Category: Miscellany

You are right!

~ danbonbooks ~ Leave a comment

Every once in a while, a small gem of wisdom bubbles up from that vast morass of anger, despair and self-promotion known as the Internet.  One such nugget introduces us to two friends discussing how, best, to avoid getting drawn into an ugly debate when someone says something intended to provoke.  Their conversation goes like this:

Friend 1:  What do you do when someone says something to you that is clearly wrong or is intended to cause an argument?

Friend 2:  Simple.  I just say “You are right.”

Friend 1:  Well, that is the stupidest thing I ever heard.  You are a fool for responding that way!

Friend 2:  You are right.

And there it is!  A quick and painless way to deflect someone whose intent is to goad another into an argument … and if you are like me, political squabbles and fruitless consequent debates are the very last things in which I want to engage.  This is not to suggest that I have no interest in the many issues that confront us all, but engaging someone with a closed mind is, to my way of thinking, likely to yield only frustration, damaged friendships and, in some cases, family estrangement.

It is important to pause here, for a moment, and underline the fact that this “You are right” conversational strategy … obviously … is not suitable in every situation.  For example, in those cases where someone expresses views that are racist, sexist, anti-semitic or supportive of violence, the only appropriate response would be to object or simply walk away.  Sad to say, we have all seen examples of how perilous it can be to confront someone with deeply held fringe views and a loose rein on their emotions.

For the “run of the mill” flat-earth proponent or the football fan who declares that “The Dallas Cowboys Suck,” though, a simple “You are right” can save a lot of time and energy.  And there is, by the way, a kernel of truth in that observation about the Cowboys!

Anyone acquainted with a “dyed-in-the-wool” Cowboys devotee knows that should he come upon that last critical remark he would, no doubt, rise in protest.  And while labelling me a heretic for besmirching “America’s Team,” he would likely go on to attribute my irreverence to the fact that I am nothing more than a transplanted New Yorker with little respect for that storied franchise.  In the face of such vitriol, there can be only one satisfactory response:

You are right.

Paging Doctor Shafmeister

~ danbonbooks ~ Leave a comment

Growing up in a small village in upstate New York, I have fond memories of a family doctor who actually … wait for it … made house calls!  Yes, on those rare occasions when Mom’s home remedies were insufficient, Doc Shafmeister would show up at the door with his black bag and caring manner.  I don’t know how he got paid … scant resources and a lack of insurance defined our household … but, as I recall, his ministrations always helped me to get well.  

Fast forward to today’s environment of deeply-intertwined health care, insurance, the internet and big business, a world into which we were recently thrust via an ambulance ride to the Emergency Room and a subsequent hospital admission.  Gratefully, the quality of medical care received at the hospital, itself, and from the various doctors, specialists and staff we encountered was of superior quality.  Their work was impeccable and caring, and we are forever grateful for their skills and dedication.  

That said, arranging for continued care after discharge from the hospital was, well, a nightmare.  In our defense, we are fairly computer-literate, but the morass of web sites, “patient portals,” calendars, phone numbers, email addresses and assorted other “apps” to which we were obliged to respond left us feeling overwhelmed.  For example:

⚫️Each of four doctor’s offices, a lab, an imaging center and the hospital itself presented us with a bevy of electronic forms to complete, and …

⚫️Each of those forms asked basically … and at great length … for the same information, and …

⚫️If we had a question for a doctor, we could submit it through a “portal” promising a reply in up to 72 hours, and …

⚫️When one doctor prescribed a new drug, checking for possible contraindications with a different doctor could take, again, up to 72 hours, and …

⚫️We could forget about trying to actually speak to someone by phone.  Office staff, understandably, cannot provide medical information … the best they could do was promise to forward a message to medical staff.

Adding another layer of aggravation in the midst of this confusion, a suspicious email showed up in our inbox inviting us to “click here” to register with some other medical entity.  Though at first glance seeming legitimate, it was a Phishing attempt and we simply deleted it.  But give credit to the scoundrel who sent it … he could not have picked a better target than someone thoroughly fatigued and fed up with all forms of electronic media. In other words … me.

As mentioned above, we could not have been more pleased with the various medical professionals whose efforts contributed so fully to diagnosing and treating the condition that presented itself.  And while we know how lucky we are to have access to such high quality care, the bureaucracy and repetitive, overly-complicated requests for information woven through the process are exhausting.  In short, one is left to wonder …  don’t these entities talk to each other?  Isn’t there some master data base that each can access?  Is there not some mechanism for conversing with a human being about medical concerns?  Weren’t computerization and associated data technology supposed to make things easer for us? 

Despite how this may read we endeavored, throughout, to avoid becoming known around various medical offices as nuisances … you know, “that patient” who nobody wants to talk to.  On the other hand, we saw our part in this endeavor as being vigorous advocates for patient care, and we took that role seriously.

The days of Doctor Shafmeister’s form of family care are long gone.  In its stead we find ourselves, today, in an environment in dire need of an ombudsman or “voice” for patients who find themselves adrift in the digital world of medicine.  Put differently, the system needs someone equipped to help us … especially the elderly … better understand what is going on with our medical care, while managing and explaining the process in ways we can comprehend.  

Jason Wolf is President and CEO of the Beryl Institute, an  institution dedicated to supporting patient and human experience in healthcare.  He describes the focus of his organization this way:

To truly improve the patient experience, we must understand the patient journey from the patient’s perspective.

Well said, Dr. Wolf.  Well said.

Begging Your Pardon

~ danbonbooks ~ Leave a comment

In the struggle to keep my wits about me amid the current political maelstrom, I am reminded of the old Saturday Night Live skit featuring Roseanne Roseannadanna (played by Gilda Radner) which she always concluded with the line:  “It’s always something.” 

Consider, for example, the recent confirmation hearings for top government leadership positions and the nominees who, as a whole, seemed to have fallen out of a clown car at the Barnum and Bailey Circus.  Whether it was refusing to call a traitor a traitor … denying past denunciation of vaccines … trying to explain away a promise to turn FBI Headquarters into a Museum of the Deep State … or dismissing widely reported sexual indiscretions and excessive drinking … one is left to wonder how, on earth, these people could have been nominated in the first place .  

It is as if we have all stepped “Through the Looking Glass” into an alternate reality where, in the words of Lewis Carroll, Alice finds her world reversed and turned upside down. .

Disheartening as those hearings may have been, they pale in comparison to the unforgivable mass pardons given to 1,500 individuals convicted of criminal offenses related to their actions at the US Capitol on January 6, 202l.  We recall, of course, the hollow assurances that consideration would be given to pardons only on a “case by case” basis, and that those who attacked and injured police officers would not be released but, as we now know, those weren’t promises … they were lies.

As a retired police officer I am not only deeply offended by these pardons … I am also fearful of what executive decisions of this sort portend for the future.  Consider the comments from one individual who was convicted of Seditious Conspiracy … upon his pardon and release, he said he wants the police to “feel the heat,” while demanding that the FBI agent who testified against him be investigated.  The question begging an answer, of course, is what sort of nightmarish society have we become?

Notably, the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP), the nation’s largest police union, had endorsed the candidate who was elected president in November.  On Inauguration Day, though, support from the FOP and its membership carried no weight at all in the decision to issue pardons to 1,500 lawbreakers, including those who assaulted and injured law enforcement personnel.  In response, the FOP issued a tepid joint press release with the International Association of Chiefs of Police in which the two organizations declared themselves “deeply discouraged.”

Amidst the fallout from these misplaced pardons, it was refreshing to hear a powerful voice of reason raised by Pamela Hemphill from Boise, ID.  She had served 60 days in jail after her plea of “guilty” to a misdemeanor charge for her actions on January 6, yet, when offered a presidential pardon, she refused to accept it.  In explaining her decision, Hemphill said she pleaded guilty because she was guilty, and that to accept a pardon would have been a slap in the face to capitol police officers, the rule of law, and the nation.  Further, she said, it would have contributed to the false narrative that January 6, was nothing more than a peaceful protest.

Wow!  Accepting personal responsibility for one’s actions!  One can only wish that such a radical idea might catch on!

Though long since retired from active law enforcement, my bond with the men and women in policing remains strong.  That being said, I shudder when sovereign citizens, flat-earth proponents, and others resist cordial and customary law enforcement interactions, while recording those contacts in hopes of posting a police misstep on YouTube.  We should not be surprised if the recent release of convicted law breakers for political purposes reenergizes those with a mind to torment those upon whom we rely so heavily.   

Those fortunate enough to have been around during the 60’s and 70’s will recall that era as being characterized by vigorous conflict between law enforcement and an amorphous counter-culture group known, loosely, as “Hippies.”  Tensions were often high between those two bodies, leading to a catchy phrase popularized by the police:“Do you need help?  Call a hippie!”

With the recent unconscionable pardons demonstrating clear political disdain for law enforcement, police officers should be forgiven for resurrecting that phrase with only a slight modification: “Do you need help?  Call a politician!”

‘Yer Out’a Here!

~ danbonbooks ~ 2 Comments

Summer would not be complete without our annual trip to take in minor league baseball games.  In a tradition begun many years ago we set off, once again, to visit ballparks where we knew we could purchase seats and hot dogs for the two of us for less than it would cost to park at a major league stadium.  And, as usual, a good time was had by all.

In Oklahoma City, for example, we got a glimpse of what the future of umpiring might look like in the big leagues and, frankly, we liked it.  Major League Baseball is experimenting at the AAA level with an “automated balls and strikes” (ABS) system, which allows a batter to challenge an umpire’s strike call, and the catcher a ball.  Each team gets three challenges, but if the umpire is shown to be correct, the team loses that challenge for the rest of the game.  

Notably, each time a challenge was made in the game we attended, the video board in left center field showed the location of the pitch as determined by the electronic device and, in every case, the umpire’s call was correct.  Coupled with the “pitch clock” already in effect, this new wrinkle shows promise of making the game move even more quickly and smoothly.

While the ABS system showed us the future of officiating in baseball, the Arkansas Travelers game in Little Rock presented us with a trip down memory lane … a ballpark organ!  Listening to the beautiful strains of that instrument, I was reminded of a Florida State League game in 1985, in which the organist – Wilbur Snapp – was thrown out for playing the song “Three Blind Mice” after an umpire’s call.  

Between innings in Little Rock, I asked the organist if he knew of that event and the name of the fellow ejected.  He could not recall Snapp’s name, but he knew of the ejection … he even showed me the playlist for that evening’s game with the following warning written in large letters: DO NOT PLAY THREE BLIND MICE.

As an aside, a different ballpark organist was ejected from a game in 2012 for playing that same song, proving that George Santayana was correct in noting: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

Growing up, I played a lot of baseball and, being a catcher, I closely followed the careers of major leaguers who excelled at that position.  One player I idolized was Smoky Burgess, who played for 18 years in the majors for several different teams.  Toward the end, Burgess was used exclusively as a pinch hitter, holding several records for excellence in that role … he would wander up to the plate, stroke a base hit, and then retire to the dugout after being replaced by a pinch runner.

With Burgess as my role model, I sometimes fantasize that I can still play the game but, unfortunately, I have yet to find a team looking for a “designated senior citizen.”  Until I find one, I will continue to be uplifted by John Fogarty’s quintessential baseball anthem “Center Field,” and those inspiring lyrics:

Put me in coach … I’m ready to play!

To Protect and Serve? Really?

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Formed in 1917, the New York State Police has much in common with the Catholic Church.  Both organizations are built around the notion of doing good, helping and protecting others, and providing a beacon of hope for those in need.  Another notable similarity between the Catholic Church and the NYSP … until 1973, when women first joined the State Police, the ranks of Priests and Troopers were composed only of men.

There is at least one other way in which the Catholic Church and the NYSP are alike … both entities place the very highest priority on safeguarding their image.  And if a recently surfaced case from upstate New York is any indication, some State Police members have proven themselves equal to Catholic prelates in their willingness to ignore and denigrate victims of ghastly behaviors perpetrated by their employees.

In the matter at hand, the Albany Times Union reported in April, 2024, the breathtaking details of Roger Coon, a now-deceased State Trooper who, in 1982, was allowed to retire from the force despite credible allegations of child sex abuse having been made against him.  It was later determined that this predator had, for years, been abusing young boys while on duty and in uniform, yet he was permitted to leave the State Police without criminal charges or disciplinary action, and with his full pension intact.

The Criminal Justice system, though, had not heard the last of this pervert, for a scant two years after leaving the State Police, Coon was sentenced to three years probation after pleading guilty to the molestation of three boys between the ages of 10 and 12.  Notably, the allegations in his case detailed more than a dozen incidents that took place immediately before and after he left the State Police.  Finally, in 2001, he was sentenced to six months in jail and five years’ probation for the sexual abuse of a 9-year-old boy.  This irredeemable deviant died in 2003.

It is important to note that when information about Coon’s criminal behavior first became known, the State Police took a page from the playbook of those Catholic leaders who worked tirelessly over the years to protect the image of the Church, while downplaying the horrific scandal of child abuse.  A written recommendation from a NYSP Investigator is especially telling:

Since the Saratoga County district attorney has elected to forego any criminal prosecution and Coon is no longer subject to division disciplinary proceedings, further investigation into this matter would only provide for possible widespread public knowledge and embarrassment to the division.

In other words, rather than conduct a wider search for other children who might have been harmed by this pedophile, the primary goal suggested by the author of this report was that, first and foremost, the image of the organization be protected.  Put differently, he proposed that the State Police should “keep the lid on things” and, when it came to the possibility of any additional victims, well, everyone would just have to keep their fingers crossed that none would come forward.

Given the concerns over image expressed by the Investigator above, one is left to wonder whether things might have turned out differently had the allegations against Roger Coon been fully investigated when they first surfaced.  How would the public and the media have reacted?   Would knowledge of the perverted actions of that one Trooper have irreparably tarnished the reputation of the State Police?  Would making public the results of a meticulous investigation have helped or harmed the stature of that agency?  In short, would the image of the NYSP have been enhanced or diminished by a demonstrated willingness to deal quickly and seriously with malfeasance within its ranks?

What is abundantly clear is that after forty-two years, this case and the manner in which it was handled have created a public relations nightmare for the New York State Police, while resurrecting the pain endured by victims of child sexual abuse.  Two days after their initial report on this case, the Albany Times Union published an editorial on this matter with a damning and accurate title:

A Stain on the Badge

According to Hillary

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No, not that Hillary!  

But I know what you were thinking … in the midst of a crazed election cycle, you expected another dose of political blather.  Well, not to worry for, like many, I have had it up to here with the current unceasing stream of extremist and partisan nonsense.

Instead, the Hillary referenced in the title is Sir Edmund Hillary and, more specifically, his immortal response when asked why he chose to scale Mount Everest in 1953: “Because it is there.”  For Bonnie and me, these words help explain why we decided, several years ago, to visit all the counties in the state of Texas … and there are 254 of them.  Yes, that’s right … 254 … and we did it because, well, they are there.

Since moving to Texas more than 35 years ago, we had traversed many of the state’s major highways and population areas. But with the more remote counties having eluded us, we decided to check them off … the Panhandle … the Rio Grande Valley … Deep East Texas … the Piney Woods … the Big Bend.  Our quest, no doubt, would have made Don Quixote nod with approval, but we finally pulled it off.

Along the way we met some wonderful folks, enjoyed breathtaking scenery, and partook of excellent food … the pie in Dripping Springs … the steak in Amarillo … the wine in Del Rio and St. Jo … the barbecue in Llano.  We also continued our love affair with Minor League baseball by taking in games with the El Paso Chihuahuas, the Big Bend Cowboys, the Amarillo Sod Poodles, the Midland Rockhounds, the Corpus Christi Hooks, the Frisco Roughriders and the Cleburne Railroaders.

As we rambled about the Lone Star State, we came to appreciate the  genesis of the old saying: “The sun has riz, the sun has set, and here we is in Texas yet.”  Throughout our journey, though, we remained inspired by Willie Nelson’s well-known song “On The Road Again” and, in particular, the way he describes his affection for travel: “… goin’ places that I’ve never been,” and “ … seein’ things that I may never see again.”

Willie’s joy in travel (and ours) is captured, perfectly, in the next stanza of that iconic work:

And I can’t wait to get on the road again

Special Connections

~ danbonbooks ~ Leave a comment

Growing up in New York State, I have fond memories of my grandfather who, after much prodding, would talk about his service in the US Army.  I especially enjoyed hearing him tell of his part in the Pancho Villa Punitive Expedition along the Texas-Mexico border in 1916 and 1917, followed by his tour in France at the end of World War I.  My grandfather served under the command of General “Black Jack” Pershing (and a Lieutenant by the name of George Patton), and I have always been moved by the handwritten note on his discharge papers: “Service Honest and True.”

When speaking of his time along the border, my grandfather would tell of places with mysterious-sounding names like Lajitas, Terlingua, Presidio and Marfa … places which, as a youngster, lived only in my imagination.  But since moving to Texas more than 35 years ago, I have made a number of trips to the Big Bend region and have come to know these places well.  And as others familiar with those parts might agree, a visit there exposes one to a special kind of desolate beauty, and a landscape that has changed very little since my grandfather served there more than a century ago.

Over the years, I have had the good fortune to be able to take my grandsons to the Big Bend, and to show them where my grandfather … their great-great-grandfather … had served.  There is something almost magical in being able to stand on the grounds of the long-ago cavalry fort in Lajitas, while looking across the Rio Grande River (a mere stone’s throw away) at the same mountains and desert over which  Pershing’s troops pursued Pancho Villa in the interest of protecting the United States border.

One grandson who visited the Big Bend with me as a young boy is, himself, now a Sergeant in the US Army.  And, in a circumstance that can only be described as perfect symmetry, he and his unit are currently assigned to assist with security along the Texas-Mexico border.  And though the precise nature of my grandfather’s assignment and that of my grandson may differ, there is an undeniable kinship in their efforts … separated by more than 100 years … to safeguard the United States and to protect US citizens.

Though we were looking forward to seeing our grandson over the upcoming holidays those plans will, obviously, have to be put in abeyance.  But as we lament the fact that he won’t be home with his family this year, we take enormous pride in him and the work he and his colleagues do every day to keep us safe and secure. 

It is our fervent wish that all the men and women serving in the US military be safe this holiday season and, as the saying goes: “Thank you for your service.”

Order In The Court?

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Raising a family in the 60’s and 70’s, I often found myself seeking out part time employment  to help make ends meet.  One job that was especially appealing was that of Little League umpire, for it allowed me to take part in a sport I loved, to work with youngsters, and to pull down the princely sum of $8.00 per game.

As a police officer, though, I had to clear the administrative hurdle of requesting approval from my employer before I could take my stance behind home plate.  The purpose, of course, was to make certain there would be no conflict between my calling balls and strikes for 10-year olds, and unbiased enforcement of the law in my real job.

Many years later, I was tasked with making the travel and associated arrangements for a senior Federal law enforcement official who had, graciously, accepted our invitation to speak at a conference we were organizing.  Pleased though we were that he would join us, I was taken aback by the eleven page questionnaire I had to complete in order for him to attend.  Eleven pages!

Among the queries were … will he be receiving a meal? … who is providing the meal? … what is the value of the meal? … will he be receiving an award? … what is the value? … what is the cost of travel and lodging? … who is paying for the travel and lodging?  While tedious, the purpose of this inquiry was to assure that nothing of value might be offered or accepted that could give rise to even the slightest appearance that this government official might be beholden to some person or institution.

Reflecting back upon the hoops I had to jump through as a young police officer seeking to officiate baseball games and, later, as organizer for a law enforcement gathering, recent events make me wonder whether certain government officials in positions of public trust cleave to an equally rigorous ethical standard.  I am talking, of course, about the United States Supreme Court, and recent reports that this august body might not be as, well, honorable as it claims to be.

As this matter unfolded, questions were raised, initially, about possible ethical missteps by only one or two members.  Gradually, though, more issues surfaced, with each begging further elaboration.  For example, the sale or purchase of property … acceptance of trips and vacations … sources of spousal income … failing to recuse after accepting gifts from individuals with matters before the court … and overall lack of transparency regarding financial disclosures.

The crux of the matter here, of course, is simple: though we expect every decision handed down by the “highest court in the land” to be based entirely on thoughtful and objective consideration of the facts, there will always remain a modicum of doubt about the motivation of any justice who may have benefitted from the largesse of an individual with an interest in the case at hand.

In 1951, Judge Irving Kaufman presided over the espionage trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.  This widely respected federal magistrate spoke, this way, of the imperative connection of ethics to our judicial system:

The supreme court’s only armor is the cloak of public trust; its sole ammunition the collective hopes of our society.

More recently (Dallas Morning News, July 7, 2023) retired Texas District Court Judge Jerry Calhoon provided an eloquent, thoughtful and first hand appraisal of the issues at the very heart of this current debacle:

When I became judge of the 349th District Court of our state, I received an invitation to an annual fish camp gathering of attorneys for a weekend at the lake.  Although it came from a former classmate, I politely declined, reasoning that having never been invited before it was only my ascension to the bench that drew the invitation.  I wished to avoid any appearance of impropriety that the judicial ethics of our state requires.

Justices of the Supreme Court accepting hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of benefits from donors having interest in the workings of the court boggles my mind.  Then to read that some in the media think the only problem is their failure to report as the law requires makes me wonder what universe I live in.

Acceptance of these benefits is the problem.  Does anyone believe for a minute that these gifts were bestowed because of the scintillating wit or pleasing personalities their presence would bring to the gathering of the donor’s acquaintances?

I once was proud to be a member of the bar of the U.S. Supreme Court.  Now I feel as if my certificate of admittance has been denigrated by these justices.

Using the Hebrew word signifying truth or agreement, I can only add … Amen.

Burn Before Reading

~ danbonbooks ~ Leave a comment

If you happen to ask a military veteran what he or she did during their time in the service, don’t be surprised if they respond this way: “Well, I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”  This implies, of course, that what they did was so secret and “black ops” in nature that they are forever prohibited from talking about it.

Having spent my 1960’s-era enlistment assigned to Air Force Intelligence, I would be more inclined to answer this way: “Well, I could tell you what I did, but then I would have to bore you to death.”  In other words, collecting and analyzing data for a living was a tedious enterprise and, for the record, the term “Air Force Intelligence” is NOT an oxymoron.

Yes, the work was often monotonous, but my colleagues and I were never confused about the confidential nature of what we did and our absolute obligation to safeguard secret information and processes.  This point was emphasized constantly, and I had little doubt that a slip of the tongue or a misplaced document would result in my immediate incarceration at Leavenworth.

As you might suspect, this trip down memory lane was stimulated by the current kerfuffle over secret government documents being found, daily, in a variety of odd and insecure places, and in the custody of … well … nobody seems to know.  How, on earth, could this happen?  Weren’t the individuals in possession of these items given the same security warnings as those of us in the trenches? 

Incidentally, anyone interested in buying a shredder in or around Washington these days should not be surprised to find office supply stores sold out.  The reason is simple: politicians and government employees, both past and present and regardless of party affiliation, are likely combing through old files and collected documents in search of the odd misplaced classified material that could put them in the crosshairs of one or another ongoing investigation.

This is not to suggest that security breaches, whether intentional or accidental in nature, did not occur in the past.  They did.  But the cavalier manner in which government officials are treating this current debacle is both disconcerting and worrisome and, in my view, reflective of a  diminution of caution about things that, in the past, were deemed sensitive.  

This became abundantly clear to me several years ago while driving along the Baltimore-Washington Parkway in Maryland.  As I approached the exit for Fort Meade and the National Security Agency I noticed, much to my surprise, an additional sign providing directions to the National Cryptologic Museum!  A museum!  At NSA!  

To fully appreciate my astonishment, it is important to know that during my tenure at this super-secret agency,  we always maintained that the letters “NSA” stood for “No Such Agency.”  But that was then and this is now … today, the public has access to exhibits and information which, in the past, would never have been displayed or even discussed outside a secure environment. 

When I think about the importance of security and the way that idea was inculcated in us some sixty years ago, I can only shake my head in wonder at what seems, today, to be a thoroughly lackadaisical approach to an issue with serious implications for our national security.  Further, It is disheartening to watch the machinations of various government functionaries performing damage control while, at the same time, casting blame upon others for embarrassing and dangerous security breaches.  

One very well-known individual in the realm of national security said this:

Two things about the NSA stunned me right off the bat: how technologically sophisticated it was compared with the CIA, and how much less vigilant it was about security.

That person just quoted is Edward Snowden, an American and naturalized Russian former computer consultant who, in 2013, stole and revealed highly classified information from the NSA.  By some accounts he leaked more than one million documents, the vast majority of which related to military capabilities, operations, tactics, techniques, and procedures of the United States.

Now Weight Just a Minute

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Among the many insults police officers find themselves having to deflect, one of the oldest and most enduring is the apocryphal belief that cops are somehow addicted to donuts.   As fans of the acclaimed HBO series “The Sopranos” will recall, this widespread notion even received mention from aspiring gangster Christopher Moltisanti when he described a large gathering of police officers this way:

You ain’t seen this many cops lined up since the centennial of Dunkin’ Donuts. 

There may be a grain of truth in Moltisanti’s comment for, in my experience, the grand opening of the first 24 hour donut shop in my patrol area (circa 1970) was, frankly, a cause for celebration.  Previously, those working the graveyard shift had to content themselves with the occasional stale pastry from an all-night diner.  This new place, though, presented a vast array of always-fresh temptations, albeit with commensurate challenges to police department weight and fitness requirements.

This trip down the memory lane of unhealthy eating was brought to mind by the recent news that the Texas Department of Public Safety has relaxed their physical fitness standards for Troopers.  While emphasizing that physical fitness and command presence are inalterably linked, the new policy permits an extra inch of leeway on waist measurements (41 inches for men and 36 inches for women).  Those not in compliance with standards must enroll in a fitness improvement plan, which includes exercise goals and nutrition diaries, along with a recounting of actions being taken to improve their physical fitness.

The police agency from which I retired (the New York State Police) also views physical fitness as an important element.  During my career, though, the method for insuring compliance was far more punitive than restorative in nature, requiring those whose weight was not in proportion to their height to submit a monthly memorandum detailing their progress toward compliance.

Widely viewed as a tool for harassment rather than improvement, these submissions (during the era before women joined the NYSP) were referred to as “Fat Boy Memos.”  And though their stated purpose was to report progress toward improved physical fitness they often reflected, instead, the writer’s creative writing skill.  One such memo, for example, detailed an overweight Trooper’s progress toward meeting his height-weight goal this way:

I did not lose any weight this month … but I grew an inch.

If memory serves, the writer’s boss was not amused.