Walking on Sunshine

 Walking on Sunshine

 

Back in the eighties there was a song called Walking on Sunshine. The chorus said “I’m walking on sunshine, wo-oh, And don’t it feel good?”

 

Despite the poor English, I agree. 

Walking on sunshine indeed feels good. 

 

I can’t help but sing these words as I stroll through my neighborhood. I feel good in part, because with the changing of seasons, the leaves are turning from a somewhat monotone green to glorious colors of red, orange, and gold. I feel good because the sun warms my face and touches my soul. 

 

October is one of my favorite months for many reasons. Yes, it is soothing to sit outside and soak in the autumn sun. But there is more.

 

In October, the apples are ready to be picked. When I was a little girl, we worked together at my grandparent’s farm cleaning the apples, cutting them, and feeding them into the cider press. To tell the truth, I probably did little to help with the making of cider…but give me a tree to climb and I was your girl.   

 

Perhaps the best reason for me to embrace October is that my middle daughter, Danielle, celebrates her birthday this month. Like the leaves, Danielle changed from an active baby to a tomboy; from tomboy to a beautiful girl; from a beautiful girl to an incredible wife and mother. 

 

Now all four of her children are in school and Danielle is making another transition as she finds new ways use her many gifts and talents.

 

It’s what happens. Like the leaves on the trees, as we move through the seasons of life, we all change. 

 

Change isn’t something to fear. Neither is aging. We cannot live in spring or summer forever. Though my mother disagrees, I am likely in the autumn of my life (okay, Mom…early autumn). 

It is a vibrant time of joyful living, a new and exciting relationship, and rest from the demands of raising little ones or plodding off to work every day.

 

I enjoy this time. I enjoy the sun whether it shines above or crunches beneath my feet in the form of colorful leaves. 

 

I’m walking on sunshine…and don’t it feel good? 

My Neighborhood In Autumn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Special Weapons And Tactics

 S.W.A.T. 

Not Sweat. Not Sweet.

Not even S.W. A. K., for those of you old enough to remember that phrase on the back of an envelope.  

S.W.A.T. ... Special Weapons And Tactics.

For those of you following my Citizen Police Academy journey, I’m happy to report I survived the S.W.A.T. team adventure this week. 

 

This is a police tactical unit trained to use, as the name indicates, special equipment and employ maneuvers necessary for unique situations. For example, someone may be armed and barricaded in a building. He or she may have hostages to be rescued. We’ve all seen the scenarios on television. 

 

In fact, we watch television and we get a fairly accurate picture of the makeup of a S.W.A.T. team. We understand the team consists of a commander and negotiators. We see armed police officers including those with rifles. And there are members of the team identified as “entry personnel.” Those are those heavily protected guys we watch carry shields, knock down doors, and rush into the scene.

 

So if television offers a clear picture, why take the class? What is left?

 

Becoming part of the team. 

 

Well, at least participating in some training. The S.W.A.T. team uses three vehicles: An armored boxy looking vehicle to carry the team to the crime site, a transport vehicle to take hostages or bystanders to a safe location, and the Command Operations Platform. (Yeah, I know…it spells COP.) 

 

Half of our class climbed into the black boxy armored vehicle called “the BEAR.” It has heavily plated walls and bulletproof glass. Here’s a pic:

 

 

The rest of the class boarded the transport vehicle. We left the C.O.P. behind and rode to a country location (who knows where…) to engage our own bit of training.

 

There we learned about the tactics our S.W.A.T. team uses. For this exercise, they presented us with a few scenarios. The property is set up with the walls of a house or motel with winding halls and a variety of rooms. We were the “bad guys” in that scenario. We learned about the types of weapons needed to target the “bad guys” and remove them from the building. In another case, the “bad guy” had a hostage in a car. You get the idea. The police officers walked us through the strategies and weapons they would use and why. It was pretty interesting. 

 

But for me the most fun was that I was one of the two people selected to shoot a 40mm gun with a bullet made of rubber. This is designed to inflict pain in someone’s thigh so they’ll stop advancing. The “bullet” would bruise, but not cause permanent damage. (My kind of bullet. Just saying.) As it turned out, I hit the target. 

 

Those of you who know me know I am not a gun person. So why am I doing all of this? Why is this particular night of value to me?

 

I’m a writer. I am crafting a book where the antagonist is a broken man kidnapping people across the state. My protagonist is searching for this man. He is working with the police to track him down. I don’t want to give too much away just yet, but I’m pretty sure, if everything shakes out as planned, my local police department will be at the heart of the book’s success.

 

And just for fun, here are a few more pictures:

Rubber Bullet:
I put it next to
a chapstick so you
could see its size. 

Real bullet

Some of the Team! Thank you!

Believe it or not, this little robot 
is a valuable part of the team, too!

 

 

 

 

  

 

Family, Food, and Firewood

 Family, Food, and Firewood

 

It is always good to get together with family. I often think of a family reunion as a houseful of people all talking at the same time, lots of food, and tons of laughter. This year was a bit different.

 

I chose the date for the reunion at my house because my sweet cousin, Crystal would be in town. She lives in Naples, Florida. Crystal was in Ohio for her niece’s wedding…and before you ask, yes, her home in Naples was untouched by Hurricane Ian. That’s a praise.

 

As the week for the gathering at my house neared, I heard from various cousins about conflicts with the date or received those “try to get there” messages. In the end, of the dozen or so cousins I have on my father’s side of the family, four of us put our feet under my dining room table. Four cousins, Julie’s husband, Keith and my mom… Six of us all together. Then my daughter, Kendall and her two little girls showed up.

 

It was perfect.

 

Crystal, Julie, and my mom brought food. Kendall brought marshmallows to roast. I supplied hotdogs, buns, and drinks. My cousin John arrived with a truckload of firewood. 

 

We shared stories and memories. We chuckled and shook our heads at our own silliness. We laughed at the story of Aunt Maxine finally getting her drivers license at age eighty-eight…after years of driving without one. A lot of stories started with “Remember when…”

 

While we were still sitting at the table, Julie and Keith’s daughter sent pictures from her honeymoon in Jamaica. Tara swimming with dolphins; Tara holding what looked like an iguana. Tara and Brandon creating their own new family memories.

 

We never did get out to the fire pit. We didn’t roast a single marshmallow. We didn’t make one s’more. 

 

After the others headed home, my cousin John and I took a walk in the neighborhood. We were walking the streets where our grandfather’s cows once roamed over a rolling field and through what my grandmother called “the big woods.” We talked about the old farm and the newer neighborhood. It was as much as story of the fields and woods as it was how the landscape of our lives changes over time. 

 

Old memories shared and new memories being made. 

 

Before he left, John and I stacked the firewood he brought. It will serve me well this winter. The fire will warm my house, but it’s the memories of those I love that warms my heart.

 

 

 

The Body Cam

 Fitted with a Body Camera 

 

If you’ve followed my blog, you know I am currently enrolled in our local Citizens Police Academy. 

 

Last week offered lessons learned about making decisions. Certainly, our police officers make thousands of split second decisions every shift. My own mistakes in the Firearms Simulator gave me a new appreciation for the power the influence of others can have on decisions we make daily. (If you missed that post you can go back and read it HERE.)

 

This week, three teams presented information to our class: Force Science, the Body Worn Camera Unit, and the Integrity and Development Unit (think “internal affairs”). These areas offer critical, independent data to assess those decisions officers make in the field on a daily basis. 

 

The underlying theme for each?

 

ACT: Accountability, Credibility, and Transparency.

 

I could certainly create a post for each. But not today. For this post, I want to explore the notion of “body cameras.”

 

Our presenter demonstrated how body cameras work, how the information cannot be altered by the person wearing it, and how the data is downloaded and stored at the end of each shift.

 

I looked to the woman beside me in class and jokingly said, “This could be a great tool for raising teenagers.” She laughed, but the truth is this: body camera information is only a small piece of the puzzle.

 

In this day and age of instant access to information, cell phones, and body cams, we  often view events on television in what we may consider “real time.” I know many of us watch videos and immediately think we are seeing the whole truth unfold before our eyes. 

 

I was privileged to raise three daughters. I watched them grow to be incredible women, wonderful wives and mothers. They are great people. I not only love them, I like them. Would I feel the same way if I had “body cam footage” from every aspect of their lives?

 

I can’t help but wonder how others would assess my life if all they had was the footage from a camera mounted to my vest. 

 

They might see my refrigerator door open as I scan the contents for breakfast and choose a yogurt. They might think, “That’s healthy.” What they wouldn’t see is me wishing I hadn’t run out of chocolate pudding and making a mental note to buy more. Chocolate pudding for breakfast? I never said I make wise choices.

 

If I wore a body cam to a football game, viewers may see what I see and hear me cheer for my team, but the footage may or may not pick up on me knocking over the drink of the guy next to me. Yes, I can be a klutz. Hopefully, the footage will reveal I apologized and offered to buy him another drink.

 

When I was in college, would the camera have shown me doodling instead of taking notes or would it be aimed at the professor? Actually, that could be pretty good. Go to class, sleep through the class, download the lecture, and replay it as you study. Nah…if it put me to sleep the first time, I won’t make it through the next.

 

It could be hard to view my life through a single lens. Hard for anyone else to make sense of the million decisions I make each day. Some might judge me as being lazy while others might think I’m hyper. A single lens offers a single vantage point.

 

As for police and body cam footage or spectators and cell phone videos? These are only pieces of the story puzzle. Pieces. 

 

There is a verse in the Bible that reads, “…be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” It’s in the book of James. To me it’s a reminder to assemble all the pieces of the puzzle before rendering judgment.

 

I’m glad I’m not fitted with a body cam from God. If I had to stand before God one day and account for every mistake I’ve made that showed up on my body cam footage, I’d be in a heap of trouble. God already sees me for who I am and loves me anyway. And He’s already forgiven me.

Here is one rendition of a Body (and) Camera!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Decisions...Decisions

Decisions…Decisions

 

Last week I wrote about using the firearms simulator at the Citizens Police Academy training. I mentioned this training is important because our officers must learn critical decision-making skills. CLICK HERE if you missed that post.

 

I shared with you my overall success. Note I said, “overall,” not total. I joked with a friend that I managed to get a pretty good score…and only killed one civilian. Nothing funny there.

 

What? Yes it was a simulator, but killing one civilian is one too many.

 

I’ve been thinking this over all week. I know what happened there, but how it plays out in real life may be a more powerful lesson.

 

First, let’s go back to the simulator. We were paired with another classmate for the firearms simulator activity. The person with the weapon was to assess the situation alone and choose to fire or not. The other person was to remain quiet. 

 

That worked for the most part. But in this one situation, the woman behind me blurted out, “Is that a gun in his waistband?”

 

She said there was a bulge. He reached around and I shot. I got him…and his flashlight never touched me. You read that right. The man was removing a flashlight. There was no gun. 

 

Would I have reacted the same way on my own? Or did the woman’s voice behind me influence my decision? I think it did. I never saw a bulge or a gun. I listened to what she said and what she saw. 

 

I’ve mulled this over and over. Right or wrong, the voices of others who are equally uninformed are able to influence our thinking. We must…yes MUST…think for ourselves.

 

I hate to use this example because it comes from the Christian world. Many people lost a lot of money and even more confidence in preachers when Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker defrauded thousands of people of millions of dollars. The Bakkers spoke. People listened. Even if it didn’t make sense that anyone and everyone investing in Heritage, USA would have all the benefits promised. There is only so much to go around.

 

And remember Jonestown? Jim Jones spoke. People listened. Right up until the moment they drank the Kool-aid and died.

 

Those examples are old…but they ring true today. I fear many people simply listen to something on television or the radio and make decisions based on what they hear from someone else.

 

People with their own agenda like to tell others how to think or what to do.

 

We are entering the poll booth season. The midterm elections and ads on television are already taking aim at us. I’m not the one to tell you which candidate to choose or how to vote on any given issue. 

 

I’m only here to remind you to think for yourself. Don’t waste your voting bullet to shoot down a harmless or perhaps even helpful target. 

 

 

Train. Serve. Protect.

 Train, Serve, Protect... 

and Train Some More

A couple of weeks ago I shared my first impressions of my local Citizens Police Academy. I have now completed three of my ten-week class sessions and last Saturday participated in a “ride along” experience with officers in the field.

 

I accompanied one officer Saturday evening from 7:00pm to the end of his shift before tagging along with the second officer until my tour ended at 2:00am on Sunday morning. 

 

The “ride along” experience gave me a new view of my community. I didn’t realize how our roughly thirty-six square mile township fit in the scheme of the Greater Cincinnati area; in ethnicity and socio-economic status as well as in terms of land use. 

 

I’ll admit, there was a part of me that wanted to see a bit of action. And I did. But there was the responsible adult in me hoping for a boring, uneventful evening… unless it of course involved something sweet and innocuous straight out of books of Mayberry. 

 

Saturday night, we received calls regarding domestic disputes, a sick raccoon wandering the neighborhood, the threat of gun violence at an apartment complex, and alarms sounding at area warehouses. There were a few traffic stops and a missing elderly man. The officers I rode with answered all of my questions without hesitation. I learned how radar works, examined the evidence kit used to process crime scenes, and learned all about the onboard computer system. I even found out our police station has its own gas pump. 

 

I learned so much about procedures and protocol. But the big takeaway?

 

A community is a patchwork quilt and the police keep it from becoming unraveled.

 

The part of the township where I live is mostly residential. The number of growing business concerns tucked in areas that were once farms gave me both a new appreciation for our law enforcement officers as well as the tasks our elected commissioners face to bring balance and income to our area.

 

Class 3: Firearms Simulator  

 

This was cool.

 

The truth is, I wasn’t sure how I would feel about participating in a gun battle, albeit it computer generated.  Although I learned to shoot guns in my youth, I have become reluctant to approve of firearms in the home. 

 

While one officer talked with the group about conceal and carry training and firearms licensing, small groups of us were taken to a training room where we faced movie type scenarios, made split second decisions and shot laser fitted firearms at bad guys. We could then see a recap of our performance. 

 

Our police officers do this same training because decision-making is a critical skill for those whose charge is to serve and protect.

Here are a couple of pictures : 

Guns used for the simulator:
Actual guns fitted with laser technology.
Same weight and feel as the 
actual weapon.

Filmed Shooter: It's him or you!

I started the Citizens Police Academy to inform my writing. I wanted to adequately portray the workings of the police.  I will use the information as I construct new stories and novels. That's good.

But the more I learn, the more I appreciate those people dedicated to serving our community by daily putting their lives on the line to protect ours.

 

 

 

 

 

Ready to Party?

May 1995

When is the Party?

As most of my readers know, I was a teacher for many years. I eventually turned in the red pen used for grading and picked up the black one used for writing. 

 

I loved teaching. I loved working with children in the elementary school setting. I have remained close to many of those kiddos through the years. I’ve attended a few graduations and weddings. I’ve watched as they have grown into incredible men and women. This is one such story.

 

In 1994, I received my class roster for the upcoming school year. It was my practice to complete a home visit with each of my students before the first semester started. I would call ahead and arrange a time to visit the student as well as meet the parents and siblings. Often the child would show me his or her room or introduce me to a beloved pet. One student asked me to climb up in the tree house he and his dad built together. I must admit that was a first, but because I loved to climb trees as a child, I obliged.

 

Then there was Adam.

 

Adam was a special case. When I visited his home, he had just been diagnosed with cancer. Adam had an inoperable tumor in his brain. I met his mother and older sister that day. We talked about school. He told me they were going on a Disney vacation. He showed me his backyard. 

 

It was a tough time for the family. I could see the pain in his mother’s eyes. I was determined when I left Adam’s house to make sure the school experience offered a haven of normalcy in all of their lives. And I prayed. 

 

I have what I call my alphabet prayer. Whenever I tell someone I will pray for them, I file their name under that letter of the alphabet. It isn’t a physical file, mind you. It is one I carry around in my head. Every day, I pray through that list. Sometimes people drop off of the list as their prayers are answered. Sometimes the prayers change. And usually the prayers start with praise. 

 

(As an aside, I often pray the alphabet prayer at night. I joke that people whose names start at the beginning of the alphabet are the lucky ones, because I sometimes fall asleep around the M’s and N’s. I do try to make up for it though.)

 

Since starting in the summer of 1994 I have prayed daily for Adam. My prayer was…is… simple. “I praise you, God for the healing of Adam Gellenbeck.”

 

Adam was a candidate for a new technique to treat the tumor growing deep in his brain. As I understand the procedure, the surgeons used a radiation treatment to implode the growth on itself. This would stop the cancer.

 

In May of 1995, Adam stood in front of our class for “sharing time.” Some people call it “show and tell.” My rules for sharing were simple. 1) You must use at least three complete sentences and 2) After you share, you may answer three questions from the audience. There were rules for the audience as well. They had to ask a question instead of offering a comment and the question could not be answered with a simple a yes or no.

 

That day, Adam stood bravely in front of our class.

 

“I’m going to California,” he said. “They’re going to put something in my brain. I might die. If I die, I won't come back. But if I don’t die, I’ll come back for my birthday party at my grandma’s. You can come. Any questions?”

 

Hands flew up. I will never forget the first question. “When is the party?”

 

There was so much faith and hope in that question. It was filled with the assurance that Adam would return. And he did. We all gathered at his grandmother’s pool that summer for the best birthday party ever.

 

I have not waivered in my prayers and praises for Adam. I prayed him through his elementary and high school years. I prayed him through college. I prayed over him when as an architect he joined up with Back2Back ministries and began designing and building housing and schools for special needs children in Mexico. I prayed for him as he married a beautiful woman named Bere. I watched the wedding video on my computer and again praised God for the healing of Adam Gellenbeck. 

 

A few weeks ago, Adam contacted me. He and his bride were going to be in Ohio. There was to be a reception for them at Adam’s home church. He wanted to know if I could come. My answer? Absolutely.

 

Yep, that's me with Adam and his bride, Bere.

I told my family about it. 

 

“When’s the party?” they asked.

 

I had to smile. That question is still loaded with faith and hope and anticipation. 

The alphabet prayer continues. “A” for Adam and “B” for Bere, his bride. 

“I praise you God for the healing of Adam Gellenbeck. And I praise you for Bere, his bride.”

P.S. I hope to visit this sweet couple in Mexico in the future. Came close to it once several years ago, but that is another story. you can find it HERE.