Showing posts with label weapons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weapons. Show all posts

Thursday, June 26, 2025

"Midnight Musings"

  

“We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would have us believe- some people are smarter than others, some people have more opportunity because they're born with it, some men make more money than others, some ladies make better cakes than others- some people are born gifted beyond the normal scope of men.
But there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal- there is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockefeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignorant man the equal of any college president. That institution, gentlemen, is a court.”
―Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
 
            I know the difficulty of law enforcement officers. They go, sometimes blindly, into situations that scream danger. However, my father took great pride that he only drew his gun once while on duty--at a distraught, suicidal man who was threatening to kill his entire family. Dad talked him "down" and the man got the help he needed. Dad taught me that his job required the ability to quickly assess a situation and to do his best to reduce the possibility of violence. This skill requires constant training and a mindset that the officer must deescalate a situation.
            I know, first hand, how families of officers feel and deal with the stress of this career. If the phone rang in the middle of the night, I'd bolt out of sleep and say, "Dad's been shot." That was my greatest fear.
            My father went into law enforcement late in his life. He was the oldest man to ever graduate from the sheriff's academy for his county! He honestly liked almost everyone he met, and the people under his care respected and trusted him. Because he maintained the same patrol for many years, he built a personal relationship with the residents and business owners in his area. Maybe our police force needs to revisit the importance of the "cop on the beat," the cop who lives in his or her neighborhood.
            Before he retired, Dad worked at the county jail and taught GED classes. He prided himself on having a high success rate of students getting this diploma. Over and over again, he stressed that many of the inmates with whom he worked came from poverty or had little education.
            Now I know that many, many of my students snubbed their noses at the opportunities offered to them through public education. They were, after all, children; and unfortunately children make mistakes that impact their entire lives. Most of them had parents who also started their pattern of poor decisions early in life. Generational problems weave themselves into the very tapestry of a family history and become the knotted threads that all of us must untangle. People who don’t have this type of family dynamic find it difficult to comprehend and easy to condemn.   
            We have fractures cracking through the structures of our society. What if these foundations fail? What happens if we hold distrust towards those who should protect and serve? What happens when we feel disenfranchised and disillusioned?
            I can spend the rest of my life listing the problems within our society, but solutions begin when we embrace differences and walk in another person’s shoes. We can talk about poverty, drug abuse, and violence in homes and on the streets. We can point our fingers and place blame on almost everyone and everything. But until we learn tolerance, we will continue to disintegrate into fragments.

"Protect and Serve" (1992) may be lost today. 




 
 Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman          
             
 
 

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

"Delete, Delete, Delete"

 

More deaths
More excuses
More status updates
More comments
         I’m right
                  You’re wrong
         It is the weapon
                  Fuck you
         Punching keys
         Angry
         Frustrated   
         Viciously vomiting vile

                           DELETE, DELETE, DELETE

         I understand
         Your fears bind your logic
         It is the weapon—and more
         Let’s find common ground
         Pausing at each letter
         Appeasing
         Calmer
         Weighing wary words

More deaths
More excuses
More status updates
More comments
         I’m right
                  You’re wrong
         Lives matter
                  Fuck you baby killer
         Gnashing teeth
         Pissed
         Wordless
         Shredding senseless shit

                           DELETE, DELETE, DELETE

         I understand
         Your reasoning rambles
         It is the weapon—and more
         Set aside the diversion—for another time
         Carefully staying focused
         Sensible
         Cogent
         Decisively data driven

More deaths
More excuses
More status updates
More comments
         I’m right
                  You’re wrong
         More guns? No way!
                  Fuck you BITCH!
         Away from keyboard
         Pulling hair
         Livid
         Annihilating aggravating assholes

                           DELETE, DELETE, DELETE





 Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 
         
        

                

Tuesday, October 15, 2024

“Walking Stick Mandate”

 
            Our cooler mornings translate into the luxury of a later morning walk on the weekends. That also means more people populate our popular city park than at my usual 8:30 AM trek. This Sunday, I stuck to my sidewalk route while my husband, with his faster pace and longer stride, opted to take a broader loop through the park. As I approached the corner of the park, I knew his steps had him about ten feet behind me. I wasn’t worried when two large, brown and white dogs swirled around a black pick-up truck that was stopped up ahead and to my left. At first, I thought the dogs belonged to the truck and had jumped from its bed, but it took me only a few seconds more to realize the man by the tuck was keeping them away from his cab where he’d placed his own dog for safety. Next to me, an SUV halted as the two dogs dashed from pouncing against the pick-up into the path of that car.
            In a heartbeat, the pair turned their attention to me, where I froze next to the SUV in hopes that they wouldn’t go around the car to get to me. That didn’t happen. In a vicious, snarling team, they encircled me with one of them snapping for my right hand, which I pulled away even as it connected with my finger.
            “Call 911!” I screamed. “They are biting me! Call 911!” A quick check let me know there wasn’t broken skin. The man at the pick-up truck waved his hands in the air. I felt my husband running up from behind me while I still yelled for someone to call for help.
            At that point, a little girl ran crying over and over again, “Don’t call 911!” She threw herself onto the ground sobbing the dogs’ names, but they ignored her as they ran circles around the intersection, their orange neon leashes whipping behind them. Some man, perhaps the girl’s father or grandfather, came out and began yelling at the girl and made absolutely no effort to gain control of the dogs.  Then, their tandem hunting brought them back to me where I knew they intended to strike me again.
            I grew as large as I could, threw my arms into the air to look more menacing, pitched my voice into a massively low growl, and commanded, “Go home! Go home! GO HOME!”
            I don’t know if I scared them, but by that time, my husband’s approach made us a two-on-two wall. The dogs disengaged from me, headed again toward the pick-up truck where that man waved his arms to force them into their own yard. As quickly as they appeared, they vanished behind closed doors.
            Trembling, I stood on the corner across the street and a few doors down from the house that the dogs went into. I waited for someone to come out to check on my wellbeing, and when no one did, I took down the house’s address. One corner of my mind, aware that many people shoot first, now in Texas, I stayed on the other side of the street with no intention of stepping on their property. As I noted the address into my phone, a witness came up to tell me that her husband had been bitten by those dogs last week. She begged me to file a report against them, which I did as soon as I walked home.
            I walked yesterday to Live Oak’s Animal Care and Control to follow-up on the incident. The address was in their files because an Australian Shepherd, with “the old soul of a wanderer” gets out occasionally and his owners have been cited for him straying. The attacking dogs were brown and white, short haired, hunting type dogs, with no resemblance to the dogs on record. An investigation started yesterday, and I know that the “control” part of our city ordinances will kick into hyper-drive.
            In the meantime, I’ve received instructions to carry a walking stick, something I never thought I’d need, along with me from now on.   


Heading out for today's walk!




Coipyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
                                                                                                           
             
                 

Tuesday, April 18, 2023

"DELETE, DELETE, DELETE"


More deaths
More excuses
More status updates
More comments
         I’m right
                  You’re wrong
         It is the weapon
                  Fuck you
         Punching keys
         Angry
         Frustrated   
         Viciously vomiting vile

                           DELETE, DELETE, DELETE

         I understand
         Your fears bind your logic
         It is the weapon—and more
         Let’s find common ground
         Pausing at each letter
         Appeasing
         Calmer
         Weighing wary words

More deaths
More excuses
More status updates
More comments
         I’m right
                  You’re wrong
         Lives matter
                  Fuck you baby killer
         Gnashing teeth
         Pissed
         Wordless
         Shredding senseless shit

                           DELETE, DELETE, DELETE

         I understand
         Your reasoning rambles
         It is the weapon—and more
         Set aside the diversion—for another time
         Carefully staying focused
         Sensible
         Cogent
         Decisively data driven

More deaths
More excuses
More status updates
More comments
         I’m right
                  You’re wrong
         More guns? No way!
                  Fuck you BITCH!
         Away from keyboard
         Pulling hair
         Livid
         Annihilating aggravating assholes

                           DELETE, DELETE, DELETE





 Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 
         
        

                

Tuesday, May 24, 2022

"Our Children Kill Each Other"




tears well in our eyes   
indignation puffs us full   
of righteousness   
at children carrying weapons   
we cry in dismay   
at cold-hearted killers   
living desperate lives in disparate lands   
far from our safe homes   
children as soldiers with an arsenal of death   
not ours   
not our responsibility   

tears well in our eyes   
as we cling to the Second Amendment   
our right to arm our children   
with hatred   
camouflaged in mistrust      
we cultivate our subtext of fear   
creating cold-hearted killers   
within our own homes   
children as soldiers with an arsenal of death   
yet not ours   
nor our responsibility   

tears well in our eyes   
disbelief sucker punches us again   
as our children kill each other   
questions, finger pointing,  and the blame game resumes   
but nothing changes   
while the new order of horror   
nurtures cold-hearted killers   
within our own homes   
children as soldiers with an arsenal of death   
ours   
our responsibility  
   

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman