no subject, rambling post

This isn't going to be that relevant of a post. Sometimes, when you're 40 weeks pregnant, you sit down and type stuff.

The Santa Barbara PD is great. Lateral entries are paid over 70k, top out at over 80k, and they have gratuitous benefits and even a $1000 and up uniform allowance.

I looked them up on a whim, as my husband and I have looked at police departments in pretty much every state seeking a place where he could still do work he loves but actually be able to support our family and have hope of some sort of future.

When I was 17, I traveled from Las Vegas, Nevada, to Santa Barbara with my sister. My sister was stationed at the Air Force Base in Vegas, and I was staying with her. I'd come from a very small, very country Mennonite and Amish community in Northern Indiana. Within six months, I'd been all over Vegas and to L.A. as well. What a shock! I pretty much didn't understand much of what I saw, but was rather impressed with the architectural aspects of a big city and not to mention the great beauty of the ocean. The people were frightening, but I didn't know quite why I felt that way. Going from Amish who keep to themselves and don't regularly meet your gaze to hard city dwellers who talk to you at the gas pump and have too many fru-fru coffee and emotionally driven poetry joints was odd.

From people my age, I was suddenly hearing terms like "emo", "anime", "goth", and "cutting", for starters. These things were cool, everyone did it there, apparently. The farthest I actually got into the youth subculture of Las Vegas was dying my hair so I looked like a My Little Pony and buying a few outfits at Hot Topic. I spent a few evenings riding the (excellent!) public transportation to one of the coffee/tea/poetry places and thought I'd heard better poetry in my small town 2nd grade auditorium.

On a trip to L.A. my sister and I had driven out to a restaurant that was a ten minute walk out onto a pier, so you were eating breakfast sort of in the ocean, with a trendy old guy playing acoustic guitar, seagulls overhead and surfers to the sides, aqua sky and aqua water everywhere: the whole gamut. I remember leaning against the pier wall thinking, "I've made it." My mom had lived in small town Indiana her whole life, barely finished high school, and only seen the ocean once in her life. It took me a while to see that it was no big deal to everyone else, but that blue world out there that looked so free and easy, backed up by golden sand and cute shops selling shell necklaces for $50 bucks.

I was pretty bent on being a photographer so I spent most of my time, outside of endless hours waiting tables to save for a car, sitting in a Barnes and Noble sipping coffee drinks I'd never had (no Starbucks in Topeka, Indiana) and reading photography books and magazines. In one of those magazines, I saw an article on a photography school in Santa Barbara. I read more about it and then called. Within weeks I was going to an orientation.

We drove from Vegas to Santa Barbara. It was great fun, being sisters, young and silly, with loud music on desert highways. We got pulled over multiple times for speeding. When we arrived, I knew Santa Barbara wasn't like L.A. It certainly wasn't like Vegas. The homes were all huge, beautiful, and well kept. The people were athletic, tanned, and as well kept as their houses. There was a Starbucks on every corner and we stopped in at some of the boutique shops, only to slowly and inconspicuously retreat after seeing the price tags. The photography school was on the ocean, and I sat through orientation with a bunch of rich high school kids...I was the only one in the group who expressed concern in a question answer session over the price of tuition. The extravagant price of tuition, I was assured, could be covered by loans. I knew immediately I couldn't get enough loans or aid...We toured the school with the group and it was very impressive.  Afterwards we were offered refreshments on the balcony behind the school that overlooked the ocean. Goodness, it was picturesque. I leaned over the railing, nibbling on a fancy cucumber sandwich, and thought about what life was like for the people that lived in the neighborhood of the photography school, what life would be like for their kids that got into the photography school, as well. What does it feel like to spend your life without any financial struggle, doing whatever makes you feel good, having what you needed readily provided, without worrying how much it would cost you or how much your feet would hurt after hours of working, just earning enough to pay for a small room and your food?

After that trip to beautiful Santa Barbara, I was tired of the West coast. I spent some times camping in Utah trying to figure out what to do next. Go home to Indiana? Since I had discovered that my only option for college would probably be the community college of Las Vegas, I wasn't thrilled with the prospect of staying there. Besides, other than the flashy downtown strip, Vegas is not really an ideal place to live. There's really nothing to write home about, so to speak. I couldn't imagine living there for more than a year of my life and that year mark was looming.

Thinking back to Santa Barbara now, as an adult with a growing family, I wouldn't want to live there. I've earned a few eccentrically driven ideas that make me think about earthquakes and California falling into the ocean, not to mention radiation and the proximity to nuclear facilities. But those aren't the first thing I think of when I consider if I'd like to raise my kids there. I want to raise them in a cabin in the woods or the field somewhere. They should see the ocean, but not live by it's tides. I don't want manicured lawns and perfectly tiled roofs to block their view of the world. I don't want them to never know what it means to work hard with their hands. I don't know if I can show them that, but I hope I can.

I can make them mow the lawn, at least.

If only the mid-south paid cops 70k.

That would be nifty...

weirdos and a tribute of sorts

"The thing I like most about the bible is all the weirdos in it. Here's a song about one of those wierdos." -Rich Mullins

Elijah

The Jordan is waiting for me to cross through
My heart is aging I can tell
So Lord, I'm begging
For one last favor from You
Here's my heart take it where You will

This life has shown me how we're mended
And how we're torn
How it's okay to be lonely as long as you're free
Sometimes my ground was stoney
And sometimes covered up with thorns
And only You could make it what it had to be
And now that it's done
Well, if they dressed me like a pauper
Or if they dined me like a prince
If they lay me with my fathers
Or if my ashes scatter on the wind
I don't care

CHORUS:
But when I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
Well, It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye

There's people been friendly
But they'd never be your friends
Sometimes this has bent me to the ground
Now that this is all ending
I want to hear some music once again
'Cause it's the finest thing I have ever found

But the Jordan is waiting
Though I ain't never seen the other side
They say you can't take in
The things you have here
So on the road to salvation
I stick out my thumb and He gives me a ride
And His music is already falling on my ears

There's people been talking
They say they're worried about my soul
Well, I'm here to tell you I'll keep rocking
'Til I'm sure it's my time to roll
And when I do

CHORUS(2x)


My husband's department lost a very good man, father, officer, and husband this past week. It was senseless, useless death, over domestic issues. But everything I have heard of Timothy Warren's life and all the love I have seen for this man speak of that person you'd think was probably one of the ones ready to see the Jordan. My heart aches for his family and children, and I am trying not to think too much about how easily it could have been our family in mourning. Lord, have mercy and deliver us from ever facing that. I pray another MPD officer will never be killed in the line of duty again, and we'll never see the news coverage of the Sea of Blue, or hear the bagpipes playing a funeral dirge. Rest in peace, Officer Timothy Warren. I hope there was a whirlwind and a chariot of fire. 

Crooked? Or just plain stupid? *edited

The City of Memphis sent a letter to the city employees on June 30th, 2011. In this letter it was stated that the $10,000 death benefit given to a designated beneficiary if an employee dies will remain. They said the projected cost is $130,000 in fiscal year 2012. That would mean that 13 employees would have to die for the $130,000 to be required (simple math, 130,000 divided by 10,000).

Remember that the $10,000 is intended to offset funeral costs. So for the family surviving the employee, that $10,000 is helpful, but already spent on funeral arrangements.

Seemingly recognizing that a funeral is expensive and additonal help would be needed by the family, an additional $5,000 traditionally has been given to the beneficiary as short-term income. The City stated in their letter that this benefit is being cut, as it would cost the city $500,000 in fiscal year 2012. Let's look at this: If the projected employee deaths are only 13, and each of those 13 beneficiaries of the deceased were given 5,000, that equals how much? $65,000. So, um, where is the 500,000 coming from? Apparently, somebody can't work with numbers. Ladies and gentlemen, it's not hard to see that either A) there has been a gross miscalculation on the part of the City of Memphis, or B) somebody is lying to the city employees, and lining their pockets with "projected funds".

Now, let me ask you this: out of those 13 projected deaths of City of Memphis employees, which professions are more likely to see losses? Office workers? Nope. It's the police officers and firefighters. Not only is this death benefit being cut, but a 4.6% pay cut is looming as of July 1st. So, for my husband, he can rest easy knowing paying his bills monthly is going to get harder, and if he dies his wife and children will not receive help from the city and department he works for. That's a real daily motivator. I know my husband is a good man, and loves his work and is honest. But is every officer on the department going to continue in honesty when they can't pay the bills at home? When their honor is at stake, and their memory is freshly imbued in their personal financial crisis, what choices will they make? When you are in need, and that squad car comes roaring up, who is going to come into your home and help you? I can bet you aren't looking forward to a stressed, overworked, underpaid police officer who just doesn't give a damn anymore.

Thanks, again, City of Memphis. You obviously don't want to show appreciation to your first responders. When your city is further overrun by miscreants, and crime rates again skyrocket, please refer back to this post if you're confused about how that happened.

EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that the $500,000 could be including death benefit to retirees. However, I then wonder why the 10,000 benefit does not include them...and also the city's letter did not mention retirees at all.