Retiring

My father taught me that the secret to success was hard work. He stressed that giving my best effort for a full shift would bring good reviews and upward movement. I listened to him, eventually.

I had a high school job pumping gas and doing minor mechanical repair jobs, towing and snow plowing for a German immigrant named Werner. Werner was fair and I received regular small pay raises with my crew mates Frank and Ben. I was by no means a workaholic as I held the station record of piling quarters on my forearm and then catching them all by snapping my arm down, I think it was six dollars (24 Quarters).

While I was attending college my mother encouraged me to apply for a job, where she worked, during my summer break. I was hired to work the nightshift in a Chicago factory. Nightshift didn’t agree with me, but I accepted the job. I was late a couple of times and was fired. That was the only job I was ever fired from. My mother was angry not only because it paid well and the nice checks would have gone a long way towards managing my college debt, but mostly because it was a company she worked for and one of the children she bragged about failed to perform up to the standard.

My next summer off my dad took the chance that I had learned something and suggested I apply for a job where he worked. Again I was hired for a night shift at a factory, this time instead of driving forklifts, which I had enjoyed, I would be inspecting circuit boards. I started with two other guys and we were added to a crew of eight. I had learned my lesson. One of the guys I started with and I were soon noticed by our supervisor. The veterans started giving us advice like, “If you do more boards than us they’ll expect you to do that all the time, then when you feel like taking it easy, you’ll have to keep your pace up or get reprimanded.” They urged us to slow down so they wouldn’t look bad. We didn’t. We were both promoted and were supervising the guys who had been there for years. I was proud of my promotion and happy to get a few extra bucks because I had only completed a couple of years of college and already had a large debt to pay.

I decided not to return to the four year college in Southern Illinois and worked for two years while taking a light class load at two different area colleges, living at home, playing softball with my friends and working back at the gas station and the factory. I was able to pay off my first two years of college and pay for the junior college I was attending. Going into my senior year I would only owe tuition on the half year I had completed at the local four year college.

I graduated with a journalism degree, but had difficulty finding a job. I went back to work at the same gas station. My brother Pat had bought the repair business from Werner and asked if I could help out before I went full time somewhere. I ended up staying with Pat for awhile. He hired two of my high school friends who were good mechanics and the four of us had a lot of fun, worked hard, and made decent money. He had an opportunity to move his family West and offered to sell the business to me. By this time my friends had moved on and I hired my own crew.

My business was successful but the corporation that owned the garage I leased decided to repurpose that location and I was told they would not renew my lease. I considered myself an adequate mechanic. I did not feel my skills were strong enough to merit buying my own location. I also realized that I did not love what I was doing as my friends and Pat did, to me it was just a job. I chose to look for my dream career and sell my mechanic equipment and tools.

I, eventually, found that law enforcement was a career that fulfilled and challenged me and went in that direction in 1985. My first 6+ years were spent working in corrections. I enjoyed it at first, but became depressed seeing many of the same faces come in, get released, and return. I wanted to deal with good people and catch offenders. I was hired for a patrol job in 1991.

I worked there for 29+ years. It was not all good. I was disappointed at being left high on the promotion list several times, twice I was left at #1 for several months before the list expired. As a Christian I chose to stay positive. I had fellow officers ask me how I could remain upbeat on days when things got really tough. My secret weapon was prayer and I used it often.

In my career I was assigned to perform evidence duties on train/pedestrian accidents, sexual assault and sexual abuse cases (one involving an elderly woman who was assaulted by her caregiver on Christmas Eve). I assisted on fire calls. I was the reporting officer on DOA’s, fatal accidents, suicides, homicides, financial abuse of the elderly and physical abuse of the elderly. I have assisted citizens during thunderstorms, tornadoes, blizzards and floods. I have walked the RR Tracks on sunny summer days and bitter cold days looking for remains of subjects who stepped in front of speeding commuter trains. I, and all police officers, have done the jobs many people do not want to do. I have been proud to do it and I have been rewarded for it with citizen acknowledgement, awards and decent pay.

I made the initial arrest that lead to the largest case in Secretary of State of Illinois Police history. I was awarded for entering a smoke filled apartment building to evacuate residents. I took two butcher knives from a man in a domestic situation. On more than one occasion I stayed looking for an offender after everyone else had left, and caught him. Once it was a suspect wanted for armed robberies in two neighboring communities. I was nominated for the top Elderly Service Investigator of the year in the State of Illinois Award and finished in the top ten.

My department threw me the retirement party I requested. They asked if I wanted a ceremony at a local restaurant or bar, the normal route, and I declined. It didn’t seem to be the appropriate path for me. I asked if we could just invite my family for cake (not doughnuts) and coffee and let anyone who was able to, and wanted to, stop by. It was very informal. I was pleased that in this time of Covid concern, about 60 people showed up. A few spoke. It was very understated and didn’t create a head ache the next day.

Now it’s over.

It’s a hard transition from working a tough job and taking a lot of overtime to waking up without an alarm clock, but it’s a good one. I will probably look for a job in a few weeks, but right now I’m enjoying this “no alarm clock” thing. Pretty cool! Or should I say groovy since I’m a boomer?

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