I had a great childhood in a home provided by two loving parents.  I am a baby-boomer.  Dad served in the Army Infantry, landing at Normandy on D-Day + 4.

I learned about World War II in school.  December 7th was a day that, “Would Live in Infamy.”   I did not understand all of the underlying meaning of those words, but I knew the meaning wasn’t good.

I remember seeing news reels in school recounting the Pearl Harbor attacks on film. It was like watching a Hollywood movie, except much more somber.

Dad took the family to reunions of his army unit each summer. The “old man” would reminisce with his buddies about life at a very different time.  Dad enlisted shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Over the years, I heard Mom say numerous times that Dad left for the army as a boy (19 years old) and he came home a much different, hardened man.

Dad was a consummate patriot. I did not fully recognize the depth, breadth and profound nature of the mark he made on me with his patriotism until after I heard ‘TAPS ‘ played at his funeral.

He was the greatest man to ever be in my life.

If I can only be half as good as he was, I will be remarkable, indeed.



I remember exactly where I was and precisely what I was doing when:

  • I learned that President John Kennedy had been shot in Dallas and then when I learned that he had died. “This cannot happen in America,” I thought. “We are better than that.” That was a transitional moment in my life.
  • I watched his brother Bobby, a presidential candidate, be assassinated on live TV.
  • I learned of the assassination of Martin Luther King.
  • I recall how I felt going to a New Years Eve party knowing that at the stroke of midnight, the Vietnam War would come to an end.

Even as a college student, I wanted to believe that this stupid, idiotic, uncivilized behavior happens in other parts of the world. But, not here.


THE AWAKENING OF September 11th

Back then, I got to the gym at 5:00AM. Not that day – for some reason, I arrived around 8:00AM.

About 8:45, I finished a set of shoulder presses and looked to the cardio area.  Every person was stopped. People stood like wax figures.  I gave it a moment’s thought and went back for my next set.

Two sets later, they remained frozen. “What’s up with that?” I wondered.  Do they think they are really doing any good by just standing on the machines?

I wandered over to see what they were so intently watching on the multitude of television sets. Every set showed the same picture. It was a sight burned into the memory of every American, everywhere.

I wondered as the news folks talked:  An accident?  A small single-engine plane?  Sure, must be what it is.

Then, WHAM!   I watched the second huge airplane strike the second tower.  The words from my mouth were immediate:  “WE ARE AT WAR.”

Second plane hits South tower


Explosion from second plane


There was not a shred of doubt in my mind.  There was no hesitation. I could feel the adrenaline rush instantly. “What do I do, now?”  My mind raced for an answer.

I quickly got my street clothes back on, considering a myriad of options. I must get home to my wife.  Kids are both away in college.  My son is 70 miles away in East Lansing.  My daughter, on the other hand, was in southern Illinois and the one-way drive would take most of a day.

I raced home.  Somewhere in the mix came the news of a commercial plane hitting the Pentagon. “Is nothing safe?” I wondered.   The flood of news continued.

The first tower collapsed. Then, the second tower went down.

All air space over the U.S. was immediately cleared.  Yes, IMMEDIATELY. The official order:  land every airplane at the nearest capable spot.  Lastly, there was United Flight 93.

Obviously, we didn’t know then if Flight 93 would be the FINAL violent act of the day. I lived in the Detroit area – a manufacturing hub. There was Los Angeles, Chicago, and a bunch of other places that we thought would be targets for terrorists.

What was their plan?  When would it end?

Americans, stood as a single people, agape at our collective loss.

The technology of the time allowed us to immediately share all events, everywhere. We saw our brethren in business attire running for their lives away from the dust cloud of the collapse of the towers.


Average Americans running for their lives


Prior to that, we witnessed others who simply gave up and jumped to their deaths 110 stories below.  We heard last phone calls of trapped fathers/husbands to their families reminding them that of their undying love.


Fellow citizens jump to their certain death


We heard the heroes on United Flight 93 as they uttered those words which will live forever, “Let’s roll!”   SWAT, SRT Teams and cops around the country have adopted those two words in the years since as their call to immediate action.

For a brief time we saw the REAL picture of the first flag being raised over the World Trade Center (see inset).  It is not racially balanced. It is not in color. It does not have any first responders other than our brother COPS. It was taken about an hour after the second tower collapsed.


The REAL picture of the first flag at WTC


As that day wore on, every American clung to the media. We hoped there would be droves of injured arriving at Lower Manhattan hospitals who needed treatment. Sadly, that was not to be.

By dinner time, other buildings on the WTC site (#7 among them) collapsed, as well.

It was clear as I ate that evening meal, that there was no huge mass of survivors.

I watched my TV and saw ordinary citizens walking the streets of Lower Manhattan. People were holding poster boards with pictures of their loved ones. They contained words like, “Missing” or “Have You Seen” or “I Love Him” or “Help me find my husband.”

The faces of those people told stories that reports could not have conveyed in a hundred years.

We walked with a mobile camera crew as they showed us a make-shift memorial and information center. It was the wrought-iron fence surrounding a small church in the next block.


Church fence covered with “Missing” posters


The fence was covered with placards, signs, ribbons, banners and pictures of pain.  Even seeing it though the eye of the camera brought a level of angst in my gut that I will carry for the rest of my days.

Collectively, we Americans saw the icons of our society destroyed.

  • There were fire trucks and rescue squads crushed by falling debris.
  • There were NYPD cars turned into a lump of metal.
  • There were civilian cars and trucks.
  • The taxicabs.












The emblems of our lives covered in the dust of destroyed human life.



I understood why my Dad enlisted after Pearl Harbor.  I was too old to enlist in the military in 2001. I volunteered to be assigned by my sheriff to a detail in support of U.S. Customs at the Detroit/Canada border.

I worked 45-50 hours every week for the next few years, because U.S. Customs was so short-handed.


In April, 2002, I connected with an NYPD brother in New York. We tinned our way onto the WTC site.  We spent roughly 4 hours late on that April afternoon absorbing all that was there.

On the now-flattened underground floor were two teams using very small rakes to sift through debris by hand. Once cleared, it was loaded into a truck which, when full, drove it away up the ramp.  An honor guard team from NYPD and FDNY waited at the top of the ramp.

If even the smallest body part of a first responder was found in the debris at the bottom, the appropriate honor guard stepped in and did what honor guards do with the remains of their fallen brothers.  It choked me up to watch.

I think it is important for me to always remember how I felt in those days.

  • I was hurting.
  • I was angry.
  • I was hopeful.
  • I felt more anger than I’ve ever experienced.
  • I felt a bond with other Americans. We were a single people.

As the 19th anniversary comes this year, I want to take this opportunity to remind my brothers and sisters to pause for a moment for reflection and prayer.

These are difficult times for America. Our citizenry is arguing and fighting amongst itself. It seems as though everyone is in a constant state of anger. We find ourselves divided into groups that fight one another. We cops are deeply loved and appreciated by most; there is a small percentage of very vocal individuals who spew hate at us at every opportunity.

Regain your focus on America and what it means to you to be an American. Rededicate yourself to defending our Constitution, to one another and our way of life.



We didn’t barter with Hitler or Mussolini.  We didn’t bargain with, appease or attempt to placate the radicals who wanted to kill us then.  We  attacked those who supported, aided or abetted the radicals with every vicious ounce of muscle that we could muster.

We will not bargain with those who are within our borders and who want to end our way of life and all that we value now.

There are no fence-walkers. There is no, “middle of the road.”   Each person is either “with us” or they are “against us.”

On the night he wrote the Star Spangled Banner, author Francis Scott Key was a prisoner on a British Naval Ship. The ship was bombarding Ft. McHenry which lay at the shore of the Chesapeake Bay.

The British attack was brutal, relentless and resulted in the deaths of many Americans.

The British sent word: take down your red, white & blue flag and the bombing will cease.

Each time a bomb would take out the flag and kill its holder, the flag and the holder would be replaced.

Dozens of lives were lost that night to keep our flag waving. Those Americans in history would not compromise on our values or principles then.

To the radicals: Be on notice, we won’t compromise them now.

Fighting through cold weather and a horrible winter back then, men were hungry and often without proper clothing or boots, the volunteer army led by George Washington during the Revolution did not waver.  Nor, will we waver today.

There were many who spent years suffering at the hands of the North Vietnamese as Prisoners of War.  Those men did not surrender. Nor, will we surrender.

Today, our patriots, from top to bottom are:

  • Just as able
  • Just as determined
  • Just as angry

As we have EVER been.

We are single people, a single culture, a single body. As I’ve said before, if you don’t buy into that line of thinking:

Canada is north.

Mexico is south.

Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out of the country.


“Above all, it’s about going home at the end of the shift … “

We couldn’t agree more.



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To our BROTHERS and SISTERS in BLUE:   We have now arrived at the time in the ELECTION SEASON when each of us MUST pay close attention to what candidates are saying. Every person we elect in November can affect our lives as cops. Will we THRIVE, just get by or will we DIE?

  • Consider the disaster created in New York by Mayor Bill DiBlasio.
  • Look at the number of cops who have been critically injured by the Portland District Attorney, Mike Schmidt.
  • We cannot ignore how cops have been blamed for the problems in places like Chicago, Minneapolis, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Austin, Baltimore and other cities where civilization has damned near crumbled.
  • Don’t think that school boards are immune. Last Saturday, Steven Lysenko of Spencerport High School, went on a tirade against police officers for targeting protesters in Rochester by yelling, “Fuck the Police!”
  • Last, but most important, is the top job: the Presidency. Electing Joe Biden would have a horribly deep, permanent and (in some cases) fatal effect on every cop in the nation.






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