Learning to Love

I was up late packing, getting ready to leave the next day for break.  There was a knock at the door, which was a little surprising, since it was well after midnight.  Looking out the window I saw it was a police sergeant, so I let him in.

Apparently my friend Pam was accusing me of breaking into her home and racking up hundreds of dollars in long distance charges on her phone.  This would be funny in almost any other setting, but given the state of Pam’s mental health, it was just sad.  The sergeant knew the accusation was probably not true, but he was going through the motions to clear this case.

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Merry Christmas

HiRes_5704368891067DThe last five years have gone by in a blur.  Each year, as approached – a relatively simple event in our lives – I had great intentions of creating a letter for and , but never got to it.  So, here I am, the day before Christmas, sitting down to write a few words.

In the last five years Christmas letters have mostly become passé.  Given the ubiquitous nature of Facebook and Twitter updates, it is really unnecessary for me to fill you in on the details of our lives.  Anyone that cares to, is able to take a cursory look at my tweets and/or status updates and know what’s been going on.  Then there is my blog, Flickr photos, and various other online social media.

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Tears in Rain

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t understand.  I have images burned into my brain – that have wounded and scarred me to the core of my being.  I’ve seen things that no person should ever have to see.

The other day, a cop friend of mine was talking about some of the things she has seen.  She mentioned how they joke about using the MIB “flashy thing” when they retire – to erase all the things they’ve seen.

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