I had just hung up with my 77-year-old retired state trooper buddy, Bill. You remember him. He lives on Copper Mountain and hosts a catered shootout each year with his closest friends. I could tell he was mobile as we talked, hearing his German Shepard, Mattis, in the background speaking Shepard, contributing to the conversation.
Bill doesn’t pussyfoot around when talking. He gets directly to the point — a trait I love about the former K-9 and SWAT team member. If you want to hear the straight poop, just ask an old cop. Bill jokingly tells me he’s on a “S**t detail,” taking a stool sample to the veterinarian for Mattis’ yearly worm check.
As I play fetch with my mixed-Shepard mutt, Maisie, from the deck, the conversation steers towards Coronavirus and the lockdown restrictions in place. Bill says, “Tank, I’ll be damned if I’m going to slink around like some stray dog with my tail tucked between my legs during this Coronavirus mess. You and I both knew when we strapped our guns on for work every day, we knew the possibility we might not make it back home always played in the back of our mind.” Bill had put into words what I had been thinking all along concerning this pandemic — I’m simply not afraid of all the media hype.
Living with the mere thought that any day as cops could potentially be our last made us think differently than most people. Our mindsets changed. We became suspicious of people inwardly, while projecting a friendly demeanor outwardly, or at least trying to. We were always on alert, looking, scanning for potential threats. We simply learned to live with it while doing our jobs. It gave us a feeling of control and comfort doing this.
Bill goes on to say, “I’m not sticking my head in the sand, I take all the precautions — wash my hands, keep a distance from others — but I’ll be damned if I’m going to worry about this mess.” And he’s right! Worry is the most useless of emotions. It doesn’t solve a thing and burns a lot of energy.
