A vignette from regular “Ramblings” author Hal Collier.
This had me laughing out loud so I thought I’d share it with you all.
By Hal Collier
It’s a Saturday morning and I’m sitting in my den with the newspaper and a cup of coffee. I also have the television on so I don’t miss any breaking news. Channel 5 KTLA has a show they call Burrous Bites. Chris Burrous is a KTLA reporter and people e-mail him good places to eat in Southern California. Chris visits these places and samples the food. Most don’t interest me as they are in outlying counties or the type of food that I don’t care for.
On this Saturday I’m half-paying attention when Chris visits a donut store. Now, despite common perception that cops eat a lot of donuts, I don’t. I use to eat about two a year when I was working morning watch. You stop at Winchell’s at 4 AM for a cup of coffee. The baker has just set out a tray of fresh cooked donuts. OK, maybe I’ll have a hot cinnamon roll. Two hours later, you remember why you don’t eat donuts. The cinnamon roll sits in the bottom of your stomach, which is now making noises that will alert the enemy of your presence.
A belly bomb if I ever saw one!
Since I retired I haven’t eaten a donut in three years but that was about to change. My wife tells me that Chris Burrous is at the Donut Man http://www.thedonutmanca.com. in Glendora on Route 66. I set down the sports page and watch as they show donuts filled with fresh strawberries. (see attached photo) They also have peach filled donuts when in season. If you look at the web site they have all kinds of donuts and are open 24 hours a day.
I can barely find Glendora on a map but that’s also about to change. One fine Sunday morning, we finish our shopping at Wal-Mart in Duarte. If I’m going to watch sports for most of the day, I need to do something special for my bride. I can do the dishes, vacuum, or take my wife to The Donut Man. Bet you can guess where we went.
We pull up in front of the Donut Man and see that it’s a busy place but not a cop in sight. Must be a lot of spouses making up for past or future indiscretions Terri comes back with two large boxes. I suspect that we’re buying donuts for all of Eagle Rock. The second box contained fresh strawberries dipped in chocolate for the grandchildren.
Well, I ate mine with a fresh cup of coffee. I’m retired I deserve this. It was good, but I broke my three year ‘no donut’ record.
A few hours later Terri asks, “Was that an earthquake?
“No it was my stomach!”
Hal
P.S. Stop at the ATM before you go to the Donut Man–a strawberry filled donut is $4.00. When do peaches come in season?
This is a guest post from a friend of many years who wishes to remain anonymous. He was a city police officer in a San Francisco suburb from the mid-70’s until 2005. I’ve modified a few words but these are mostly his:
I think about this because my last night on the street was ten years ago tonight. The City of ******* offered a 401(a) plan, which was a huge income tax advantage, obtainable by retiring in January, not December. Hence working the night shift that ended at 0500 on 1/1/2005 was a major money night for me.
At about fifteen minutes before quitting time, we got a call of a gang member with a sawed-off shotgun in the courtyard of the Camelot Apartments. I still remember the thought, “Fifteen minutes from retirement and now this!!!!!” Coming from Beat One, I was the third to arrive. Fortunately, the crook took one look at us and set down the gun, which prevented things from getting really ugly, especially for him because the gun was not loaded and he had no ammunition in possession.
I measured the gun. It was 1/4” too long in barrel and in overall length to be an illegal weapon.
One of the other officers there told me they had the situation and I should head to the station and call it a career, which I did.
In the last Ramblings I discussed being G.P. General Public. That just means that I don’t have an automatic source of information from my former employer because I retired. I’m still a cop and will be until I die!
I spent thirty-five years developing that cop sixth sense. My training and experience made me a product of my environment. I still sit with my back to a wall facing the door at restaurants. I still open doors with my left hand, leaving my gun hand free, although I’ll admit that I don’t carry my gun everywhere anymore.
I go shopping with my wife and I see shoplifters. I have gotten away from seeing blatant traffic violations and screaming, “Where’s a cop when you need him?” I can drive past a donut shop and not want to stop for a cup of coffee; I still don’t eat donuts. I’ll admit that I drink Starbucks coffee now with the sissy sleeve so you don’t burn your hand, but when I order coffee it’s still only one word, COFFEE. No half this, half that and no squirts or splashes of anything else.
So, what does a retired cop do to pass the time, known as the “Golden Years?” It depends on the cop. Some retire after twenty years and take a second job. They get their smaller pension and collect a paycheck as well. I had lunch with a retired cop the other day and he was collecting four pensions. Twenty years with LAPD, and three other smaller pensions. Before you call some investigative news team, he earned every pension. .
Joseph Wambaugh author
Others spent thirty-five years with LAPD to draw a bigger pension and retire for good. Some higher-ranking officers retire from LAPD and become Chiefs of Police for other departments. Quite a few start their own businesses, usually police-related. Security, private investigation, personal bodyguard. Then there’s that strange group of officers who write books, following in the footsteps of Joseph Wambaugh.
A lot of cops retire and travel. They spend time with their spouses to make up for the time they missed while working. Sadly, some die within five years due to the stress and challenges of a difficult job. Many retired cops have disability pensions and others just have bad backs, worn-out knees, or post-traumatic stress. Yea, just like a war veteran.
I still have police dreams, you know the ones where your gun won’t fire, or you can’t run away from danger.
Some get divorced and their spouse takes half of their pension. So much for that long-range financial plan. Some care for an elderly parent or ill spouse.
What do those that retire for good do? Some of us became childcare experts. Hopefully, not our own, but the grandkids. I have changed more diapers since I retired than I did when my own kids were toddlers. I have watched more Disney Channel shows than Walt ever did. I can sing the entire song, “Hot Potato,” from the Wiggles. I have bought large sets of Lego’s and Lincoln Logs, again!!! Who threw out my old sets and while I’m at it, where the hell are my baseball cards?
I have dressed a Bratz Doll with my granddaughter as well as armed Luke Skywalker with a light saber for my grandsons. Bus service, to and from school also includes stops at McDonald’s, Jamba Juice, and Burger King.
A lot of cops catch up on home repairs and some learn to cook, without a microwave oven. I mean cook, not BBQ. They just don’t have their own cooking shows, yet. Others garden and some do nothing but attend retirement lunches. More on retirement lunches later!
A large group can’t wait to get out of Los Angeles or California. Cops tend to move to areas that have life styles more conducive to the politics of cops. They also have a desire to save their pension checks from tax collectors in states that will double dip. Double dip means that some states will tax your pension, after California has already taxed it. Ouch!!!
Retired cops change after they retire. Some grow long hair or wild mustaches, most of us don’t shave everyday unless we want sex, which is not the priority it once was. I once was given spare change while standing in line at Taco Bell!! I guess I needed a shave and a haircut. What the hell, I ordered an extra taco. Retired cops don’t care about being politically correct anymore so be careful if you ask for their honest opinion. You’ll get it and a lecture as well.
A lot of retired cops fish, hunt and golf more than our spouses like, but then I have spent more time shopping than I ever did when I was on the job. Did I mention that I see crooks in every aisle of a store?
The first few years after retirement I would stop by the station where I spent thirty-three years and say hi to old partners. Later, I didn’t know anyone and they didn’t know me. Once some rookie cop wanted to direct me to the senior citizen building. Most retired cops will tell you they don’t miss the job but really miss the partners. Partners bond for life. I few years ago I attended a Hollywood reunion and after five minutes, old partners I hadn’t seen in a decade were my best friends again. The internet lets you stay connected.
A growing trend among retired cops is retirement reunions or monthly lunches. A group of cops living in a geographical area will meet once a month and have breakfast or lunch. Some groups meet every three or four months but have a three day party. Some meet in Las Vegas, Laughlin, Idaho, Montana, or Missouri. A lot meet in L.A. or surrounding counties once a month. Some will drive 50/60 miles for a meal with old cops. That police experience is a bond that never leaves you. It gives us a chance to tell those stories that our spouses don’t want to hear again. One story sparks a memory and then another story is told. The good thing about retired cops is that their memory has failed them and you can tell the same story every month.
Retirement is good but the road to get there was great. Hal
I retired from the Los Angeles Police Department in 2005, after thirty-five years as a street cop. I spent most of my time working Hollywood Division, the Entertainment Capital of the World. It was entertaining to say the least.
I worked with some of the best cops and a few of the worst cops in the world. Together we laughed and far too often, we cried. We attended more cop funerals than we should have and we often hid our emotions. That’s just the way cops deal with the job. Some think that all goes away when cops retire. WRONG.
From your first day of work, you start thinking about the time that you can retire. You envision living on a beach or in a mountain cabin, sipping cocktails as the sun sets. Well the truth is a little different. It’s still good, but just a little more realistic. Some are more likely to find themselves drinking a warm beer while sitting on a Barca lounger chair.
I seldom let my neighbors know what kind of work I did. Example, a neighbor once knocked on my door late one night to settle a dispute with her boyfriend. I told her to call the police. My department frowns on me doing police work in my pajamas. Now that I’m retired I still watch strangers in my neighborhood, but I don’t do police work anymore—at least not when I’m awake. Asleep, I still chase bad guys and once solved the Black Dahlia case. Unfortunately in the morning I couldn’t remember the answer.
G.P.
Shortly after retiring, I’m sitting in my Eagle Rock home and I hear some gunshots. Now I know the difference between gunshots and firecrackers. I also know the difference between an ambulance siren and a police car siren. When you pin on that badge and work for a period of time you become a cop for life. Taking off the badge for the last time does not stop the years of training and experience that cops developed.
LAPD Helo
I hear a lot of police sirens and soon the police helicopter is circling about six blocks east of my house. I know it’s something big. A different neighbor who knew I was a cop calls and asks, “what’s going on?” I tell her I’ll find out.
I live in Northeast Division and don’t know anyone in the Watch Commanders office who might know me, so I call the Hollywood Watch Commander. They can check the source of the call on the computer. I call the inside line and get the PSR, (Police Service Representative.) I’ve only been retired a few months but she doesn’t know me. I ID myself as a recently retired police officer from Hollywood and ask her about the shooting in Northeast. She tells me that she can’t give out that information to the G.P.
I ask who the Watch Commander is and she tells me. It’s a sergeant I worked with, he remembers me. Cool, I’m going to get the info. He refers me back to the PSR. She tells me again that since I’m retired, I’m GP and not entitled to the information on the shooting.
A few months earlier I was a sergeant and often the Watch Commander of one of the busiest Divisions in the city of Los Angeles. I made decisions that might cause me an early retirement, the departments choice not mine. Now I’m G.P.
I wasn’t familiar with the term G.P. so I asked what’s G.P.? She calmly and professionally told me your General Public!!! I knew that night that I was retired and no longer a cop. It was a hard pill to swallow. I discussed with my wife getting a tattoo “GP” but she objected.
