A Cop Can Chase The Bad Guys, Good

Unless he runs into another cop, chasing the bad guys, bad.

Every cop hates pursuits, or not. It’s a love/hate relationship. Either way, they are a wreck waiting to happen. The risk for injury to pedestrians is huge, as is the danger of running into someone, or causing the car you’re chasing to do either.

Sometimes, cops even run into EACH OTHER. Which is exactly what happened to mine. (cop that is.) I was a young new mother, and had settled into late evenings at home alone. I had learned to enjoy the hours spent rocking my baby, planning meals, decorating the house, reading and watching movies.

I was low maintenance. Give me a book, a baby, cookies in the oven, it was so 1960. (Actually, 1977, but you get the idea.)

One night, around 2:00a.m. (why is it always 2:00a.m.? Is there something deadly about that hour in the universe?), I got the dreaded knock on the door.

It’s never good when that happens. It was a cop, and I nearly slid to the floor, thinking the worst. Immediately, I needed to throw up. Gagging, I pressed my hand to the mouth, my eyes pleading what my voice could not.

The cop’s first words were “He’s alive.” Wise man, to say that first.

I swallowed, fighting the strong urge to vomit. Adrenalin hit my stomach like a ton of bricks. I nodded, tears flowing already. I’m so strong. “Stop it!” I yelled at myself silently.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to the hospital, his car collided with a deputy’s car. He’s conscious, it looks like a head wound, not sure what else.” He was moving me around the house, letting me calm down. I grabbed some clothes and ran to the bathroom. We gathered the baby up and I said “Take me to my mother-in-laws.”

I pounded on her door, knowing she was not going to understand and would also feel like vomiting. “Lynn’s been hurt but he’s ok. I’ll call you from the hospital, I promise. Here’s the baby.”

I was back in the police car and we took off, red lights blinking into the darkness. No siren, thank God. I hate those things.

I was silent, the cop, one of Lynn’s men, was talking softly. “He was in pursuit, going North. The deputy was in pursuit of another guy, going West. The deputy did not stop at the intersection. Lynn saw it coming, you know him, he’s never speeding that fast since he’s a dad now, and so he was able to slam on the brakes. He still hit at an impact of 30 miles an hour we think, and he must’ve hung on the steering wheel with everything he’s got because it’s bent in half. It started about 8pm, this yellow GTO was buzzin’ through town running lights and floorin’ turning corners on two wheels. We’ve chased him all night. We just knew he was going to take out another car. We don’t know who he is, but we’ve seen him before. He’s good. Bad, but a good driver. Fast, daredevil, probably 17 or 18, he’s had some experience behind the wheel. Other departments in nearby counties have had trouble with him, no one can catch the guy. He’s run lots of people off the road. Lynn said none of us were to press him, just try to head him off, keep our distance, this guy would go the distance, he’s no green horn. By midnight, we were all gettin’ pissed. He had disappeared and we were drivin’ the alleys. Couldn’t find the creep. All of a sudden, he screams around the Sonic and heads north outta town, Lynn’s right behind him but slows down and drops back, hoping to decrease the guy in the GTO’s speed.

We didn’t know the deputy was anywhere around, he wasn’t on the radio. Outta nowhere, the deputy is crossing the intersection right at the fkkkiiiin highway!! If Lynn had been going full speed like he was earlier in the evening, well.. I don’t have to tell you…

When we got there, Lynn was out of the car, and fightin’ us because he didn’t know anything. He’s got a head wound. Since he was standing, we assume his legs are ok, but he collapsed to the ground so we don’t know……Marisue. Are you about to throw up? Please don’t throw up in my fkkkkin’ car….oh maannn!”

The cop knew me, and he knew I’d want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It was a pact we had all made. Give it to me straight.

Then help me throw up.

Miraculously, I had pity on the cop and did not throw up in his car. I waited until he opened the side car door for me and then I threw up on his shoe. Sorry. I ran into the emergency room of the small town hospital, and saw Lynn lying on the narrow hard table, with his eyes closed and blood everywhere. The doctor looked up. He was sewing Lynn’s scalp back together.

Matter of factly, the doctor began to talk “Hi Marisue, nothing like a midnight stroll to get us all going, eh? He’s going to be ok, if you don’t mind a few more lines in his face. I thought cops knew to stop at intersections. You might have an argument with the deputy who didn’t. I’m cutting his uniform off, and he’s going to xray, make sure he doesn’t have any broken bones. He’s going to have a major headache. but since he complains all the time anyway, you probably won’t notice the difference.”

I did giggle, but almost too much. Hysteria was pouring through my system, mixing with the adrenalin and coming up in my mouth. Everyone was a comedian.

Lynn, disturbed by the voices, tried to open his eyes and turn towards me. Those baby blues were gray and glassy. He did not recognize me. I looked up at the doctor, who shrugged and said “Well, for the next hour or two, you could play the other woman.” I was not amused.

The doctor cleared his throat and said “Most head wounds like this leave you foggy. He’s got a concussion. He’ll be confused for a few hours or maybe a day. ” The doctor told Lynn to be still, and he seemed to go back to sleep, as he muttered, “What happened?”

The doctor grinned and said “I wish I had a nickel for every time someone says that.”

I must have looked pale and weak, the nurse pushed me into a chair in the hall and gave me some water. My face began to feel warm again, and my stomach settled down. I jumped up, startling everyone and ran to the pay phone to call Lynn’s mother. “He’s ok, a nasty cut to the head, you wont be able to see it when his hair grows back. They don’t think anything else is broken, we’ll know soon, he was talking but he’s sleeping a little, they can’t sedate him due to the concussion…”

I stopped talking and willed myself to slow down and breathe.

His mother asked if I was sure he was ok. I said “not completely but probably.” Neither of us felt much better. It was too soon and we didn’t have enough information.

More cops arrived, checking on Lynn. I overheard pieces of their conversations. It seemed they were more angry at the hecklers that had driven by honking and being obnoxious about the two wrecked police cars, than they were at the deputy. That would come later.

One of Lynn’s childhood friends, who was also on the force, was in hot pursuit of a heckler. The friend, Jim, was in his own car, and the police were trying to find him to calm him down before the whole situation exploded. Cops do not like it when “drive by’s” heckle.

Neither do cop’s wives. Speaking of which, they began to arrive by twos – to see if I needed something. I did, company. I didn’t want to talk, I just didn’t want to be alone. In fact, tho’ I know it’s hard to believe, I had little to say. I murmured, nodded and listened, saying “huh?” to everyone who spoke to me.

I was ravenous, and couldn’t eat when food appeared. I was thirsty, and threw up the liquid. I was calm, as tears slid continually down my cheeks.

Finally, Lynn was in a room and did recognize me when I entered. He asked “Is the scar bad?” I said, “What scar?” We both laughed as I cried.

Within seconds, the room was full of cops, cop’s wives, and noise. The nurses were having none of that and rushed in to scoot us out. Lynn slept, I returned to his mother’s house and we all waited for the sun to come up.

The kid that Lynn was attempting to pull over, was later found at home, in a nearby town. As word spread that a cop had been hit, regardless of how or why, all departments were on hot alert to get the speeder, who was causing all this trouble. The 17 year old received his ticket and was no worse for the wear, nor did he express regret. Grrrr. Thankfully, Lynn had not been speeding, just following behind with his lights flashing. Lynn had a dread of causing a teen to panic and get seriously hurt, because a cop was chasing him. It was ironic, that Lynn got hurt instead.

They never found the hecklers, which was a good thing. The cops talked for years about the “dukes of hazard” colliding; it made for great exaggerated tales.

Lynn’s scar is one of distinction, but has faded with time. The deputy who ran into him was not injured and personally apologized, but was taken off duty for a period of time, just for precaution. City cops and deputy cops compete, no one knows why, but it’s tradition.

It was just an accident, and part of a cop’s life.

-I’m Marisue, telling the tales, of a cop and his wife.

A Gassy Cop – Will He Survive?

We’re talking gas, all right, but not the kind you put in your car. Or…?  Come on, go ahead and read, it’s just a fact of life.

I know. It’s embarassing to even bring the subject up. We all do it and we all go through every day pretending we don’t. Like me for instance. This entire story will be told at my husband’s expense.

Well, gee. You didn’t think I did this kind of thing did you?

It’s him. He does it everywhere and he even blames me. I can be standing next to him in the check out lane and…well, I just can’t bare to say it. Lean close. Come on, lean in closer. Right next to the monitor…he passes wind.

You know. Wind. Gas, Air, okay make me say it…he farts. I do apologize for those I’ve just offended. I must warn you, it’s going to get worse.

If you’re under 18 and living in a virgin house that is free from, uh, gas…then please read no further. You do not want to know what a grown man does in public places, and some places not so public. It’s completely unnatural and evidently there is no cure.

Personally, I think it’s a guy thing. Well, maybe not, but the sheer enjoyment and pleasure of passing gas for a man is just a strange phenomenon. They are so into the moment. You’ve seen that, right?

For the past 32 years, I have been subjected to sheer torture. I am confessing now that I’ve had my moments of being tempted to walk out, but what about the children? I think about it though, everytime he pulls his passing wind stunts.

What brought this to mind is that he did it again, the other day right in front of God, and everyone in the store. He always catches me off guard. There we are, walking down the canned bean aisle and it must have been the power of suggestion from the beans, because I heard this god-awful roar. I prayed it was thunder, but no.

Automatically I held my breath. Experience, my friends (I do apologize for those words, McCain has made them so painful even to write), it’s just experience. You hear the roar and if you value your life you will hold your breath, and then you’ll push that cart away at a trot. “Away” is the key word.

His next comment is so predictable. He will turn abruptly, with a shocked look on his pink face and say loudly “Mari SUE!!”

Like I did it!! And, what are you going to say back to that?? “I didn’t do it – it was YOU!” Ha! People look knowingly and in pure sympathy at him. I can hear their thoughts “Poor woman, has she been this way long?” They always think it’s me. He is such a liar and performer…it’s probably all those years on the police force, don’t you think?

He’s just not human.

I could slice and dice that man in that moment, and I am not a violent woman. He is so lucky I stay with him. The grocery store is not the worst place this happens. Oh, no. Not by a long shot. I have many memories of moments of embarassing flatulence.

Here, are the Top Ten Embarassing Places To Pass Gas:

1. Do NOT get on an elevator with this man. He will wait, until it’s full of people and you can’t move and — well, he just let’s it rip. This one is silent.

What hurts my feelings is that when people begin to cough and stir around, fervently searching for that one delicious breath of freshness, he looks at the one next to him and jerks his head in my direction and then rolls his eyes.

While I’m busy melting into the floor, he’s causing everyone to look in my direction. He’s a mean man. I think silent gas is the worst and entirely not fair. Where is your defense against such a thing!!

At that moment I can not be trusted to speak.

I carry air freshner but dragging that out would only convince them it was me. Instead, my innocence is validated by the slightly blue tinge to my face from holding my breath. Living proof of purity. Why would you hold your breath if the gas was yours? See!?! You know what I’m talking about, but does anyone on the elevator take time to think of that??? No!! They are too busy giving me dirty looks while they gasp for air!

They hate me. Well, they’re strangers, why do I care?

2. Do NOT attend a business meeting of 100 people in the same room and sit next to him. For some reason, he thinks the large room and the 100 people absorb the sound. So, these gassy moments are not silent. Oh yes, plural as in more than one. I try to sit on the end of the row but it’s not always possible. The sound is deafening and long. What happened to the little short ones??

He just sits there. No embarassment. Nothing, until, slowly, he’ll turn his head to me and put his hand on his hip. His little “Well, I never!” look would stop a herd of elephants.and he can hold that position for a full 30 seconds.

As if on cue, someone will clear their throat and breaks have been called for no apparent reason. “We’ll all take a 10 minute bathroom break, folks. Uh, Make that 15 minutes.”

I never know what happens next because I’m outta there like greased lightning. People won’t even look in my direction when the meeting starts up. Magically, I have tons of elbow room on the now nearly vacant row. I like wiggle room, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to though.

I’m so alone.

3. When you’re riding in the car, and you notice his leg stiffen and press against the floorboard…roll the window down, quick. Don’t ask questions, just do it. Even the dog moves to the back of the car. It’ll take about 20 miles to air everything out, so just be patient. What I don’t get is…the dog looks at me funny, too. Like his master is so perfect. I get no respect.

4. If you’re sitting with us in a restaurant, and the meal is finished, beware. The worst is yet to be. Why can’t he just belch like the rest of us? Oh, he’ll get up to go to the bathroom, AFTER he gives us all the gift. Once again, he’ll blame me. He looks at me and leans in to whisper. THEY think he’s whispering a correction, but it’s really “Honey don’t blush, they’ll think it’s you.”

I want to run to the bathroom, but if I do, it will remove all doubt in their opinion. So, I sit still, and try not to cough. Suddenly, everyone’s tired and has to go home. It’s his way of controlling the night. I just know it is.

He needs therapy.

5. Do you like movies? I used to. We don’t go often anymore. He just can’t pay attention to the story. He HAS to invent his own drama. I think sometimes people think it’s the movie, but technology hasn’t gone that far. And aren’t we all thankful. Popcorn couldn’t even compete. Where do men get that smell?

The darkness was my only comfort.

6. Don’t even think about getting in the hot tub together. If you do, make sure the bubbles are already moving and do not laugh so hard you sink under the water. It’s no better under there.

I’m telling you, he has no pride.

7. I never accompany him to the Dr office. Oh, no!! I’m not having him convince them it’s me, and have them probe me with whatever. Nada. Ain’t happenin’ – he’s on his own if he gets sick.

Compassion escapes me at times.

8. Cooking together should be a pleasure. Lately, he can just cook by himself. When I stalk out he has the nerve to ask “WHY? Honey! What’d I dooo?”

Let me just say that some odors do not mix well with frying chicken. When he is really feeling good and energetic, I can’t even say pass the salt. When your napkin is stuffed in your mouth it’s hard to talk.

I have such an easy gag reflex, I just can’t help it.

9. Our dog loves sitting in his lap, at the end of the day, they are great pals. The dog is not perfect either. Little Buddy gets blamed for many things. You can always tell what really happened, though. If you smell something, and the dog doesn’t move…Buddy did it. On the other hand, if Buddy goes flying off the lap and lands across the room in one single quantum leap, rest assured, my husband was the guilty party.

Trouble is, he doesn’t even wake up. More proof of my innocence in elevators. If you’re not gaggin…well I rest my case. The Nose Knows.

10. I’ve save the best for last. Night time is scarey. I tip toe into the room and try to sneak into the bed. Shhh. Don’t wake him up and please, dear god, don’t ever, ever, ever, raise the sheets.

Life is not fair.

I am Marisue, and I do apologize, for what I wrote, talking about a cop’s wife’s life… 

This post was first written by me at http://hubpages.com/hub/Top-10-Really-Embarassing-Places-to-Pass-Gas  I placed it here to honor the man behind the badge.

Everything You Need To Know About A Cellar

But…were afraid to ask.

Lynn was always gone when I needed to go to the cellar, but we did try to keep it stocked and reasonably safe, since the cop was busy and the cop’s wife panicked in cellars.

Cellars, can be a dreaded place, if you suffer from claustrophobia, which I do.  I’m not dysfunctional or anything.  I’ve never had therapy.  I hardly ever notice it unless I’m under a blanket, under the house, stuck in an elevator, wearing a hat, fighting with a tight turtleneck sweater, in a closed 4 x 4 room, you know, things like that.   

I hardly break a sweat if it’s something not on that list.  I’m cool. Living in Oklahoma has taught me a thing or two about cellars. 

One, they’re dark.  Two, they’re really dark, and Three, they’re really dark and damp.

I’ve compiled a list of everything you should know about a cellar, but were afraid to ask.  If you’ve got some things you’d like to add, feel free.

1. Cellars can be fun.  If you’re 5 years old, don’t have to go potty, or poop, it’s not a bad place. 
2. You can never have enough snacks, and if you live in Tornado Alley, keep your cellar well stocked with crispy things that go crunch. 
3. Store everything in plastic bags or containers and wrap them in paper towels so they stay drier than the air you’re going to be breathing down in that deep, dark, damp hole.
4. Cellars are not fun if you’re not a 5 year old and an adult who has to go to the bathroom, both ways.
5. Cellars are not fun, if someone has just used the porta-potty.
6. Bring Air Freshner.
7. Cellars are boring.  Bring games and don’t let “I Spy” be one of them.
8. Spiders love cellars.
9. Mice loves cellars.
10. Roaches live in cellars.
11. You can’t kill roaches, they are indestructible.
12. Roaches multiply worse than rabbits.
13. Everything mildews. 
14. Don’t lay on the bed without shaking all the covers and examining every inch for bugs that don’t respond to shaking.
15. Roaches are bugs that don’t respond to shaking.
16. Snakes hide in cellars and come out when you doze.  Don’t doze.
17. Have an ax to chop your way out should something land on your cellar door.
18. Add a prybar and a shovel.  You can’t have too many tools in a cellar.
19. Kids cry.
20. Kids laugh at kids crying.
21. The cellar door is heavy and does not stay in your hand during a 70 mile an hour wind gust.
22. Go to the cellar before the wind gets to the level of 70 miles an hour.
23. Don’t be afraid.
24. That’s ridiculous, be very afraid.
25. Be more afraid of spiders.
26. Spiders drop from the ceiling of cellars.  They’re not just trying to say “Hi!”
27. Check the cellar for cobwebs before Tornado Season.
28. Cobwebs stick to your hair.
29. Sometimes cobwebs are really spider webs in disguise.
30. Check batteries more often than once every 5 years.
31. Take a radio that fits the batteries. They do have to match in size required.
32. Store toilet paper in plastic wrap.
33. Answer the same question from your child 122 times with patience. This has a selfish motivation; crying echoes in the chamber.
34. Learn to smile through gritted teeth without scaring the children.
35. Lie.  “Everything is going to be fine, Daddy will be here soon.”
36. Don’t worry about the lie, it’s acceptable.
37. Pack an emergency first aide kit and remember where you put it in the deep dark damp cellar.  Someone will smash their finger.
38. Have lights, lots of lights in various sizes.
39. Forget the alcohol, unless it’s rubbing alcohol, this is no time for a party.
40. Have pen and paper. Writing your thoughts is good therapy.
41. Make sure you have personal identification on your body, don’t ask why.
42. Call people before the storm, so they know you’re going to the cellar, just in case later, they can’t find you.
43. Don’t paint your cellar red.  It’ the color of panic. 
44. Don’t panic.

It’s all going to be okay.  See rule about lying. 

– by Marisue, telling the stories of a cop’s wife’s life.

A Cop’s Wife Tangles With Twisters

A cop’s wife needs to be strong and able to make quick decisions, without calling her cop.  Oklahoma twisters were pretty hard and a daily scare in the stormy season.  We lived in a small town, and the townsfolk expected their cops to keep them safe, even from tornadoes. 

You learned to live with the weather channel and local news in your ear during the Spring and early Summer, especially. 

 Though I am a woman of few phobias, I hate cellars.

Still, only a fool would avoid one when it’s time to go.   The local cops, during a stormy day or night, were often out on the highways and country road, storm watching. 

In the days before everyone had a cell phone, Lynn would try to make a quick run home with stern warnings to get to the cellar the moment it was necessary and to stay alert. 

He knew that my fear of dark and spiders, would make me hesitate.  You don’t want to wait ’til you hear the roar to go to the cellar.  Not only could the cellar door be deadly and ripped out of your hands,  if you’re also holding kids, the door and pets…well, you get the picture.

One word of caution.  Forget the umbrella, get wet.  Keep towels in the cellar, fresh water, fresh batteries for radio and light, snacks for comfort, even a game or two for the kids.  Did I say Lights, lots of lights???

I went to the cellar many nights with just me and the kids, hating every second, worried about my husband, and he worrying about us.  It was the way we lived but I will tell you a secret.

When people griped about cops, thought we were well paid (HA!), thought we had perks, I was so tempted to get into their face.  

However, not only does a cop’s wife have to go to the cellar alone, she frequently has to keep her mouth shut.

-I am Marisue, telling the stories of a cop’s wife’s life.

A Cop Is A Dad, Too

A cop’s job can be all absorbing.  The pressures are constant and overwhelming.  The cases, the tragedy, the sadness of what they see eats their hope and their attitude. 

As a cop’s wife, I saw my role as helping him heal from the negative mental video that played in his mind.  As a family, we tried to make up for the negative.  Some cops are rejuvenated by their home life, some are destroyed by it.

Many times cops are accused of being married to their job, yet in their defense, they need to be totally focused for their own safety, and for the safety of others.  They can’t be worrying about bills at home, or their last argument with wife or the kids.  Sound familiar?

The good cop makes sure he keeps his family ties strong.  Being there is not always comfortable and easy, but it’s important even to make the effort.  Cops have a high rate of divorce; it’s a tough life for families.  Those marriages that have staying power are the ones with wives who can be alone, and are not a “dependent” personality, and  who actually enjoy their husband’s job.  

You can’t be afraid to attend activities alone, being flexible is the rule of the day for a cop and his family!

It can be very exciting, a little scarey, full of pressure, all mixed in with an amount of pride in the work they do.

Being a dad, extends into the grown child years.  My oldest son has a busy job running a club and it steals his daylight hours.  When the brakes went bad on his car, he not only didn’t have the energy to repair them, he didn’t have the time.

Dad to the rescue.  Lynn drove the miles across Tampa Bay, repaired the brakes, and returned to work.  Exhausted, but that’s a good dad’s life. 

Here’s to good cops who balance work and home, everywhere!

by: Marisue, talking about the cop’s wife’s life.

A Question A Cop’s Wife Asks Before Panicking

Cop’s forget the shock effect of their job.  They walk around in sticky, oozy smelly things all the time.  Thankfully, I didn’t have to clean the uniforms, we sent them out.

It’s amazing what comes home from the police department.  My cop always left clean, he smelled good, looked good, my man, Lynn.  What walked back in the door was anyone’s guess.

I’m a strong woman, one of few phobias, not prone to panic.  I thought. Twenty-five and pregnant, I still had a lot to learn. 

As a young married couple, and really even now, we have a lot to talk about.  Then, life was full of adventure, and we would give up sleep to talk about it.  Can you imagine?  Now, it’s “Honey could you tell me in the morning, I’m dead.” 

Lynn worked the night shift for years and years.  He wasn’t really a night owl, but that’s where the excitement is if you’re a cop, even in a small town. 

One night, he came home about 2:00a.m. and unfortunately he was locked out.  He pounded on the door, and of course, I went to the door, belly first as I was 6 months pregnant. 

You’re about to ask “What was he thinking!!”

I opened the door and screamed.  His shirt and part of his face was covered in blood.  My hand flew to my mouth, my eyes to his face and back to his chest.  He looked like he’d been shot.  He froze, I froze, we were both a sight.

I guess he saw my eyes try to roll back into my head so he jumped through the door saying “I’m alright, I’m alright, most of it’s not my blood.” 

MOST OF IT??

Yeah, that was my question too, only I couldn’t speak on account of I was about to throw up.  I didn’t know blood stunk.  It’s a sharp metallic smell that burns the nose and throat. 

I backed up to the couch and dropped like a heavy rock.  Lynn was talking, repeating over and over “I was in pursuit and when he stopped, as I was telling him to put his hands behind his back he turned and came at me with his fist, he was holding a tire iron,  but all I saw was motion so I drew my baton, rather quickly I might add, and hit him.  He hit me first, and I hit him a second later.  See?  This is his blood and this part’s mine.  See my eye?  It’s turning black, I think.  That’s what bled, head wounds bleed a lot, see he hit me here on the temple. Man, I’m pretty lucky, he had to have stitches from the baton.”

“Lynn!, Lynn!, please, stop, don’t tell me anymore, take your shirt off, I can’t stand to look at it!!”

Cops!!   They’re so in awe of their job. 

After this eventful night of fright, he learned to change clothes before he came home,  and I ask “Whose Blood is it?” before I faint.

It worked, we’ve been together going on 32 years, so all you young cop wives, learn from me.  Ask questions first, faint later.

by: Marisue, talking about the cop’s wife’s life.

12 Survival Tips for Cop Wives

Over the years, I absorbed a lot of knowledge from my husband the cop. If you’re really observant, some of it’s bound to rub off on you. Here’s a few things I learned, while being married to the MAN IN UNIFORM:

1. If you go to see a scarey movie with him, be prepared to hear: “That could never happen in real life.” every 5 minutes.

2. If he takes you to see “The Reincarnation of Peter Proud,” don’t share the popcorn box. He will switch it to the coke cup while you aren’t looking and right when Peter Proud goes over the boat into the water you will stick your hand in the coke cup and scream like a nut. He will laugh uproariously as nothing in the movie scares him and he’s looking for entertainment.

3. Don’t take square dance lessons with any expectation of having a visible do-se-do partner. The pager will go off unexpectantly and he will too. I do a mean do-se-do all by myself.

4. Be prepared to celebrate Christmas on any other day but December 25th. The Good Cop, Chief, will let his staff off and cover their shift. It’s ok, that big ol’ heart is why you married him, remember?

5. When he takes you to the local dance club owned by his would-be Elvis-like singer-lifelong-friend, realize that after the first 2 dances, he’ll end up being the bouncer, even if it is his day off. Bring a good book.

6. Don’t take it personally when you make a u-turn at the corner where you aren’t supposed to, he’ll have half a dozen calls about “why the cop’s wife can do that and no one else can” by the time you get back home.

7. If you sit down to dinner, expect the doorbell to ring by a distraught father, abused spouse, or sad teen. They just have one quick question.

8. When you go to the Sonic for a quick burger and conversation, expect to make at least 3 quick stops as he sees crime happening out of the corner of his eye while driving 40 miles down the street in the dark…”this will just take a minute, honey. Lock the door.”

9. Don’t let him clean his unloaded rifle while you’re back is turned as you fold clothes and he watches a football game. At a touchdown moment, the unloaded 22 rifle will shoot a hole in the roof causing him to win the TOP SHINGLE SHOOTER AWARD at the police Christmas Party. He will not be amused. I still don’t know who told. I swear.

10. Always check to make sure the car is in park when he stops the car suddenly, because once again, he sees crime happening out of the corner of his eye while you’re going down a perfectly bright country road at 50 miles an hour. The car in park, but not double checked, will roll downhill, as you sit calmly in the passenger seat. You will then lose your religion while you scramble into the driver’s seat. Daintiness goes out the window, literally. If you value your husband’s ego, you’ll fail to mention any of this when he gets back into the car. “How’d that go, dear?”

11. Never try to understand cop humor as he tells you of his evening, when he discovered a dead elderly woman and then when answering the Medical Examiner’s arrogantly asked question “Did you touch anything? What did you do when you found her?” and your cop’s reply was “I said, ‘Ma’m, you have the right to remain silent.’ and then I called you.” It’s just his way of coping with frequent death.

The next one is not funny – but very true. Read at your own discretion.

12. Never serve macaroni and cheese. It reminds him of a family who lost their son to an accidental shooting death. The 17 year old was shot in the head while eating macaroni and cheese. The wound was wide open. The cop will throw up.

Bonus #1: Never ever expect to get anywhere on time unless you leave 1 hour early. The phone will ring, pagers will go off, walkie talkies will sqwak, someone will need him. I’m a patient, creative woman, and can go to almost any function together, with my husband not at my side.

Bonus #2: When the cop says “It’s not dangerous, honey.” Take a long hot bath. When the cop says “I’ll be home for dinner.” put his plate in the microwave.

Midnight conversations were lively, though:

“How was your day, dear?” Softly, intimate tales were told of dark rendezvous in parks; secret investigations of the rich and locally famous; cops hiding in drug stores closets to catch a thief; bank presidents caught in midnight positions in the bank lobby, giving new meaning to drive-through banking; drugs found in unusual body cavities; not sexy, but drunken female flirting: while under arrest, they shout from a cell, completely naked, as in–NO CLOTHES ON– “Get your ass back in here, Mr. Po-leec-man!, and let’s negotiate.”

Insomnia is your companion, when one waits up for the tales from the badge.

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I first published this article on HubPages.com.