a gift, a skill they were able to learn, gifts are meant to be given. Authors often write about their gifts.

Decades ago my sister-in-law gave me a horse. Talk about a life changing event!When hubby and I decided to move to a larger home, it had to include enough land to support a horse. Years later, when we moved to the Eastern Sierras, my new horse had enough energy that he wore me out. I had to decide whether to sell him or quit smoking. No brainer. I quit smoking (after 26years-man, I loved that horse!).

All of my books have some mention of a horse. I can’t help it. I love horses and passed that trait on to my protagonist. Gardeners talk about azaleas, chefs write mysteries about quiches, and so on. I mention horses.

But now, I have another gift to tell you about: several yearsago, my husband offered to treat my writing career as a job. I’d work on my stories and he’d take over running the house, laundry and cooking. What a deal! I didn’t pass it up. I wrote my three books over those years. Then, in July of 2017, he fell ill. Without getting into details, roles changed. I became the caregiver. He was sick enough that he couldn’t be left alone. The doctors sent him home from the hospital to either get better or…

Fast forward to today. He’s not fully recovered but he is significantly healthier. I know he feels better because he kicked me out of the kitchen. He’s been doing laundry for a month or so and I now can leave him without overly worrying.

So, his recovery is my gift. Maybe re-gift is more accurate as he’s given it before. But the bottom line is that I’ve been given a second chance. I have a fourth novel to finish and now he is helping me do it.

But there’s a catch. During all those months when I couldn’t work on my novel, I spent time on my blog. I posted police stories from several retired and active duty cops every Sunday. On Fridays, I posted guests expounded on pre-set themes. My post was always the first Friday of the month, theirs followed. Anyway, this has become so labor-intensive that I can’t get back to my novel. So, I’ve decided that this incarnation of “Writer’s Notes” must retire in its current format. I’ll still happily accept guest posts but won’t be assigning themes and won’t be tied to two posts a week. The cop stories will continue as it is my mission: to show the public but especially writers that these are living, breathing people behind the badges. With luck, maybe they will even inspire a story in you.

My gift to you is a place where you can read about the heroes who keep us safe. Your gift to me has been your readership. It is with sincere gratitude I thank all my guest authors from the past eighteen months. It’s been great fun meeting you, making new friends, but now it’s time to knuckle down and finish that novel. I’m fortunate to have a publisher who has committed to publish it—and re-issue all my previous novels.

Time for Thonie to get to work.

By Force or Fear, Intent to Hold, and With Malice Aforethought
Categories
Roll Call

A Christmas Story from Mikey

 

A CHRISTMAS STORY
Written December 24th, 2007

cop christmas treeFor the last ten years, I have worked Christmas Eve for any young sergeant who should be home with his wife and babies. They don’t know until December 23rd, and then I tell the chosen one, “I got it.” Tonight, is the last one for me. I will be 6L20 watch 3. Start of watch is 1815 until 0700 Christmas Day. I got a true story to tell you about Christmas Eve 1992. Its’ a really good one.

I was set to work with another sergeant and a lieutenant at Rampart Division. The other sergeant was Brenda Gordon who had an umpteenth number of family in from out of town and pleaded and begged as she might, she did not get the night off. The LT., Mike Mines and I are car pooling so enroute to the station I convince him that I can handle the street supervision myself and Brenda should stay home. He agrees and when we get to the station, we call Brenda. She cries like a baby. When her family asked why she was crying, she told them. Her family went nuts; made Mike and me feel good.

About 2030 (8:30 PM), Mike calls me into the station and tells me that there are several gifts still under the Christmas tree in the station lobby and I should find some kids to give them to. I get the gifts out and see that there are 4, two marked “girl” and two marked “boy.” Now before I get to do my Santa thing, I want to smoke a Christmas cigar I’d been saving.

woman pushing carHere is where it gets good, but at the time I did not know it was good. There are several hills in Rampart that allow some cool views of downtown L.A., so I go looking for one to enjoy the view and have that smoke. I found myself going up a side street off Temple Street that I’d never been on before and could see that I was going to have a really neat view of downtown. The street is steep, so I know I will get a great view. About three quarters of the way up I see this small-framed woman pushing a shopping cart up the hill. Well heck, I am there to “Protect and Serve,” so I stop the cruiser and get out to help. The look on her face told me I was the last thing she expected.

We get to the top of the hill and for the first time I see two little girls, maybe 4 and 5 years old tagging along behind her. Their little noses are running and their hair is in disarray and they are wearing shawls instead of sweaters. It was a cold night.

Boom, the light comes on and I say, “Wait here.” This is all spoken in Spanish from here on and lucky for me I know just enough to embarrass myself. I get the two “girl” packages from my car and start walking toward the three waiting up the hill. As I get to the girls I say, “Merry Christmas” and hand the gifts to them. They are holding on to each other and look at mom. Mom has her hands over her mouth and she is trembling. She nods and gestures to them to take the gifts. They do, and I turn and ask if she has any more babies and she says, “two boys.” Heck, I got some for them too and go back to the car. When I get back to mom, she is crying softly, and the girls are smiling just a big as they can and just cradling those gifts. I place the boys’ gifts in her basket, which I see now contains clothes, either for washing or ironing.

When I turn to say goodbye, mom grabs my left hand and starts kissing it! She is still crying and starts with in Spanish, “Christ, oh thank you. Christ, oh thank you. Father, thank you. Thank you, Christ. Bless you sir. Bless you, sir. Father, oh Father, thank you.”

Guess what, this cold, tired middle-aged sergeant brought their only Christmas to these folks. Actually, I didn’t. Go figure, four gifts, the timing, the unfamiliar street, two girls, two boys. I got in my car and started driving off, when I looked in my review mirror, mom was crossing herself and did so until I couldn’t see her any more. Couldn’t tell that story without crying for many years. Wonder if the little girls remember that Christmas Eve when a sinner (I’m only human) brought them Christmas in the back of a Black and White. The whole thing did not hit me until hours later. Tonight, I just might take my cruiser to Rampart and finally have that cigar that I missed on that hill Christmas Eve, 1992.

Merry Christmaschristmas1

Mikey, 6L20

 

Categories
Writer's Notes

Guest post: John Wills on HEALER’s debut

Today’s post is by John Wills, author of Healer. His law enforcement creds are included below. I like furthering LE authors when I can. I know you’ll enjoy reading about John’s newest book. –Thonie

John Wills
John Wills

Hi Thonie. Thank you for allowing me to visit with you and your readers. I have exciting news!—my latest novel, HEALER, is now available on Amazon, or at my publisher’s website: Oak Tree Press. HEALER is the heartwarming story about 16-year-old Billy Anderson. Billy has experienced more than his share of tragedy in his young life. Made fun of in school because of a birth defect, he first endures the loss of his mother, and then his father dies in the war.

One day, as Billy attends Mass, his life takes a dramatic turn. An elderly woman dies in his arms. But before she takes her last breath she tells him, “Receive the gift of healing.” Those words instantly change his life. However, Billy has no idea whether his supernatural ability will be a blessing or a curse.

Also part of Billy’s journey is Police Officer Sheila Chambers, who comes into Billy’s life after answering a call about a teen out past curfew. Sheila instantly senses Billy is troubled, and without giving away the story line, she ensures Billy gets the help he needs. The officer has been involved with foster parenting and her compassion for the orphaned teen is a major part of Healer.

HEALER OTP coverBilly’s story will both surprise and comfort readers. He’s a remarkable young man whose parents imbued in him old fashioned values, morals, and ethics. His honesty and compassion will refresh and inspire. HEALER is a story the entire family will enjoy—from young adults to senior citizens. It’s a journey of faith and courage that will both leave you in tears and soothe your soul.

I was inspired to write this story after reading stories in the Bible about the Apostles and other saints who had the ability to heal those who were sick or lame. I wondered how such a gift might be looked upon in the present day. But as with much of my writing, I didn’t shy away from the reality of human nature. I include hardships like crime, addiction, homelessness, etc. Real life is gritty. To ignore that fact would certainly detract from my stories.

My previous novel, The Year Without Christmas, is an award-winner that chronicles how homeless people survive on the street. It’s a gut-wrenching story about a small town family whose peace is shattered by a tragic accident. The husband, a police officer, disappears as his grandson faces a life-threatening disease. It’s a tale about loss, faith, and the power of love.

About me: I served 2 years in the Army, and then 12 years as a Chicago cop. I left the police department to join the FBI and retired after 21 years. I’ve written 10 books and published more than 150 articles on police training. I also write short stories and poetry. I live in Fredericksburg, Virginia with my wife Christine. We’ve been married 44 years and have 3 children and 4 grandchildren.

Links:

My website: www.johnmwills.com

My blog: www.jwillsbooks.com

Amazon Healer link: HEALER

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/johnmwills

Twitter: https://twitter.com/johnmwills

 

Categories
More Street Stories

Nights, weekends, holidays and birthdays

Nights, weekends, holidays and birthdays

As I settle back into my recliner after a superlative Easter Brunch at my sister’s sister-in-law’s (talk about extended family!), I reflect on the holidays that I’ve missed.  Technically, you couldn’t really say I missed them as I was present but often not at the place of the celebration.  In the years I spent on the job, missing a holiday celebration was part of the deal. I signed up knowing that I’d miss Christmas morning with the kids opening their gifts, Thanksgiving afternoon with Mom and Dad, birthdays and anniversaries. Those days were often spent driving around alone trying to keep busy but not get into trouble or sitting in a dimly lit room staring at flickering monitors.

Santa surprises a patrolman
Santa surprises a patrolman

It’s kind of funny, going to work on Christmas morning when everyone you know is still in sugar-plum fairy land isn’t as doleful as it sounds. I always (even in the depths of my comatose commute) felt a little special to be awake when everyone else was asleep. I knew that when I got to work, that I would be there. I might really be able to help someone, maybe even save a life.  But, I knew I would miss holidays with family and friends when I hired on so I didn’t spend time feeling sorry for myself. I adjusted my thinking to alternatives and never looked back. Sure, I had to explain my goofy shifts to my mother and non-law enforcement friends. But over the years, they all grew accustomed to my absence or shortened visits (“Sorry Mom, gotta go to work.”).

When I got married, it was to a man who had children. Holidays and birthdays were sometimes celebrated a day before the actual event, or maybe a day after—it depended on my husband’s schedule. Because he was a fire fighter, he worked 24 hour shifts, sometimes 72 hour shifts.  One day, I consoled my son who was upset that we wouldn’t be together for Easter: I reminded him that he’d be at his mother’s house and get goodies then come home later that night and have goodies at our house. Twice as many goodies! This was a lesson that the kids learned well. Our time together became more special because we had to schedule it—with others in the family (brother-in-law and sister) who also worked in emergency services, it was usually a challenge.

Christmas Eve swing shift and grave yard were always kind of “special”. In years past, someone from county dispatch sent out periodic “Santa sightings” over the police telecommunications system. These days, this is strictly prohibited but for those of us on duty then, it provided entertainment between family fights and drunks.  In dispatch and on the street, it was normal to be sorry to miss your family but few if any officers or dispatchers allowed themselves to give in to melancholy. I’ve been ordered in on Christmas. I wasn’t happy but I worked. Crime, fires and medical emergencies don’t wait for 9 to 5 hours, so neither can the job. One Christmas, I worked my scheduled day shift-7am to 5pm. The second dispatch position was off on vacation and as no one had signed up to work the overtime, five dispatchers were ordered in to each work a 2 hour shift. That is an extreme, to be sure. Usually, a generous soul—one with grown or no kids—would take the time. But not always. Sometimes I had to dump the kids at a sitter and work. It’s just the way it is. But don’t feel sorry for me. I am a professional and get paid accordingly. If I worked a holiday, I was compensated with varying degrees of salary or commensurate time off.

911 Call Center
911 Call Center

After all, all your co-workers were in the same situation.  The bottom line was that everyone, no matter what their situation, was prepared to get the job done—paycheck aside, even then it was sometimes a sacrifice. But we do it every day—nights, weekends, holidays and birthdays.

A salute to all those working this Easter!