The Trucking Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and on all the roads,
Truckers headed home, having emptied their loads.
Headed east from Atlanta, with the hammer down,
To play Santa for my Baby, back in J-Town.

There was Dickie in a Freightliner, Gary a Mack,
Two Centurys, then a Pete, with a tanker out back.
And Terry with his log truck and me in my Pete,
We were in the middle, we had the best seat.

When under the hood there arose such a clatter,
I hit the shoulder to see what was the matter.
Out the door I was gone in a flash,
Throw open the hood, find out what I'd trashed.

The smoke, the oil, it was all such a mess
I couldn't figure it out, I tried my best.
When headed west but what did appear,
A mobile service truck, amber lights flashing clear.

The young man driving was slender and quick,
My prayers have been answered, he could've been St. Nick.
The truck turned in the median and back he came,
Hollered at his helpers calling each one by name.

"Ray, and Dillon, and Donnie too,
This truck is trashed, this driver is screwed.
To the back of our truck, let's get our tools,
A computer, some gloves, and a turbo too."

Then in a twinkling, they were under the hood.
Wrenches flying, man are they good.
As I shook my head and was turning around,
He jumped from the truck, landing with a bound.

He was dressed in a uniform from his head to his feet,
It was covered in dirt, oil, water and grease,
A box full of tools he had in his hand,
The look on his face, one determined young man.

His eyes looked right through me, as by me he ran,
And fired up a generator in back of the van.
He returned with more tools and a box filled with parts.
I don't care what it costs, as long as this baby starts.

A harness full of wires he held tight in his teeth,
As he stripped each end from under it's sheath.
He had a smile on his face as they laughed, joked and talked,
Me, I was nervous, up and down the shoulder I walked.

He was slender and fit, along with his crew,
Each seemed gifted, they knew what to do.
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head
soon gave me to know i had nothing to dread

He spoke not a word as they finished their work,
He climbed in the truck and hit the key, it started with a jerk.
He gave his workers each a high five,
As he revved the engine, then from the truck he climbed.

He jumped in his van along with his crew,
I asked about the bill, what do I do?
But he yelled from the window as he drove out of sight
Merry Christmas to You and to All a Good Night


                                        By: Tony D Taylor

I Voted, Now Back to Work.

Well, time to go back to work. I'll be heading to south Georgia and then on to Tennessee and down to south Texas. I don't have a clue as to when I'll make it back home but it probably won't be in time to cast my vote. I will not let this year go by without at least having some say in the elections. The wife and I headed down to the County Elections office first thing this morning and cast our votes in early voting. Done. I love it!

Taking an impromptu poll of family and friends I found that only about 1 in 20 are even registered to vote. This is horrendous. Voting is not only your right, but a duty. Of the 19 who are not registered a few of them are the ones yelling the loudest about no jobs, rising gas prices, stagnant economy and any other thing you can think of. SHUT UP! If you don't vote then you have no say. You don't have a right to complain.

I can't believe the excuses. The biggest one is that, "My one vote ain't gonna mean anything." YES IT DOES! Lets take a look at a few in recent history.
1) This year: Rick Santorum defeated Mitt Romney in the Iowa caucuses by 34 votes out of 121,503 total votes cast. A margin of only 0.28%. Of course Romney went on to win the nomination overall but this was the closest GOP primary in history.
2) United States Senate election in the State of Washington, 2000. Democrat Maria Cantwell defeated Republican Incumbent Slade Gorton by only 2229 votes out of 2,461,379. A margin of less than 1 percent.
3) 2010 Lakeview, Ohio School District was won by only 2 votes out of 3,570.
Several state electoral races have come in at under 1/2 of a percentage point. We won't even talk about Bush and Gore in 2000 where it was 0.009%.
Don't say your vote does not count.

Talking to our daughter this morning I asked her why she doesn't vote. "I don't keep up with the issues enough to stay informed," was her response. You're a young, bright, college student. The future of this country depends on your generation to be informed and keep up with the issues. You're an accounting major. It seems like the economy would be first and foremost on the minds of all your classmates and yourself. I know that you look at more on that computer than Facebook. Flip through the news pages. There aren't too many newspapers left anymore but get the news from someplace and not just one source.

When Diane and I started dating I was still an Investigator with the Johnston Police Department. She had never voted, and other than workplace gossip, she didn't have a clue as to what went on in her own town. She was amazed that I was getting called out at all hours of the day and night for robberies, murders, any, and every, imaginable crime.  She told me after only a few weeks, "I didn't know all that went on here." She just got up, went to work, and came home. Now she is one of the most informed people I know. She developed an honest interest in what went on not only in our town and county, but the entire country.

That is just what everyone in this country needs to do. Instead of just walking around looking at the sidewalk, look up, look around, see what is happening. Find out why your gas prices are rising. Find out why your groceries have gone up about 37% in the last two years. Your gross income is the same as it was last year, so why am I seeing less in my paycheck?

What I'm asking is to take the time to get informed and get out and vote. Your vote does matter.

On another note I wish the best to my friends who are running for office this year: Sonny Cox, Coroner Greenwood County, Bob Fisher, Greenwood County Council, Sonya Spray, Aiken County treasurer, Donnie Myers, Eleventh Circuit Solicitor and Shane Massey, SC State Senate.

Sonny, Bob, and Sonya I can't vote for you since I don't live in your counties, but I do wish each and every one of you the best of luck and I know you'll do great things for your citizens.

Patriot Guard Riders

Earlier today I was looking at the new members on the SC Patriot Guard Forums with the intent of sending something to welcome and tell them what to expect from a personal perspective. I deleted it before finishing as I realized there was just too much to tell in a forum, so I decided to come here and try to tell everyone, not just new members, what this organization has meant to me.

New members: Welcome. My first, and probably best, piece of advice to you is get a good pair of sunglasses. Not as much for protection from the sun but to hide the tears that will inevitably well up in your eyes at each and every mission. You can't help it, and it will happen. Chances are you didn't know the person you will be standing the flag line for, but you do know that sometime during their life they were willing to pick up a gun and tell you, "Sleep well tonight, I'm watching over you and I'll see that no harm comes to you or your family." Chances are that person didn't know you either but was willing to die to see that you lived in peace and this country continued on. This goes not only for the military but for those in law enforcement. I can remember being told over 30 years ago at the South Carolina Criminal Justice Academy, "Your primary responsibility is to protect those who can't protect themselves." Our firefighters and emergency medical personnel are in the trenches also and you need to make sure you know they are watching over you and if you need them they will be there. How many times does the general public even give a second thought to those on the front lines unless they need them. I know every man and woman in this country thought about them on 9/11 and the days shortly thereafter, but how soon life returns to normal and people forget and don't ever even say a simple "Thank You."

This will never happen with the PGR. They remember every day. I have never been involved with a greater group of men, women, and even children than with the PGR. In the dictionary under Patriot there should be a photo of the Patriot Guard Riders. These guys and gals are the embodiment of true patriotism. I belong to many great and charitable organizations, such as American Legion, American Legion Riders, Harley Owners Group, my church and a several others. I did eight years as a US Navy Corpsman and twenty-three years as a Police Officer, most of that time as a detective/investigator. I feel I have done a lot over my fifty-eight years on this earth but never have I done anything that makes my heart swell with pride as much as each time I stand the flag line, look over and see the complete and sincere honor, respect, and reverence on the faces of every person in that line as they proudly hold the American flag. To know that each and every one of them took time from their day, their work, their families and their many other obligations to be there. When the call came they were needed, everything was dropped and they started making plans working around anything else they might have had planned for that day. Not one person is wondering what else he, or she, could be doing. They are there because they want to be. They feel in their hearts and souls that they need to be. Frequently I'll pass, or be passed by, several bikes or a car or pickup with Patriot Guard stickers and I sit up taller in the seat knowing they are headed to or from a mission and that I'm not there but I am still very much a part of that. Each time I see them I wish I could turn this rig around and follow them and stand the line with them no matter where I am. We are one, there are no borders.

When I first joined the Patriot Guard I knew I would only be able to attend occasionally as I am an owner/driver of a small one truck company so I'm usually away from home and on the road somewhere when a mission is happening. Every mission I do make then makes me want to be at them all. If you can make every mission that is great with them. If you make every other one, that too is great. If you can only make one out of fifty they will never question it. They are glad to have you any time you can make it and will always welcome you with open arms, literally. There will be hand shakes and hugs from everyone. You will make many new friends and with any one of them you would be glad to share a foxhole if the need ever arose. When you ask a member, "Why do you do this?" there are as many responses as people. But the one thing you hear from each of them is, "To show my respect for what they did for us." It's never "me" but always "what they did for us." There are retired vets, Vietnam Vets, Veterans such as myself who never saw a day of war and non-veterans. There are blue collar workers, professionals, clergy, small business owners, unemployed and underemployed workers and everyone of them are there to show their honor for these fine men and women who stood for them. It's the one place you can see a retired cop and an outlaw biker standing side by side with one purpose in mind and that is to remember and honor.

The members of the family and friends are so proud you are there in their time of need. Just look at the letters of appreciation on the PGR website. You might want to wear those sunglasses as you read these. I remember at one funeral the 81 year old father of an EMT walked the entire flag line thanking each and every member for being there. It was our honor to be there but here he was thanking us. The PGR is not there for accolades, but out of sincere respect, honor, and patriotism.

The PGR is not just about funerals. It is family. Each member is treated with utmost respect no matter what walk of life you come from or what you do for a living. Politics are also left at home. The PGR does "Happy Missions" as they like to call them. They escort military personnel as they are leaving for deployments and  happy missions when a unit is returning to the States. They will be met at the airports and escorted in. These are some of the happiest moments you'll have and once again don't forget the sunglasses. It gets especially sunny inside an airport terminal at three in the morning and you're watching a family member welcoming their loved one home. If you were on the escort that took them to the airport to be deployed, you will feel absolutely wonderful to escort them, alive and well, back home. There are also meet and greets where the members can just spend time getting to know each other. If a mission comes up at the same time a meet and greet is supposed to happen the mission comes first as it should be and usually will be rescheduled.

As you probably have already read if you've visited their website, you don't have to be a veteran to be a member, and there are many who are not, and you don't have to ride a bike, you only have to respect and honor those who have served or are currently serving. The "cagers" as they are known are a much needed part of the mission as they are the ones to transport the flags and water. Our missions are not limited to military, but to all those who stand for, and protect us, including Law Enforcement, Firefighters and Emergency Medical Personnel.

If you are a new member you will be assigned a "mentor" who will walk you through each and every step. There is absolutely nothing hard about anything we do and you will be well taken care of by the mentors and ride captains. A primary concern of the PGR is safety and if you ride a bike make sure your mentor or the ride captain knows if you've never ridden in groups as that is a tremendous safety aspect. You will under no circumstances be turned away, they will only make sure that you are given instruction and placed with an experienced group rider to show you the safest ways to do things.

There are several very good items on youtube that will help the uninitiated to understand better what the PGR is all about and it you haven't seen them I have listed two of my favorites here:




I know I've gone on and on but I can't say enough about this wonderful group. If I can be of any help please feel free to email me at tdtaylor83@aol.com and include PGR in the subject line. I don't have all the answers but I bet I know the people that do and can put you in contact with them.

I will close up shop for tonight with one last thought for my brothers and sisters:

LISTEN FOR THE RUMBLE!
THE SOUTH CAROLINA PATRIOT GUARD RIDERS ARE IN TOWN!

Fast and Furious: Obama's Watergate?

Remember Watergate? I do. There are still a quite a few of us around that remember the two things headlining the nightly news in the early 70's. Vietnam and Watergate. Both were extremely divisive and both were tearing the country apart at the seams.

Ask anyone what they know about President Richard Millhouse Nixon and you'll usually get a one word response: Watergate.

There was a whole lot more to his presidency than Watergate. Nixon opened relations with China. He escalated, then ended, our involvement in Vietnam. He reaffirmed agreements with the Soviet Union over Cuba, started the Environmental Protection Agency and Occupational Safety and Health Administration, oversaw the first large scale integration of public schools and endorsed the Equal Rights Amendment (although it was never ratified by the requisite 38 states). Whether you're pro or con on these things doesn't matter, they are still a part of his legacy. Very few people remember his responsibility for any of these and I don't believe he is given credit for them with today's students but they do credit him for, and remember, Watergate.

Did Nixon break into the Watergate complex? Of course not. Watergate wasn't so much about the actual break in as it was about the scandal of the President of the United States attempting to cover up the fact that he knew about it and so did high level members of his cabinet and others close to him.

Apparently we now have another President trying to cover up. Who knew about Operation Fast and Furious and when did they know have been among questions the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform have been asking. Some of the President's supporters are already crying foul and saying this isn't the same thing. Well guess what, I agree with you. This isn't the same. Innocent people didn't die because of Watergate but they have, and still are, dying because of "Fast and Furious."

For the few who may not be familiar with Operation Fast and Furious it was an undercover investigation which began in late 2009 with a teleconference between Deputy Attorney General David Ogden, Assistant Attorney General Lanny Breuer, ATF Director Kenneth Melson, DEA Administrator Michele Leonhart, and Director of the FBI Robert Mueller. This conference also involved several prosecutors from the Southwest. It was an attempt to track guns to kingpins of the Mexican drug cartels. It was to be run by the ATF's Phoenix office. They were going to attempt to identify and eliminate arms trafficking networks instead of just street level, or low level, buyers. Some of the key players were supposedly street racers operating from an auto repair shop, thus the name from the movie Fast and Furious.

I was a Law Enforcement Officer for 23 years. Most of that time as an investigator/detective. For several of those years I served in an undercover capacity working narcotics and gun running cases. Every Law Enforcement Agency is there to "Serve and Protect." You are there to protect and never, ever, put the public at risk. Never allow guns or drugs to get away from you. Occasionally we had to do a "walking" sting where the guns or drugs were allowed to leave my possession for a short time but they were always kept under strict surveillance and tracking. I worked cases in conjunction with the ATF and and the agents I worked with never would have allowed guns to disappear. Once we tracked them to their final destination we immediately made arrests and reclaimed them. You NEVER allow guns or drugs to get onto the streets. If it looked as if we would lose the item the operation was immediately shut down and the weapons or drugs were taken back into our possession. If these items were lost during an operation in which I was involved I would have been fired on the spot, and should have been. There are no excuses.

Therein lies the problem with Operation Fast and Furious. There was no attempt at interdiction of the weapons which were being purchased and transferred to the cartels in Mexico. They were allowed to "walk." In other words just let them go. Department of Justice and ATF policy have always required gun shipments to be intercepted. Apparently their thinking was that we'll just arrest who ever has the weapon in their possession when we see it again. This has to be one of the most ill advised operations in history. A rookie officer would have known this was just plain stupid. This wasn't just a few guns, over two thousand including the FN 57 which carries an armor piercing .224 caliber round, AK-47's, .50 caliber sniper rifles and assorted other rifles and pistols were allowed to get into the hands of Mexican drug runners. This was very controversial within the ATF as the agents knew people were going to die from the weapons they were letting walk. They had been through this type of gunrunning operation earlier where the guns were tracked, surveillance carried out, and arrests were made when they were handed off. During Fast and Furious the agents were not allowed to intercept the suspects and weapons. Two agents, Olinda Casa and John Dodson attempted to intervene and were stopped by their supervisors. Supervisor David Voth sent out an email in March 2010 in an attempt to quell the questions within the agency over Fast and Furious. http://www.cbsnews.com/htdocs/pdf/Grassley_2011_03_page14.pdf

Guns traced back to operation fast and furious started turning up quickly at crimes scenes on both sides of the border. One of the most notable was that of Border Agent Brian Terry. On December 14th, 2010 Terry and other agents were patrolling approximately 11 miles from the Mexican border in Arizona when they came across five illegal immigrants. A firefight occurred leaving Agent Terry dead on the desert floor. Two AK-47 type rifles were found at the scene and traced to operation fast and furious. After hearing of the murder Dodson and several other agents attempted to bring the operation to the attention of ATF Headquarters, ATF Chief Counsel, the Ethics office and even the Justice Department's Inspector General and didn't receive a response. Several then decided they had no alternative but to contact someone who may be able to stop this madness. I'm sure they knew this was probably a career breaker but morally felt they had no alternative. So they contacted Senator Chuck Grassley of Iowa who was the ranking member of the Senate Judiciary Committee and an investigation was started into Fast and Furious.

In January 2011 Senator Grassley sent two letters to Acting Director of the ATF. One requesting information into the operation and a second accusing the ATF of going after the whistleblowers. Congressman Darrell Issa began a congressional investigation as Chairman of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform and, as it should be, he has been like a pit bull and not backing down regardless of political pressures.

As has been the Obama administration's answer to everything that has gone wrong since they came into power, they gave the same answer to this debacle, "It's Bush's Fault." Sorry, not this time. The ATF did carry out a similar operation during 2006 and 2007. Only a few hundred guns were purchased and this was done with the knowledge and assistance of the Mexican government. It was agreed that the Mexican officials would intercept the weapons once they crossed the border and the suspects would be arrested. Surveillance was done and tracking devices placed on the weapons. Once the criminals learned of the tracking devices they figured out how to disable them. When the firearms started disappearing the operation was shut down and the files closed with the notation, "Never Again." During Fast and Furious the Mexican government was never notified an operation was ongoing. There was never an attempt to arrest the suspects or retrieve the weapons on the Mexican side of the border. How could they when the US was conducting these operations without their knowledge?

The Attorney General, Eric Holder testified, under oath, to the House Judiciary Committee on February 3rd, 2011 stating that he had only heard about the operation  "for the first time over the last few weeks."  Documents were revealed that showed he had been sent briefings on the operation as early as July 2010. On June 7th Holder testified for the seventh time, still stating there were no "high level officials" with knowledge of Operation Fast and Furious. By this time several thousand pages of documents had been turned over to investigators. There are still approximately 1400 pages which have been subpoenaed and not turned over. Holder continued to refuse to turn over these documents and was threatened with a contempt citation. Early on June 20th President Obama invoked executive privilege over the documents after Holder had earlier sent a letter requesting Obama to do this.

If there is nothing to hide why did Holder only turn over documents in a piecemeal fashion? Why did he request the President invoke executive privilege? From everything I can find a President can only invoke executive privilege in a case he was personally involved in. So if he didn't know about Fast and Furious he can't make the claim. If he did know then he has some serious explaining to do.

It seems I still have more questions than answers. Why did the news media not start reporting on this from the beginning? They only made  mention of Fast and Furious after the threat of the contempt citation. Where are our Woodward and Bernstein? We need someone to really go after the truth. Without a strong and free press we may never know what really happened. I'm talking about a press that does not attempt to whitewash everything this president does.

Heads should roll over this. If it goes all the way to the top, then so be it. If it doesn't then why not turn over the documents? Either way the American Public needs the truth. If not for each one of us in this country, then at least for the people killed by these weapons which were placed into the hands of criminals by this administration.

Please get the facts and look at all sides of this argument. Don't just take my opinion on this. Get on the internet, look at reliable news sources from the TV or radio. I hope that everyone who reads this will share it  via Facebook, email, whatever it takes to get the population to stand up and shout. Call your elected representatives and beg them to get to the bottom of this. Our country cannot take much more scandal from our elected politicians. Thanks for reading.

Great Day. Beautiful Partner. Wonderful Ride. Amazing What You Can Find If You Just Look.

I ran a little harder than usual yesterday so I could try and get my load delivered to Graniteville. If I could pull it off it would allow me to get home to spend a little of father's day with Diane and make it to church with her last night. I did it, and actually had a few minutes to spare. That also was beneficial in finally giving me a lazy day with absolutely nothing on the "to do" list. I asked Diane if she was up for a motorcycle ride as she's never been more than about 25 miles at a time. The passenger seat on a Harley Sportster is not the most comfortable ride over a long distance. She wanted to get away for awhile and so did I.

Fill up time. 

We left with no destination in mind and no particular direction to go. We went to Kent's Corner in Graniteville and topped off the bike. It took every bit of $3.48.

Diane taking photos

Vaucluse Mills Pond

Diane wanted to go toward Vaucluse. Her mom and dad had lived there when they were first married, they are both buried there and, she still has relatives living in the area. So off we went. We traveled back down Bettis Academy Rd. and turned onto Old Vaucluse Rd. We have been here several times as Diane goes there frequently to take care of her mother and father's grave site and make sure the flowers are fresh. The ride is beautiful with high pines on each side but the road is in a terrible state of disrepair. The community sits in a deep valley and as you drop down the hill into the town it gives you a false sense of what is to come. As you cross the one-lane bridge into town the old Vaucluse Mills Pond is on your left. On the right is one of the many Graniteville Mills buildings which have been long vacated and are now dilapidated. The community echos the look of the mills. Some homes are vacant and boarded or have just been left and are falling apart. Almost all of them are old mill houses that were rented from the Mills by the workers when they were first built and then later they were sold. People working at the mills and living in the homes were given first option to buy them. The rents were low on the homes when they were owned by the mill but so was the pay. It was extremely hard work. I have family and friends who worked in the mills, including my wife who worked at the Hickman Mill in Graniteville for a short time right out of high school. The mills closing took a toll on the people living here, not only financially, but psychologically as well.

From there we followed SC 191 toward Graniteville. This is an amazing place to ride a motorcycle. It's only about 5 miles but the road twists and turns and there is a stream running alongside. We wanted to stop to take pictures but the traffic was backing up and I had to speed up since there are no pull offs.

As you pull into Graniteville the first thing you notice, once again, are the closed mills. They are everywhere. The mills here employed thousands of people in their heyday from all over the Central Savannah River Area. As the jobs were outsourced, the mills slowly closed. 

The mill closings were not the only problems this community has had to overcome. When I went to work for the Aiken County Sheriff's Office in early 1987 as a narcotics investigator it was the number one narcotics area in the county and probably within fifty miles. It was the epitome of the crack epidemic in the 80's. The people of this community were actually being held hostage in their own homes. It appeared to be an unsolvable problem. It took a concerted effort of the Graniteville community, and all law enforcement agencies in the county. We did it. We retook this community with the help of the citizens who were tired of being pushed around by a bunch of loser punks and began to push back. It took a lot of courage to face off against them and ID them to us but they did it and won.

Avondale Mills came in during the 90's and bought out what was left of Graniteville Mills allowing some of the people to remain employed. Then fate came crashing down again on January 6th, 2005. 

On that date a Norfolk Southern Railway train encountered an open switch causing it to run onto a siding containing a parked train. 16 cars derailed including the locomotive. One car was breached that contained chlorine gas. Nine people died, over five hundred were sent to hospitals, and more than fifty-four hundred citizens had to be evacuated. They had to overcome the heartbreak of losing friends, neighbors, and loved ones. Added to the tragedy Avondale Mills used this as an excuse to close the final mills and move out of town.

Train Derailment Memorial

Once again the people of this community picked themselves up, cleaned themselves off and pushed right back. The community is mostly made up of God fearing, honest, hard working people. These people want to work. They don't, and never have, wanted handouts. New industry began to locate here several years ago and continues to come in. Over the last several months the factories here are beginning to expand along with new factories and warehouses being built. The colleges in the area took on the challenge of retraining the workers and the county worked out incentives to lure new industry. I was so glad to see the way these people have pulled together and overcome so many obstacles that were thrown in their paths.

It was nice stopping there, walking around, looking at the town remembering how people can work together to overcome anything.

Horse Creek Valley Veterans Park

Next we rode through Horse Creek Valley seeing the progress being made there, especially around the Langley Pond area.

Then we stopped at the Horse Creek Valley Veterans Memorial Park. This is a beautiful park that was built from donations and anyone close should go and visit. It is on Hwy 421 in Burnettown.

We then continued into Augusta and had lunch at Bill's Family Restaurant on Peach Orchard Road. It was wonderful as usual. If anyone wants to have a good lunch for a reasonable price this is the place to stop. When I was a teenager over 40 years ago I would stop here for breakfast on Saturday mornings. I was 16 years old and thought I was cool going into a restaurant and sitting at the counter like the older guys. It still has the same ambiance as it did back then and the food is still great. Lunch including meat, 3 vegetables, bread and your drink for $7.50 is not bad at all.

After lunch we rode through my childhood neighborhood on the south side of Augusta. Next it was off to the Old South Augusta Lock and Dam. We parked and walked over the locks and out onto the catwalk. Diane said she had never been on them. I thought as many times as we had been there we had walked out there. We then left for the ride back home.

I loved the day. Diane and I had a wonderful day together and saw and relived some wonderful times from our past. We also learned that you don't have to spend a fortune going out of town on gas, food, motels and shows. Our total cost for the day was $18.48. There is so much to see right in your own back yard if you'll just take the time to look.

40 Years Away From the Church, But I'm Back

My last post was about politics and this week it'll be about religion. I know I'm treading on dangerous ground because those are two things guaranteed to get an argument started, if not an all out brawl when discussed in a crowd. Fact is, I didn't need to be in a crowd when I was growing up. All I had to do was sit, listen, and watch my own family when they started to discuss either one, especially religion.

On one hand was my Dad. He was what I called a "functioning drunk." He would work all day, but then stay out drinking and partying most of the night. Then there were the occasional binges where he would stay drunk for days on end but, he somehow ended up sobering up and heading back off to work. He was a new car salesman, and one heck of a salesman because when he sobered up his job was always waiting on him. I was watching him work his magic on a young couple one day when the dealership owner walked up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Boy, that man could sell ice to eskimos." One day at the dealership a few of us were talking about our beliefs when my Dad walked up. I asked him what he believed in. He smiled and said, "I believe there's a butt that fits every new car seat made and I believe in 100 proof JW Dant." He laughed and walked away. To him that pretty much said it all. He didn't have a lot of religion in him, or at least none that he talked about, but say the Lord's name in vain and he'd backhand you across the room.

On the other hand was my Mom. She was the daughter of a Church of God minister and evangelist, the Reverend "Happy Tom" Brooks. She didn't attend church a lot but she made sure that her children were there every Sunday, even if it was to simply put us on the church bus or drop us off at the church. We would go see my Grandfather preach occasionally in Greenwood at his home church, or if he was near Augusta preaching a revival she would take us to hear him. While Mom and us kids were in the church Dad would usually sit in the car drinking. Mom believed in God but I saw her start to question her faith and beliefs as she started approaching mid-life. She finally divorced my dad when I was about ten and I watched her as she drifted farther and farther away from her long held beliefs. This sure didn't help me because by then I was questioning my own faith and as I watched her I became even more disillusioned.

Then there was a silver lining. All I had to do to renew my faith was to spend time with my grandfather. He had always been my hero, the person I looked up to. I would go spend weeks during the summer with him and my grandmother. I loved them so much and they were the stability I didn't have in my life. Every evening we would gather in the living room where my grandfather would read a passage from the Bible and then we'd kneel and pray. He instilled a deep love of God in you and was an inspiration to everyone he met.

I continued in the church as I became a teenager, attending Southgate Baptist in Augusta, Ga where I had been going since I was a little kid. After I got my license I would drive myself to church instead of hanging out with my friends somewhere. Even though I was watching my mom drift away from religion I was starting to find my own way. When I was seventeen I was dating a young lady from my high school who was also a believer and we would attend services together. Usually she would go on Sunday mornings with her parents to their church and we attended my church together in the evenings. We were always dressed for church and never would go in jeans or anything loud, which was the norm in the early 70's. I had let my hair grow out although it was no where near my shoulders and it was always neat and clean. One Sunday night after church as we got in the car and were preparing to leave someone tapped on my window. I looked over and it was the good preacher, Reverend Kent. He told me, "We don't need your kind in this church." I was puzzled and asked him what he was talking about. He said, "Long haired, dope smoking hippies," and he turned and walked off. The good Reverend, calling me names without even really knowing me. I had never and, by the way, have never, smoked dope. Sure my hair was a little long, but like I said it wasn't even down to my shoulders. I was not a happy camper. I called him a hypocrite and drove off.

The Long Haired Hippie

Reverend Kent had been my preacher since I was a young child  and a he had demeaned and embarrassed me in front of someone I cared about and it cut me to the core. This really made me think and I thought about it for a long time. Maybe mom was right to leave her beliefs behind. I would not go back to church after that incident and shortly after that started to go downhill fast. The church had been a calming influence on me and since it wasn't there I began staying out late, skipping school and even work. My girlfriend broke up with me, partly because of the way I had started acting and treating her and partly because of the fact that I refused to step into another church although she tried. I never spoke of that incident to my grandfather because I didn't want to hurt him and I knew what it would do to him if he knew I had walked away from the church. He died a few years after that thinking I was still in the church and I was glad he never knew.

About eleven years after that incident I still hadn't stepped foot inside another church other than for my grandfathers funeral and a couple of other special occasions I felt obligated to attend. I was working as a Detective with the Greenwood Police Department and working part time at the Chrysler dealer as a salesman with my father. One afternoon my dad called me back to his office and there was another man sitting in there with him. He asked me, "Do you remember this man, he's your old preacher, Dr. Kent." I told Kent that I definitely remembered him and also told him that he was the reason I had never been inside another church. I reminded him of the incident that night and you could see the blood drain out of his face as he remembered. This time I was able to turn and walk away.

Over the years I've mellowed and I knew in my heart that I still believed in God, even if some of his messengers were hypocritical. My wife and I tried going to several different churches in recent years but something was always missing. It seemed as if everyone was looking at you, judging. I felt like I was under a microscope. Was my car nice enough? Was I dressed right? Then there was the constant dissention within the churches, people talking about other people in the church. It was just reinforcing my belief that I was better off without a church. God knows I believe and if the churches are like that I'd be better off to only worship in my home. I'm sure it all stemed from the incident at Southgate. Still I still felt like something was missing in my life. My wife was feeling the same thing.

One night I was sitting out in the middle of nowhere in my truck and just messing with the computer and looking at Facebook when there was a mention of Faith Riders Fellowship Church in Aiken. I had heard of them before but hadn't really given it much thought. This night I was bored so I started looking at anything I could find about the church. The more I found out the more I liked and I thought, "What the heck, worth a try." The next morning I called the wife and told her what I had found and asked if she wanted to give it a try. She agreed and since I was on my way home and would be there on Saturday we decided we would go that Sunday. We got there and saw the motorcycles under the porch and cars in the parking lot and I almost backed out thinking that maybe this wasn't quite what we were looking for. It was ironic that we had first really had our first "semi" date there and I kissed her the first time near where the entrance is now back when the place was a bar. I say it was curiosity, but more likely it was the hand of God, that got the better of us so in we walked in. From the minute we got to the door we were welcomed with handshakes and hugs and it felt truly sincere. Everyone made us feel at home, as if we had been members forever. I found out the Preacher, Reverend Jack Atkinson and I had worked together in the late 80's and early 90's at the Sheriff's Office in Aiken and I had also worked with the associate pastor JD Bledsoe at the Sheriff's Office. I had casually known some of the other members through the years and so did the wife. The sermon was fantastic and the music was wonderful. I left there on cloud nine. I didn't want to put any notions in Diane's head because I knew she would go along with me regardless of how she actually felt so I casually asked her what she thought after we left. She said she loved it. So did I. She asked if we were coming back that night and I told her I didn't think so since I had a lot to do to get ready to go back on the road the next day and I really didn't want to overdo it that quick. After we ate lunch I asked if she really wanted to go back and she said she did. I agreed and off we went to another great service. She has been there for every service since and anything else they need help with. I go every time I'm home.

Some people are former, retired, or current law enforcement officers and some are hard core bikers with records. There are all ages and races. No one looks down on anyone else and I have yet to hear any of the dissention or back-stabbing that I saw so frequently in other so called houses of God. I'm sure from time to time things aren't perfect here, but these people have learned to look inside a person to see what is there and work through their problems.

Diane and I have finally found that church home we have been looking for.

Politics

I wanted to use this article to say congratulations to my former partner and old friend Sonny Cox for his win in the Republican Party primary for Coroner of Greenwood County.  Also to my cousin Bob Fisher for his primary win in his bid for a seat on the County Council of Greenwood County.  I have known Bob since he was born and have known Sonny since we began working together in 1980 at the Greenwood Police Department on uniform patrol. We were transferred to the Detective Division within a couple of months of each other and being the "new guys" we worked together to help each other.  I know both as men of deep faith. I know their honesty and hard work ethic. They both see what needs to be done and go all out until the job is completed. I know they will both work hard to improve the lives and conditions of those who live in Greenwood County. I wish both of them the best and know the citizens of Greenwood County will not go wrong by putting them into their respective offices. Again congratulations to both.

And now on to my political aspirations. I have none. Don't get me wrong, I have thought about it from time to time, going to the extent of meeting with supporters and financial backers this year in a possible bid for the Sheriff's office in my home of Edgefield County. The current Sheriff, Adell Dobey, had not announced if he would seek reelection and rumors were that he would not. My condition for running was that I would not run against him. Why attempt to remove a man, who in my opinion, is doing a good job and working hard to bring the Sheriff's Office into the 21st century? One of the backers also had backed the Sheriff in each of his campaigns and picked up the phone and called him.  He stated that he was running, and would be announcing within the following two weeks. End of meeting. Could I have made a difference? No doubt, but the man in the office had been making positive strides since being elected and has done an excellent job with an underfunded and understaffed department. Why divide the citizens when most are supportive of our local law enforcement?

Where did my interest in politics come from? I guess I can trace it back to being a teenager about 40 years ago. I was working in downtown Augusta and was sent to the old Post Office to pick up a package. When I got there a political candidate was giving a speech. All the fanfare amazed me. The flags, music, hundreds of people. I couldn't get close but was told it was George McGovern, Democratic Presidential candidate in 1972. He didn't fair well in his bid for the office but regardless of the candidate I became an instant fan of politics, not having a personal interest in running for public office, but the way public policy was made and the persons responsible for doing this. What are the machinations of politics?

Growing up in the 60's and early 70's I saw people were very passionate in their beliefs as evidenced by sit-ins, protests, and clashes with police over their politics. Anyone living in that era can't forget the Democratic National Convention in 1968. People were either ultra conservative or ultra liberal.  There seemed to be no middle ground. I had friends on both sides of the political spectrum and I began to question my beliefs. Where did I stand? I listened to both sides and saw that each had certain ideas that I could, and did, believe in. Since then I have considered myself a liberal conservative. In other words I lean more toward conservative policies and policy makers but I still believe in certain liberal ideals.  As far as who gets my vote, it depends on the person, not their party.  I do tend to vote more along Republican lines but in certain cases vote for the Democratic candidate.  I don't just pull the lever for the full republican party. The Sheriff I was talking about earlier is a Democrat, I would have run as a Republican.  He will get my vote.  I believe if everyone would look at the person, where they stand, what they will do, and have done, for their constituents and what have they done in the past, this would be a lot better country.

Do your homework. Look and listen to each candidate. Look behind the media spin and check what both sides are saying about this candidate.  Then just use your God given common sense and truly make your choice from what your brain and heart are saying.

Until we meet again these have just been my ramblings as I cruise along in the slow lane watching this great nation pass by through my windshield.

Memorial Day

Today is Sunday, May 27th, 2012, Memorial Day weekend. Tomorrow is Memorial Day. This weekend means different things to different people. Most people are with family and friends this weekend, either vacationing, relaxing at the lake or beach, or having a barbeque at home. My main attraction today, it's race day. The Indianapolis 500 will be run today followed by the Charlotte 600 tonight. I turn on the big screen and seldom move from about noon until whenever. I can do the cook-out thing Monday.

Not this year. This Memorial Day weekend is different. I'm not going to get to do any of the things I usually do. I'm sitting in my truck at the Schneider Operations Center in Indianapolis, Indiana (about 25 miles from the racetrack). I was sitting here lonely and alone, feeling sorry for myself at having to be away from home on the holiday. I was pouting and thinking about what I could be doing this weekend when the words really sunk in, "Memorial Day." As I sat thinking I got even more down, depressed, and mad. Mad, not at being alone and away from home, but mad at myself for thinking only about me. I've got a loving family at home and they're only a phone call away. This weekend is not about me and not being able to be at home. It's about hundreds of thousands of men and women. It's about those who never got to spend another Memorial Day, or any other day, at home because they gave the ultimate sacrifice to protect those at home and give us the freedom and liberty to celebrate the way we want every day.

From the the Revolutionary War, and every decade since, America's men and women have been involved in some type of military operation putting themselves in harms way to protect us. This weekend is about those who never came home. I feel bad that I forgot about them while I wallowed in my own self-pity.

When I was growing up no one ever talked about the meaning of Memorial Day. I knew it was a holiday. I knew we had either just gotten out of school for summer vacation or we would be getting out the following week and that's really what mattered to me. I don't ever remember being taught about Memorial Day in school and was never taught what it meant by my family even though my father served in the US Army Air Corps and I have two brothers who both served in the Navy. I grew up in a military town. I just don't remember anyone saying, "This is what Memorial Day is about."

When did I learn what it meant? May 29th,1972, Memorial Day, forty years ago. It's become more meaningful each and every year. On March 9th, 1972 I enlisted in the United States Navy. On May 19th, 1972 I graduated from Basic Training and returned home for leave, not having to report for Hospital Corps School until June 5th. That would give me the Memorial Day weekend at home before leaving and all my friends would be out of school for the weekend. We had a good time on Saturday and Sunday and on Monday I went to Greenwood, SC to visit my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who lived there.  I was real close to them and we always had a blast together. I have an aunt who is only a couple of years older than me and we always had a special relationship. We could talk about anything and everything. She hadn't wanted me to join the service but I could tell that she was still proud of me for doing what I thought was right. She had gotten married after school and her husband had been drafted and sent to Vietnam.  He was one of the lucky ones and came home. She learned about the military, war, and men dying, the hard way, through letters back and forth from Vietnam, and watching the horrors of war play out in front of us for the first time on television. We all had a lot of fun that day and then ate a dinner that my grandmother had prepared.  It was just a great day all around and my idea of a perfect holiday weekend.

After dinner went walking and just talked. Somewhere in the middle of our walk I remembered seeing the flags at half-mast while I was driving up there and asked her, "Who died?" She asked what I was talking about and I explained seeing the flags and knew they only flew at half mast for a president or dignitary that had died. "You really don't know?" she asked. I just looked dumbfounded at her. She told me, "thousands of people" and it's probably one of the few times I've ever seen her serious about anything as she is always full of life and living. I thought she would cry as she told me she couldn't believe I had joined the Navy and still didn't know why we had Memorial day. She told me from a military wife's perspective what it had meant to her.  Then it was my turn to try to hold back the tears. I couldn't recall the entire conversation if I tried. That was 40 years ago tomorrow, but suffice it to say I came away with a new outlook on Memorial Day weekend.  Each year, as I get older, my respect and admiration for those who served gets stronger. In my heart every day is Memorial Day, and not only for those who didn't return, but those who served and gave of their time and energy and all those still serving.

I can only hope that each person living in this country will take just a few minutes out of their busy weekend to really think about what this day means. Remember those who gave their lives selflessly to protect those freedoms that you are enjoying this weekend and every weekend. Let's not forget those who are away from home this weekend still protecting you. Whether it's a sailor or marine on a landing boat sitting off the coast of Iran, a soldier sitting in an office in Germany, or an airman working on a FA-18 jet engine at Shaw Air Force Base, each is protecting you and your family this weekend.

Please don't forget those left behind. Say a prayer for the mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children, and other family members and friends who can only grieve on this day without their loved ones. This weekend is also very much about them.

How did I become so self centered and shallow that I forget what this day really means? Hopefully never again.

I can't very well complain about sitting in a truck in Indiana now can I?

It Didn't Take a Village, It Took a Cop

Car crashes, shootings, stabbings, beatings, child abuse, elderly abuse, domestic violence, suicides, drug overdoses. You name it, I've seen it. I've investigated it and I have gotten to know the victims and families. I've held people in my arms who were dying and I've held mothers, wives, children, even husbands and fathers as they've watched their loved ones die. As a Law Enforcement Officer you see it all. It seems you see a lot more bad than good.  You become hardened and cynical. Not because you want to, but as a survival tool. Most of the time you don't even realize it's happening. You learn to keep emotions inside and never let the world see you hurt. You try to keep your sanity while you watch the insanity all around you. You try to protect those you love from seeing through your eyes the violence you see almost daily by eating it. Eventually, it eats you.

On Wednesday morning I was notified by the Patriot Guard Riders about the Georgia Law Enforcement Memorial Wall coming to Augusta for the unveiling of the name of Deputy James "JD" Paugh on the wall. I knew I wanted to attend. JD was a motor officer with the Richmond County Sheriff's Office, Unit T-31. I didn't know JD well but we had met through our mutual passion for motorcycles and had rode together on a few Charity rides and at different Harley-Davidson events. Something inside me was telling me I had to be there.

My wife and I arrived early and just sat in the parking lot for awhile talking. There was a wave of emotions that washed over me as I watched officers from all over pull in. I'm strong. I can hide my emotions, except from my wife. She sees right through me. Without saying a word she squeezed my hand and gave me a look that said, "I understand," although I knew she really couldn't.

I've had friends die in the line of duty before, but something was different about this. It may have been the way he died. He didn't, and couldn't imagine, what he was riding into. He was off duty, heading home, just stopping to help someone he felt was in need. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something was definitely different and I felt drawn to this event. (You can read the article here: www.chronicle.augusta.com/news/crime-courts/2011-10-23/strength-fort-gordon-soldier-killed-richmond-county-deputy-himself-0)  Something was overpowering and different.

The ceremony was short but respectful. After it was over I went to get a closer look at the travelling Memorial and the name emblazoned there. Once again the emotions tried to show through, once again I was able to keep it to myself. I walked over and touched the name on the wall and bid a farewell to JD one last time.

I then took a few steps back and looked at the rest of the wall and the names on it. I couldn't help but wonder what took each one from us. I couldn't help but think of the families, wives, husbands, mothers, fathers and children who were left behind. How were they coping? I did feel as if each one were smiling down and wanting everyone to know they were proud of the job they did and I'm sure they all loved doing the job. I'm sure they each stood tall while protecting those who had put their trust in them and we were all able to rest better at night knowing they were watching over us as we slept.

As I looked at the wall one name suddenly jumped out at me. It grabbed me and for several seconds I was in a trance, just staring. The name was there. I knew when and how he died. He died serving the citizens of Richmond County, I knew he would never show it but with all his bluster I knew the heart inside this Deputy, I got the rare glimpse. In all my years as a Police Officer I never worked a day in my life with him in that Richmond County Patrol car, but I knew him.  He was my partner, at least in spirit. He never knew it but he was my mentor and partner, a man I trusted, respected, and looked up to. I tried my best to show the same compassion while I was in Law Enforcement that he did. He never knew how much he taught me about police work without ever teaching me a thing. I stepped back and got my phone to take a quick photo of the name on the wall. As I took the picture a woman stepped up behind me and asked who's name I was photographing, as this one was away from JD's name. I couldn't speak, I just pointed. She introduced herself and said that her and her husband maintained the wall and it stayed in their yard when they weren't travelling with it. She asked if I was related to him and when I said I wasn't she asked if I would tell her how I knew him. Through the tears I was trying to hold back I was able to choke out the following about my life and that of Sgt John L. Francisco Sr. crossing at an early age.

When I was a teenager I had the "Need for Speed." It seemed every where I went I was wide open, whether in a car or on a motorcycle. This got me in quite a few brushes with the law. The first night I met Fransisco, I didn't really get to meet him at all, thank the Lord. I was headed south on Hwy 56 in front of T's. The road was a two lane then and they had just begun construction to make it a four lane highway.  As I said I was travelling south, quickly. I don't know how fast I was going but I was well over the speed limit.  I saw the Patrol Car as I passed it headed in the opposite direction and could see the smoke pouring off the tires as he did a 180 to come after me. I didn't need anymore trouble so I stood on the gas. I knew the area well and had a good lead so I was able to take a few side roads and sneak back home without him catching me. I left the car sitting for a few days and when no one came to the house looking for me I figured I could thank my lucky stars. A few weeks later I was involved in a minor accident in the Butler High School parking lot after school let out. I was showing off to the two girls with me when a car backed out of a parking spot into the drive. I hit it. Thank goodness no one was hurt but there was a lot of damage to both cars. I had someone call the police and this was the first time I met Franscisco face to face. He answered the call.  As soon as he stepped out of the car he looked at me and said, "Well Taylor, I finally got you where you can't run."  He then turned to the girl who's car I had hit and asked for her license and registration and I gave him mine.  He told me, "That car'll run." I told him that it was really not too fast and he asked if I remembered outrunning him on 56 a few weeks earlier. How did he know who I was and how did he even get a good look at the car as fast and we passed each other that night? I told him that he must be mistaken, wasn't me. He told me to have a seat in the back of his patrol car. He shut the door and went about his work of doing the wreck report. All I could think sitting there was that I was on the way to jail. Once he was finished he talked to the young lady for a minute and told her she could go. He then came over to me. He opened the door and had me step out. He said that he couldn't "prove" it was me that ran from him but knew that it was. He went on to explain that since the young lady backed out in front of me the accident would be shown as her being at fault. I started to feel better, then he dropped the hammer. He told me that he would be watching me and if I "so much as spit on the sidewalk" he would put me under the jail. He didn't say another word and just drove off leaving me standing there in the rain. The next day I borrowed a friends motorcycle to go to the gas station where I worked to get some jumper cables and try to get my car running again. I got them and just threw them over the gas tank and took off for home. I was coming down Lumpkin Rd. from 56 and about a hundred yards from 56 there was a railroad crossing with a stop sign. No one ever stopped at that sign, including me. The tracks sit about a foot higher than the road and it made a nice little ramp for a motorcycle and I went over it, as the kids say now, "Catching some good air." When I hit the ground I looked over and there was a county patrol car sitting between two buildings watching the stop sign. I saw the red light on the roof come on and all I could think about was Fransisco's warning the previous day. I was sure he had told everyone to watch for me and I couldn't take a chance. I kept my hand wide open on the throttle and down the road I went. A patrol car shouldn't be able to catch a good rider on a bike. A GOOD rider. There was a big difference between me and a good rider. I was more cocky than experienced. I turned across a yard off Lumpkin Rd where the branch library sits now and headed toward the rear of Butler High School. There were no fences like there are today and I had a clean shot. A quick look over my shoulder and I couldn't even see the patrol car. Too bad I was so busy looking for the car chasing me and not spending enough time watching what might be ahead. As I came out from behind the school stadium near Peach Orchard Rd and there was a deputy with a shotgun glaring at me. I don't think I ever touched the handle bars. I hit the brakes and put my hands way over my head stalling the bike. Going to jail is one thing, getting shot is a whole new story. As I kicked the kickstand down and leaned the bike onto it (Again without ever lowering my hands) the other patrol car pulled up and out stepped Franscisco with a grin a mile wide. I didn't have much butt to start with and by the time he finished chewing there wasn't anything left. I was only 17 and he said he wasn't going to take me to jail but I would pay dearly. He wrote me charges for 1) Destruction of private property 2) Destruction of public property 3) No motorcycle helmet 4) Running a stop sign and 5) Eluding and evading.  Yep, he nailed me. Then to top it all off called my mom to bring someone to pick up the bike and he allowed her to take me home.

I called my Dad the next morning to try and borrow the money to pay the tickets. He said he knew the Sheriff and would see it he could help. He called me back a little later and told me that I had an appointment with the Sheriff at two o'clock that afternoon. He also told me he would meet me in the lobby about 15 minutes early and to dress nice and "Get a damn haircut." I was what was considered one of "them there damn hippies," since I had let my hair grow out.

I went straight to the barber shop, got a haircut, and dressed in the nicest casual clothes I had. The first thing the Sheriff said when he met me and we shook hands was, "Well, you look like a clean cut young man. Not like one of them damn hippies running all over the place." He talked to me awhile and told me to pay the $15 no helmet ticket and he would see the others weren't prosecuted if I didn't get in any more trouble within a year. Well for the next year I did everything I could to stay out of the eyes of the police. John would still stop me when he saw me and harass me a little. He did tell me that he had agreed with the Sheriff to drop the charges. Each time he would tell me that I was too good a kid and had too much going for me to keep living the way I was. He helped us take our drag racing off the streets. I started doing my drag racing at Windsor Spring or Jackson and my motorcycle riding off roads in the woods or on sanctioned tracks.

Shortly after I turned 18 I dropped out of High School and joined the Navy. I bought a new 1972 Nova SS after boot camp. After training as a Hospital Corpsman I was transferred to Beaufort, SC Naval Hospital. I was only 120 miles from home so every weekend I was off I was back in town and the old ways started creeping back in. I was making extra spending money street racing. And, as can be imagined, John Francisco had not forgotten who I was. Occasionally he would see me he'd pull me over. He'd ask me  "Where are we racing tonight" or other questions about the things somehow he knew I was up too. Somehow though his demeanor was changing with me. He would sometimes he would let his guard down and smile and it seemed he was also becoming a friend. He continued telling me that I needed to turn my life around. One night he stopped me on the road behind Bush Field as I was headed toward the Lock and Dam. He started toward the car and noticed a girl with me and laughed. He said he knew what I was going down there for and it wasn't going to happen in his zone. He then laughed and told me to go to the old race track. Nobody would come out there bothering us. One night he was off duty and on his way home when I ran into him at a gas station. I paid for my gas and was getting a coke. He was behind me and told the clerk, "I got that." He bought one for himself and we walked out front where we sat on the front of my Nova and talked for a long time. He seemed truly interested in my life in the Navy and what I was doing. I had gotten married and had orders to train with the Marines before shipping out to Vietnam as a combat corpsman. He told me that night that he was proud of me and what I had accomplished. That alone kind of knocked my socks off and then capped it off by telling me that I should put the energy I have into working in Police work and that I'd make a fine cop when I got out of the Navy. It shook me because that had been a dream of mine as a kid but I felt by dropping out of school, and the trouble I had been in, I'd never be allowed into a Police Department to visit, much less work. He saw the shocked look on my face and I'll never forget he just told me, "Just think, you can turn that light on and run up the road as fast as you want to go and nobody will bother you." I asked him about school and my past with the Law and he told me that my few tickets wouldn't stop me as long as I didn't get into any more trouble and to get my GED as soon as I could and I would have no trouble getting accepted. He said if I would follow up on it he would personally recommend me to the Sheriff. He then told me he needed to be getting home and to think about what he said, they they could really use me when my time was up in the Navy. He shook my hand and told me to "be careful over there".

My orders to Vietnam were cancelled during my training with the Marines and I continued to think about what we had talked about that night. I had made up my mind that if someone could have that much confidence in me then maybe I should have it in myself. I never had another negative run in with the law. Although it wasn't with the Richmond County Sheriff's Department I was able to spend more than 23 years as a police officer. I never had the opportunity to tell John what a difference he had made in my life.

I was a Police Detective with the Greenwood, SC Police Department on August 2nd, 1982 and had come home to eat when my brother called me and told me I needed to sit down, he had to tell me something. He then told me that John Franscisco had been killed answering a domestic dispute. We all know the dangers but John was larger than life to me. How could someone get to him? I knew if it could happen to him, it could happen to anyone, including me.

I was only able to tell the lady at the wall the highlights of how Sgt John Francisco changed a lost kid. It was so hard to talk through the emotions and tears that I could no longer restrain as I recalled the details of our paths crossing over just a few short years and what a perfect example he was as an Officer.

When Diane and I pulled into this parking lot I immediately knew there was something different about this. Something brought me here and made me remember a life changed by the stern kindness of one man. It has been a long time since something has had such a profound effect on me as this day has. I'm glad that hand from above guided me here and wouldn't let anything get in my way or stop me from being at this location at this moment.

From everything I have heard about JD Paugh I believe him to have been very much like Francisco and I want to say to all my brothers and sisters in Law Enforcement please be careful and learn from JD and John. With that badge, not only are you carrying a responsibility to stay as safe as possible for those who love and care for you but, keep in mind that the next kid you have contact with might have a hidden desire to be just like you. Make them want to be like you and not like the thugs they see on the street. If you can save that one kid you will always have someone to carry on your work and keep this country and it's citizens safe.

To JD and John, you both left this world way to early but you did leave it in a lot better shape than you found it. You each made an indelible mark on everyone you met. Love you brothers. Rest In Peace.