Breaker! Breaker!

 

Citizens band radios. The CB. They were the cell phones of the 70's. You could talk to your friends all over the place with no monthly bill! Just install one under the dash of your car, add an antenae, and BAM! You were on the air! 

CBers had their own language back then. Everyone was your "good buddy" and "10-4" was not fourteen and "3's and 8's" meant "have a great day!" You never said "is ... on air." You said "You got your ears on?" Ahhh the life we lived in the 70's! 

In our family we had several cars and therefore several radios. In addition, I owned a Navaho base station from a mystical place called "Radio Shack" where you could buy all types of radio equipment! Mom ("Cactus Flower") had one in her car, which surprised me to no end, because she never struck me as the type person who would talk on the cb. I believe she had it to keep track of me and my brother ("Card King"). I was known across the airwaves as "Saddle Tramp". I have no idea how I came up with that handle. That's what you called your self on air. Kinda like a vocalized avitar or user name.

We spent our nights breaking 1-9 and checking to see who had their ears on. We talked to each other while the world listened in. There was a group of us in our little town. Red Rider, Green Machine, Baby Blue Eyes. (We were nothing if not "colorful"!) Card King, Little Wet Back, and Little Biscuit Burner, Chocolate Chip... and me. There were many more but time and chance, as it does with all men according to the bible, has happened to me and I cannot recall the rest. 

Later in my life I discovered the joys of the "SSB", the single side band. This was a whole new world for me! I purchased a new ssb from a customer of mine who had "modified" it, shall we say. I installed it in the bobtail delivery truck I drove for a local propane company and suddenly going to work became great fun! I was a kid again! I talked to all 50 states and 8 foreign countries on that radio using the side band. I really enjoyed talking to the guys in Jamaica. There was a taxi driver there who had a big time set-up in his car. I talked to him quite a bit. 

But... as with all good things, the days of me talking on the cb and ssb had to end. It had been a blast. 

Then,,, I discovered HAM radio! 

The story goes on...

Chinese Food To Go...

 

As a member of the Jail Transport Team we could be required to go in a thousand different directions on any given day and there was no saying "no". The jobs had to be done and it was up to us to find a way to make it happen. Since the Judges had never had to deal with what we had to deal with they were not concerned with our scheduling, only that what they wanted happened on their terms and their schedule. 

We had had a particularly hectic month but somehow we made it happen. The Judges were happy (and clueless as to the hoops we jumped through to satisfy them). So...the sargent decided to take us all out to eat lunch at the Chinese buffett! A good time was had by all...for a while, anyway. About an hour after we returned to the jail I got a radio call that the Jail Administrator wanted to see me in his office. No problem. So I thought. 

When I entered the office I was greeted by him, the Sargent, and another officer. Odd, but not unheard of for several people to be there at times. "Have a seat," the Administrator said. I sat down a bit less at ease than I had been before. It seemed that an inmate had filed a grievence on me on some bogus charge that I had "threatened to kill him." They should have known it was a lie because if I threatened to kill him I would not have simply said "I'm going to kill you." Had I threatened his life it would have sounded more like, "I'm about to beat your sorry behind until you bleed profusly from the mouth and nose and your skull is mush!" That was not what he told them. The offender in question had sent the grievence directly to the brand new Chief Deputy, fresh off of retirement from an unrelated job and new to dealing with inmates. Apparently he didn't realize that they were not known for their honesty. 

It went beore the Internal Affairs officer to be checked out. Apparently not wanting to have a problem to deal with the Chief Deputy sided with the inmate and suspended me from Transport for six months minimum. It would be "revisited at that time." Normally I would have just appealed it to the Sherrif  but he was out on medical leave for a few months. I was caught in a bogus situation with no way out for the forseeable future.

I decided to take an unorthodox step. I wrote a letter of appeal to the Sherrif and mailed it to his home address. Time passed with no response. It was about a month and a half later that I was passing the office of the Sherrif and saw him sitting at his desk. I immediately knocked on his door and was invited in. We sat and talked for a few minutes and I finally brought the subject up of my being railroaded. The Sherrif was a huge proponent of loyalty to him and the department. I told him it was time I was shown some loyalty for ten years of dedicated service. 

The Sherrif pointed to the corner of his desk where I saw my personel file. 

"I've already been looking into it for you and I think it was simply an overreaction." Overreaction? That was an understatement! "Give me until I can speak with the Chief Deputy Monday and I'll see what we can do." This was a Thursday and I was going nuts already! I told him I would be waiting for his answer.

Tuesday of the following week I was working the control room when I saw the Admin and the Sargent at the exterior door. I allowed them in and waited. Soon the Sargent came to the control room door with a piece of paper in his hand. I popped the door and let him in. "I got you back in Transport!", he said. "Sign this paper and be back in the office tomorrow!" I was very very happy, to say the least. But from that day on it was a running joke that if someone (especially me!) was in any way out of line someone would say "Y'all don't wanna go eat Chinese food!" I've been retired nearly five years and the joke lives on. 

Whatever, Bobby...

 

It was a fairly normal Friday afternoon at the Hunt County Crossbar Hotel when the phone rang in the Transport department office. Of course it would be almost quitting time when we got the call. The decision had been made to transport a prisoner to the mental facility in Dallas. It was now our job to deal with the inmate... Did I mention it was quitting time on a Friday? 

Bobby was a frequent flyer with us and it came as no real shock, really, that he needed some professional help. He often got off his meds and ended up in our care. So, after counting heads of those still around, I was chosen to assist my Sargent in transporting Bobby on the 60 mile (one way) trip. I should mention that Bobby was really "out there" this time. He was talking quite a bit of trash and threatening staff. 

We cuffed, shackled, and belly-chained our guest and off we went in the Sherrif's van. I was driving so I needed the prisoner to sit and cooperate with us. He was thinking a little differently. He constantly got up and came to the front of the vehicle where a cage wall separated the back of the van from the officer's area. After telling him and warning him he better sit back on the seat and stop getting up, I hit my brakes sending him forward into the cage. I then hit the gas and he was jerked backward toward the afore mentioned seat. No more getting up after that. I might need to add here that the whole trip Bobby had been threatening to "kill" me! Practically every other sentence out of his mouth was "I'm gonna kill you Meeks! I'm gonna kill you!" I simply replied, "Whatever Bobby." Bobby and I normally got along great when he came to jail, but this time he was different. He was far more aggressive. He called my partner in the van every derogatory name he could think of. We quickly grew tired of the bull and decided to speed up the trip. I stood on it, to borrow a term from NASCAR. When I looked down we were doing 95 across the Lake Ray Hubbard bridge! We still had a ways to go before we could unload the lovely and talented Mr. Bobby, so I was glad we were in a marked vehicle. 

When we finally arrived at the mental facility we walked Bobby into the waiting area. Too many people were in the outter area so we made our way into a seperated room. 

The constant barrage of threats continued  with the new addition of "Are ya scared Meeks? Are ya scared?" until I had had enough. I turned to our prisoner and calmly said, "Bobby! You are chained down at the waist and feet! You can not free yourself! I have a gun, a taser, and a rather big partner who you have been insulting since we left Greenville! Why in the name of all thing holy would I be scared of you?!" No real effect on his thinking but I felt better.

Before long the hospital staff arrived and took him from us. I am sure he received a "cocktail shot" within minutes of that. I needed a drink... a strong drink. Coca Cola. Full strength. None of that caffine free crap. I was burned out for the night and it was already three hours after quitting time! 

The trip home was much easier than the trip over. I left the jail and put all the mess behind me. 

Monday came and as I entered the jail I saw Bobby sitting in an observation cell. I walked straight past him without a word. That is until I heard him call my name. I went around to the front of the cell and Bobby calmly appologized for the trouble he had caused and the way he had treated me and my prtner. I was glad to see he was back on his meds. I assured him there were no hard feelings and he sat down and drifted off to wherever it is he would go when he was like this. He was a perfect inmate for the duration. 

I've not seen Bobby since he left. It's been about 10 years. I hope he is OK.

Heads Need To Roll...

That's twice. Twice some left wing whacko has attempted to assassinate former President Donald Trump. Someone please tell me how a crazed gunman gets that close to a man who SHOULD HAVE been surrounded by highly trained secret service officers. Instead, here we are today, once again, talking about a botched attempt on President Trump's life! Who are these people in the secret service detail? Why did they not catch a man who almost assuredly had to walk across an open area carrying a rifle and a scope. Not suspicious at all, right? I say he walked across an open area because he was on a golf course. Not much more than sand traps and water hazards to hide behind. I hear the guy was shooting from a bush. Apparently a secret service agent noticed the barrel of a gun sticking out of the bush. Glad that guy was trained enough to know you ALWAYS keep your head on a swivel. I still can't get over how the guy got to that point, though.

I do not want this blog to be a bunch of political opinion (even though I am a fairly political person). But I had to blow off steam on this one. We still have 6 weeks left of the campaign, so anything is possible. I hope and pray that we do not see more of this type of news, but with the lefties and libs out there it is conceivable.

If I were President Trump I would hire my own protection since the clowns "protecting" him now seem completely inept at the job!

Boys And Girls...

 

I was born way back in the "dark ages," circa 1960. Back when science had settled the question of, "How many sexes/genders are there?" It was determined by people with much larger brains than I had that God, in His infinite widom, had created men and women. "Men and women created He them." No one challenged the science. No one gave it a second thought. There were two and only two.

If there was any question whatsoever it was easily answered by the good folks over at Schwinn Bicycle company. They made a product that was fool proof in determining whether you were a boy or a girl. It was a unique little product called a "bike" and it was absolutely fool proof in the matter. A girl's bike had a low area in front of the seat, whereas a boy's bike had a steel bar about two inches under the seat that extended from the seat to the frame of the afore mentioned apparatus. This bar, in it's genious design, could instantly bring forth the answer of which sex a child was, simply by being where it was designed to be, when a child slipped off the seat and landed astraddle of it! If the child said nothing and had no reaction, the child was a girl. If, however, the child fell face first to the pavement, writhing in agony, with tears streaming from their orbital sockets, they were a boy! Thus life as we knew it strode merrily along toward current times, not knowing that some idiot would someday question the birds and the bees and which one was which! 

Today we have people who want to tell our children that there are hundreds of sexes/genders. They want little boys and girls to question which sex they are. I can not for the life of me understand where these people are coming from! These morons actually believe the nonsense they are teaching and want to teach it in our schools! I say we buy them a boy's bike and let nature take it's course!

Never tackle a naked man...

It was an ordinary day working in the county jail. I was just finishing my paperwork on a project I had done for the Classification department. As I neared the book-in area I heard a bunch of commotion and figured some idiot was acting up. What happened next did not disappoint. 

The book-in area consisted of a caged room where the officers were stationed, two rubber padded cells for violent offenders, two observation rooms, and four holding cells. When I arrived in the area I observed several officers standing in front of an observation cell with an inmate who was clearly uninterested in being with them and what they had to say. Oh right...He was naked, or as we say in Texas..."Nekid". 

It was about this time he broke and ran...my way.

 I figured to sweep his legs out from under him when he reached my position. We then would tackle him and cuff him.  No problem, Right? Wrong. As I dropped to sweep his legs the guy decided it was time to drop me! He was hopped up on drugs so he didn't know his own strength. Well I found out about it! He hit me on the right side of my head full strength. I tell you folks, it was like I got hit with a Louisville Slugger! I went down hard. Later I was sent to the ER for concussion protocol. But back to our story...

Our naked friend continued down the main hall with nowhere to go and a short time left to get there. It was on this hall that two guards intercepted our hero and tackled him full force. By now I had come around a bit and I was hot! The Captain saw me head toward the scene on the hall and ordered a few other guards to keep me away from the guy. Like I said, I was hot! He had seen the guy clock me and decided to intervine and keep me from breaking my foot off in a most unfortunate place!

All's well that ends well, I suppose. Ol' "Naked And Afraid" was cuffed and stuffed back in his cell. He caught an additional charge of assault of a public servant and I got a couple hours pay for sitting in the emergency room. I made a vow that day to never tackle another naked inmate. Too many jokes at my expence and a major headache to show for my troubles. Im going to pretend they are horses and "Let 'em run!"