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I saw a black and white with lights and sirens
"code 3" pass right by me, on my way to the
liquor store, I waved right at he...don't you
see, he is what I used to be, rolling hot to
the robbery...and then...it hit me. So Today I
sat outside upon my old chair, to think, to
ponder, to reminisce and stare. The night was
cold, the moon so bold, the clouds were scarce,
the air was dry, and I began to cry. I thought
about it all-the job, the good times and the
bad...I chuckled and shed tears because I was
sad. I had the best job, I had, I had...my
breath was hard as gasoline, hotter than that
of a 30 carbine, whiskey and tobacco is all
I've seen, as flashbacks sometimes pop up and
flare, since I've been out here on this old
chair.
The job you ask which I will share...it
required a shiny shield and a big old gun. It
required a heart stronger than that of the sun,
it required patience and it was a lot of
fun...boy was it, I had a good run. I've sat in
the chair at the courthouse with nothing to
eat, I've sat in the chair at the coroners and
pulled back many of a bodies' sheet, I've sat
in the chair of a police car for years as my
seat, Hell I've sat in the Chief's chair for a
disciplinary greet....but nothing is depressing
as this old chair that's become my seat. As I
sit in this chair, cold are my feet, my vision
blurred and my hands shake, they shake much
like yours when there's nothing to eat. I can
barely hold a glass of whiskey anymore, or
barely make it to the grocery store, the years
of law enforcement have worn me to my core, the
brutal memories of blood and gore.
But there were many memories so great, working
a lonely car out so late, the big calls you
prepare and patiently wait, roll the dice each
shift and note your fate, and wrestling with
the huge drunk with a staggered gate...laughing
with partners over a "code 7" or hot coffee at
3am at the 7-Eleven. We ran the show, and
everyday my face smiled with a glow, I
patrolled the dirty streets much like skid row,
chit chatting on the down low with the city
hoe, ohh the streets caused me to grow, time
flew by like a fly, and one thing that I didn't
think of then or know...was that I'd be sitting
in this old chair at the end of the show..." I
told my son, a policeman too, don't you wind up
in this here chair, please please, don't you
dare. It harvests sadness with a bit of a
scare, a seat full of memories I just won't
share....god dam, damn this old chair...find
yourself a soft pillow to sleep on and care,
for this chair boy, this chair ain't fair, do
the job like a grizzly bear, don't bottle your
emotions keep them out in the air...stay far
away...from this old chair."
About the Author
Detective Patrick Shrum began his law
enforcement career as a police explorer. He
enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He
became a military police officer and during his
service he provided law enforcement and
security for Marine One under both President
Bush and Obama. After his Marine Corps
service, he became a Federal Police Officers;
and, then a Los Angeles Police Officer; and,
joined another Southern California Police
Department where he has recently been promoted
to Detective. He is a recipient of the
“Presidential Service Certificate Award for
Honorable Service in the White House, and the
highest civilian police award-The Medal of
Valor”
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