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I'm done

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Maybe you can see I've not blogged with any regularity lately. Or, maybe you don't come here often enough to notice this...maybe. At any rate, this may be my last entry. Maybe, perhaps, possibly...it's a considerable option. One thing I am sure of, maybe can also be may be. Maybe is a universally used word, along with "we'll see". When my dad said, "maybe" I knew it meant "no." (I think FB has taken us away from blogging, not sure, but maybe...)

Park memories - beyond the obvious

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Here we have an average looking neighborhood park, Essex Circle Park. Notice the curb is painted red. The red curb has story behind it, a history of violence, narcotics, and other normal teen/young adult debauchery.


I was on a police squad that this park was within our jurisdictional patrol responsibilities. In the late 1970's, it became a problem. Calls for service were increasing each month, at and around the surrounding neighborhood. Calls from citizens fed up with teenagers run-amok. After school the park filled up. The trees on the left were smaller then, and it wasn't uncommon for me to find baggies of dope in the lower branches or around the roots covered in a feeble attempt of hiding with grass & dirt. I'd find young adults nearby and usually find the associated paraphernalia on them. I made it a point to patrol this park often during my shift in an attempt to curb the events that cause the neighbors to call and complain. (I arrested one guy three times in one week there once, but that's another story.) Plus, these calls were a nuisance to us. We'd have to leave Winchells' Donuts sometimes to respond here. :-)


Our squad was given the task of cleaning up the neighborhood and see how we can lessen the calls for service. Since most of the dopers, burglars, low lifes we found at the park lived elsewhere, I came up with the idea to paint the curb red....no parking. We passed on our request to the City Public Works Dept who obliged us fairly quickly. (a week or two at the most as I recall) Viola! It worked. Calls for service went down to "normal" for a residential neighborhood.


One of my hardest one-on-one arrests was with a guy in Essex Cir Park. I saw a guy in the center of the park with several bags of dope on the grass in front of him, he was laying them out as if taking inventory, and then methodically putting them inside his coat pockets. He saw me as I approached and tried grabbing it all at once and avoid me. He knew I was there but he didn't respond to my verbal commands, as if he ignored me, I'd go away. I kept trying to get him into handcuffs, keeping him on the ground, (me on top of him, he on his stomach) and he kept trying to hit me, get away from me and throw his dope away all at the same time. (he was so high, he was in another world) When he pulled out the hunting knife, it got serious. I used my baton on him, but it didn't phase him, but I did get the knife away and tossed it out of reach. We both struggled until I got cuffs on him...but hands in front of him. I was winded and thankful I got cuffs on him, drug him over to my car, stood on his cuffed hands and reached into the car and grabbed the radio mike. (I'd driven over the curb and onto the grass between others knowing if I got out an walked to him from the street, he'd run and I hated foot pursuits.) After help arrived, three of us got his hand behind his back with cuffs, the proper way. He was high on PCP. No wonder my hits didn't hurt him.

As an added note, while I was on the ground with this guy, a park local walked over and calmly laid down on his side, resting his head on his hand, elbow in the grass and watched. I called him by name and asked him for a little help. I knew he wouldn't but was desperate. After the three of us got my bad guy in the patrol car I turned to Chuck Z, (one of the cops who helped) and said to arrest him...referring to the doper who laid down and watched. Charge: failure to assist an officer - under the Posse commitatus statute(sp? ~ it’s Latin).

How I spent my birthday

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A friend of mine who lives in Mesquite, NV had booked us a tee time at the Casa Blanca Golf Course for 3/23. (you can see part of it from I-15 on the way into Mesquite) We'd been talking of playing someday for a few years now. It was my birthday and had off from work, so we made plans. Sadly, he couldn't make it but found two others to join us to make it fun foursome. It was really fun; it helped that it was free. . . comp. This picture is Mark and me on the first tee. The sun was behind us, which explains the poor iPhone quality. We got a late start due to early morning frost that delayed those in front of us. Our 7:50 tee time ended up being more like 8:45. But who could be mad when it's free? (Tracey said we make a cute couple. . .) Later that night my honey took me to the Outback where I enjoyed steak and lobster. Linda and Mark joined us. I had to share my birthday ice cream sundae. Not a bad thing.

All and all a good birthday. I wondered what makes a good birthday? It's not the presents, it's not breakfast in bed and certainly not being toasted at some bar (as in my single younger years) or having restaurant employees sing and clap a stupid happy birthday song to me; I feel it's knowing I'm still alive and have a family and wife that loves me for who I am, even with all my faults and the hard of hearing us old men get. . . I read this somewhere: Having birthdays is the only way I know of living longer.

Corpses, carcasses, stiffs or dead bodies… code 419 for Dead Body.

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They’re all the same thing; sometimes smelly sometimes not so, as with a more recently deceased human being, which is a sad thing when you think about it. But it’s a fact of life, and by statute, all dead bodies are investigated by law enforcement. That would have been me between 1974 & 2003. Before this, I’d never seen a dead body. By request from a loyal reader (EM) I’ve dug into my memory bank (actually, some of this may be already in written format) and came up with a few that are etched in my mind of the many dead-body calls I went on as a cop. I lost track of them. My first was an older man in a small travel trailer in a run down, old mobile home park on Boulder Highway. More dirt and wild Bermuda grass than lawns. Dirty, bent up garbage cans and junk cars lined the old paved street. I was a rookie cop, not even any academy experience yet. My training office told me to go inside, see what I could determine without touching anything then report back outside to him. He sat in the air-conditioned patrol car. The odor was apparent from outside the trailer, the flies on the inside of the screen door should have given me a clue how bad he was. The park manager hadn’t seen the guy in a few days. It was August. Got a visual yet? Let me help. I took a deep breath in anticipation of a short stay once I got inside. The guy was in his boxers and tee shirt, on his side, overweight and looked to me like he dropped straight to the floor, wedging himself in the small space between the wooden paneled walls of a mini hallway, a very uncomfortable position. I didn’t see any knives sticking out of him or bullet holes in him and quickly backed out, let out the old air and took in fresh. I told my T/O what saw. He told me to go back inside and get a better look. Look for lividity, make sure it’s on the bottom part of his body. Lividity? New to me… so I went back in, cupped my hand over my mouth and nose (which didn’t really fool my nose) and stepped over the body to see his back side. I reached down and barely moved his tee shirt, and yup, his skin was dark purple all along the lower part of his side nearest the floor. He hadn’t been moved since dying, the blood settling along his side by gravity, better known as lividity. Flies walked all over him as if in search of something important. He died where he fell. I was just short of gagging and went back out to report what I’d seen. We awaited the mortuary and coroner. The mortuary guys (think of Lurch) had to really struggle to straighten him out do to rigor mortis and his weight to get him on the gurney and strapped on. I realized that was a job I could never do. The coroner guessed heart attack, but I never knew for sure. We determined he died of natural causes and cleared ready for the next call. Simple as that. I had a brief lesson from my T/O on 419’s. I lost some of my rookie-ness.
There many other dead bodies all in various degrees of decomposition, smell and condition, both male and female. Some suicides with brain matter and blood splatters, a few carbon monoxide poisoning sitting in their car, some homicide victims – gun shot was most prevalent and a few accidental deaths to include, one industrial accident where the victim was run over by the front end loader he had been operating at the gravel pit alone, after hours, so we could only speculate what caused him to be in front of it when it bent him in half like a Raggedy Ann doll and disfiguring his skull shape. One of the worst; a 5 yr old girl hit by a car who appeared to be just sleeping in the street, a most unusual place, surreal in every aspect. I remember thinking of my little girls at home.
After a few years the shock of seeing a dead body lessened, but not the morbid sense of wanting to investigate and see all I could, not so much playing Joe Friday but helping ensure I wasn’t missing something obvious. I had to determine if it was suspicious in nature before I called the coroner or the detectives, normally, I didn’t call them both. Once I called the coroner only to quickly recant and call for paramedics. The guy only looked dead and was still alive; barely. I’d jumped to conclusions forgetting my lesson from my first dead body… But he smelled bad but not from rotting. No details here, but it was kind of funny at the time… cop humor. Just picture a guy in a bathtub full of putrid reddish brown water who had been in it for several days.
Okay, enough. Hope I can sleep tonight.

Can you eat chicken frozen for two years?

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All this and more at www.stilltasty.com/. Visit the site as there's numerous questions you may have that are answered for you; such as:

Just for kicks - update on life

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As I hadn't blogged awhile (I'm no match for those who blog religiously) so I thought I'd just put down random events to let the world know I'm alive. For instance, I write this while in the spare room, both dogs with me as Carol has two monkey boys with her for the night. We "boys" enjoyed popcorn, TV and blocks earlier, so I had my time. Starbucks trip in the morning for choc milk cartons and donuts, yep, healthy breakfast for any grand kid. :-)
I was feeling pretty good about work the last few weeks; had some extra ordinary sucess locating and identifying some unscrupulous, low-life, scum-of-the-earth unlicensed contractors and filing case(s) on them or giving them citations, filed two felony cases on a licensed pool company who lost their license but had commited numerous criminal acts in the process, dealt successfully with two Armenian groups - one the victim one the perps (I didn't trust either), spent a long day in court to finally testify and win a case, had a week long Interview and Interrogation class - did well at that, but not as good as the guy on "Lie to me" TV show, received a positive email from one victim for my prompt solving of her case - later had her dollarsignr2362 back in an envelope left for me with no return address on it, and scored my best golf round ever last weekend! . . then, a coworker who has been less productive than he should have been, gave his two week notice to quit. I was down to 8 active cases. (they are distributed evenly as the come in) I acquired 12 of his after they were divided up... I just don't understand the lack of work ethic of some people. Or is it me? Am I too driven? I felt like a blood hound yesterday, acquiring new information on two of these new cases while out of the office and just want them resolved.
On the plus side, I was asked today by an acquaintance for my phone number and suggested we play golf sometime. He said he thinks he would enjoy our time together. (this guy is battling cancer, we are similar in age, he was an USAF pilot) Some good news, Mark and I are already scheduled for Boulder Creek golf 2/17/11....11 AM tee time for dollarsignr10 cheaper rate.

Eye floaters, runny noses, roaches and bananas

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Since I haven't blogged recently I thought I'd provide some interesting facts:
Like, what causes “eye floaters”. For those who’ve never experienced this phenomenon, eye floaters are little oddly shaped objects that appear in your vision, often when one looks at bright light such as a blue sky. These are not optical illusions, but rather something your eyes are actually perceiving. In most cases these eye floaters are caused by pieces of the gel-like vitreous breaking off from the back portion of your eye and then floating about in your eye ball. As you age then, pieces of the still gel-like collagen/hyaluronic acid network will break off and float around in this watery center. When light passes through this area, it creates a shadow on your retina. This shadow is actually what you are seeing when you see the eye floaters. Children and teens rarely experience these, 50% of us will by the time we're 80.
On another note and on an average day, a typical person’s nose will produce about one quart of mucus/fluid (just under one liter). Most all of this snot generally gets passed back into your throat and swallowed, often without you even really being too conscious of it. When you’re breathing cold air though, the rate of mucus production goes up significantly, causing some of that snot to come out the front of your nose, rather than back in your throat. TMI? (Think of the movie Titanic, the scene with Leonardo DiCaprio teaching Kate Winslet how to spit off the ship. Or, that uncouth idiot in the Von's parking lot making all that noise, etc etc.)
A cockroach can live without its head for up to a week. While many have commonly heard cockroaches are the species most likely to survive a nuclear war, which isn't entirely accurate by the way, and they are well known as being among the most adaptable creatures on the earth, it’s still somewhat of a surprise that any creature can live for so long without its head. So you gotta squish them.

I'm a believer!

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1961 to 6119

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Thoughts bouncing around my mind: ie, ramblings. Where did the past 50 years go? I felt so smart when in 1961 I saw that when this year was written out and then turned upside down it was still 1961. When is the next date/year this will happen again - 6119??

Twenty years can go by pretty fast; forty years goes by a little slower, but depending on one’s age it’s all relevant; my mom would ask, “How did the past sixty years go by so fast?” We’re all destined to see our own mortality sooner than we plan; it’s inevitable.

Holding one of my grandsons is different than holding one of my own kids when they were the same age. I’d like to hold them again but it would be an awkward moment…why is that? Oddly, I don’t have the same expectations or future plans of my grandsons as I did my four kids. I’ve seen firsthand that my plans and expectations didn’t matter; free agency being the proverbial two-sided sword. We make our own destiny.

My first house costs less than my most recent car did. My first car cost less than my current lap top computer. I delete all e-mails telling me someone from high-school is trying to “re-connect.” I can second-guess how I spent money over the years but none of it will reappear.

Grey hair is caused by children. I can’t imagine life without a microwave or my cell phone. I have no idea what technology will be in "everyday use" when my grandsons are my age; I went from turning a knob to manually change one of only three channels on a small black and white TV to watching videos on my cell phone. I look in the mirror and know I’ll never again see that once familiar young man without grey hair and wrinkles. I know what causes body aches – but I resist slowing down. I should have invested in real estate instead of the stock market but I’m glad I invested what little I was able to. (Hint to those under 30 reading this…don’t waste your money on any “CD” that won’t return dollarsignr in the future)

Life seemed better when we sat in our front yard in the evening talking and waving to neighbors. Sizzler isn’t nearly as good as it once was! Politicians are politicians; they’re in it for personal gain/status/egos. Pigs will never fly. Graffiti is not art. Family is more important than anything.

The good, the bad, the ego & satisfaction

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Okay, so I don't do this anymore (referring to the picture above) also, I was never bald, heavy or wore a blue uniform, but I did put handcuffs on literally thousands of immoral folk over the years. There was a certain amount of satisfaction, sometimes more than others, when I'd actually put handcuffs on the bad guy, say "you're under arrest" and haul his/her sorry butt to jail. Truth is, some times I miss this. I wish I still had the ability of custodial arrest, but, since I don't, I've learned to be resourceful.
As you may or may not know, part of my job is to locate, identify and present cases to prosecute unlicensed "contractors". There's a fine line when I see a good person trying to make an honest living (I show leniency quite often.) as opposed to low-life, dishonest, fraudulent cheats, 'repeat offenders' or those who blatantly tout themselves a licensed contractor, knowing full well they should be licensed for a trade they advertise they can do. I play on the ego of these latter types. Such was the guy I filed case(s) on today. Last month while in a small town about an hour's drive north of Vegas, I found two business cards boldly pinned to a 'contractor' bulletin board in the local hardware store. I immediately recognized the business names as well as the 'construction superintendent' as who I'd dealt with before. His lack of respect of the laws kind of got my ire up. Both licenses have been revoked. The person named on the cards has never been a manager or qualified employee on either license.

*Long story short: I called him posing as homeowner interested in new pool installation. He had ample opportunity to tell me he can't do this anymore. He didn't. I made copious notes during our conversation, obtained his email address and verified who I was talking to. "Yep, them's my business cards." I gained his trust and through only two email conversations he acknowledged he can design and construct my pool and provided price quotes. *Oddly enough, a week long gap of no correspondence occurred, because he was "out of the country on a church mission assignment." (I didn't ask what church.) Today when I called him and let him in on my investigation he cried foul, using profanity not new to my ears, saying I'd used fraud to catch him. "Who's the fraud?" I asked him and told him the Supreme Court approves my methodology, the courts won't approve of his. He has three prior cases with plea bargained adjudications, one awaiting trial. I strongly recommended to the D/A no negotiations this time. . . (Note; the one outstanding case involves a homeowner who's out a lot of money, as this guy abandoned the job near the end when he had been paid in full. He's not very Christian.)

Pictures from places far. . .

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far away. Here I am in the barracks at Ft Lewis, Washington, Army basic training. I was 18 yrs old. We were "buds for life." I can't remember their names & I don't know what happened to them. We all went different ways after basic training. Without hesitation, we relied on each other for everything.
This one below is Plieku Vietnam. All dressed up for guard duty that I pulled every third night. (Here I am standing in front of a bunker built between our hooches to run for cover during mortar/rocket attacks. The perimeter bunkers were just sandbag covered holes in the ground, and on the edge of our camp and jungle.) We sat on/in bunkers surrounding Camp Holloway. Each had the old, hand crank field phones. One hour watch, and sleep three, as there were four men to a bunker. A few scary nights and never enough sleep...

The Chinese Fire drill

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What I found out today

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Today I found out why flavored carbonated beverages are called "soft drinks". It's because soft drink refers to nearly all beverages that do not contain a significant amount of alcohol (hard drinks). I grew up calling all soft drinks, coke; but later heard the terms"pop" or "soda." Strange how that is. Interestingly, a study in 2006 found most carbonated drinks actually do contain a little alcohol. . . hic . . . Didn't know that, did you? We can thank the CO2, which when added, results in a natural fermentation of the sugars and the flavor extracts used in these "soft drinks". Wait!! It should be noted that a typical container of yogurt of similar size contains about two times the amount of alcohol.
Now, you guys know too. Enjoy your yogurt....... :-)

a few thoughts on golf

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There's several reasons why I like golf, none probably more obvious than the wild life on the course. . .
or, the wild life I might see on the way to the first tee. . .

25 things you may not know about me

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I stole this idea from Kimberly as I was at a loss for a blog topic. Even then, I wasn't sure I'd come up with 25 things to complete this (without totally boring reading - well, maybe only a little yawn). I only wish I'd had kept a journal, like how many monkey bars I could complete in the allotted time. I do know that I had the fasted time or the most completed sets of these monkey bars in my army basic training (item #9 below) in our final PT test.
1. I was born in Henderson, NV- St Rose Hospital.
2. I’ve sat on a dynamite box in the back of grandpa’s jeep riding up a bumpy trail.
3. I’ve sat next to a miner crimping blasting caps & fuses in these sticks of dynamite and then I tapped them down into holes with an old broom stick.
4. I never ditched a day of school in my life. (no one believe me!)
5. I wanted to play drums in school but Dad bought me the coronet instead-I was a less than enthusiastic student.
6. I was engaged to be married before Carol…. I was in kindergarten.
7. I’ve swam and water skied in a lake with water moccasins - until I knew - then no more.
8. I’ve shot rattle snakes.
9. I was platoon champ at hand over hand parallel monkey bars in the Army. (insert picture)
10. I’ve ridden in a car on Dayton Beach racetrack as well as on the actual beach.
11. I once tried dental repairs without Novocain...didn’t work out too well.
12. I built our house once. (with help, of course)
13. I tried to jump over but was thrown over a speeding car once.
14. I have a bone graft & its applicable hardware in me due to above jumping incident.
15. I used to ride to scout camp in the back of a pickup truck and enjoy it.
16. I used to slalom water ski.
17. Pre-LDS days I “inhaled” and had a few hangovers.
18. I’ve been in a few physical confrontations where I wasn’t sure of the outcome.
19. I was once the store’s only shipping & receiving clerk at Montgomery Wards in Vegas.
20. My last deer hunting experience made me realize I only went because of dad.
21. I ran away from home once. I was five years old and don’t remember the reason I felt I had to run away.
22. I drove from Alabama to Vegas in three days in a car without a working speedometer.
23. I rode my bike to school up into Jr High. (okay, not so exciting)
24. I’ve met both Clintons and Al Gore – more than once.
25. I’ve been in the ring with Mike Tyson.