Screen Best Viewed Maximized Midi Playing: Power Of Love |
Grandpa Cliff was a police officer in Milwaukee from 1926 to 1952. Although he retired from the force prior to my birth, I recall grandpa sharing many of his experiences, all of which I found fascinating. |
Grandpa was an avid fisherman, and I delighted in being his fishing companion on many occasions. As I grew, grandpa taught me to clean and filet our catch. I must admit in the beginning I was not thrilled with this aspect of our outings. However, as time went by I found I truly began to enjoy and was happy that grandpa had passed this talent on to me. The vegetable garden and fruit trees he grew in the yard brought years of joy, and wonderful treats. Many times grandpa would pick something from the garden, rinse it off with the hose, and cut it for me with his pocket knife. I learned to eat many vegetables raw, and believe I did so only because they were grown and then given to me by grandpa. We lost grandpa when I was seventeen, and I was devastated. I eventually worked my way through my grief. Much of the credit for that I give to my mother and grandmother. My mother shared the following poem with me, telling me it was one of grandpa's favorites. |
The Hard Boiled Cop ~Author Unknown~ You think I'm a hard boiled cop, For not letting you go free; Well, perhaps I'm thinking of Jackie; And all he meant to me. How's that? Tell you all about it? Well, stranger, that boy was my son. God, what I'd give to hear 'Daddy'; Once more when the day's work is done. The driver was just in a hurry, He didn't mean any harm; But the sun and the stars quit shining, When I picked up my boy's lifeless form. Well, Mister, I can't overlook this, Though I don't want to ticket anyone; But I'd drive this motor through hell, To protect any other man's son. So, the next time you feel like speeding, Or passing in an arterial stop; Just pause and remember my Jackie, The son of a hard boiled cop. |
