If not me ... who then?
The Rev. (Sarah) Foulger has requested that I talk about the effect of tragic events on first responders: police, ambulance personnel, fire, communications.
I’m not sure I can speak for every emergency responders’ experience, but I can speak for mine. And I’m quite sure some people I know might agree.
Small town policing is different. Most of us live and invest personally in our community.
The things that affect us are the things that bind us — most of us know each other directly or indirectly through friends and family.
I was remarking to someone recently that there aren’t many roads or neighborhoods in Boothbay Harbor and several surrounding towns where I don’t know someone whom I could call on the phone and ask what has been happening if an event occurs. These are the nice things.
There are the tough moments as well. Sometimes you are looking into the eyes of a person who is in trouble, and they are the same eyes that looked to you as their coach for guidance from inside a football or baseball helmet that was slightly too big 10 years prior.
Or they are people who you've known in happy times, who have just suffered loss ... or indignity ... or even violence.
With our work hats on we arrive at a scene and we have our professional list of items to complete. It keeps us busy and we are all capable of maintaining composure to do the job we are tasked with. But that does not mean that eventually the human aspect does not catch up to us — days, months, and even years later.
Sometimes you are at a scene dealing with an individual who has taken his or her life, or died unexpectedly of natural causes at a young age, or passed away after having taken too much of a drug — or perhaps they were the victim of a car crash or other tragic events as seen recently — and they are wearing a coat that you know they often wore, or you remember a joke they once told, or you remember a hobby you shared. Or you see something they owned that you know they took great pride and joy in discussing.
These are the small things that return to your thoughts later.
I’ve responded to many tragic circumstances over 22 years, and sometimes you do question the twists and turns in life that brought you there.
However, I do remember, I always remember why .... If not me to do it, who then? Will someone else care? Will they understand the significance of the circumstance or the person? Will they provide a grieving family with every last ounce of effort? Certainly many people out there will. But I know that I will, I know that the emergency workers in the community who currently work with me will.
The other day I decided that I needed a break from paperwork, phone calls, and the every day nuances of police work. It had been a long few tiring days. I decided to do something I always enjoy doing: I went for my daily walk downtown that I had not recently been able to do.
And I answered the routine questions about parking, where to find the botanical gardens, where to buy lobster, where is the footbridge? Or ... where did the water in the harbor go? (People ask this at low tide.)
But, I also had person after person approach, and pat me on the back, or shake my hand and ask how I was doing, or express a measure of empathy for the families involved, as well as the police and emergency services. I’ve received texts, messages, emails, phone calls expressing condolences. What a nice community we live in.
Tragedy does strike everywhere. We are not immune. But we live in a place with thoughtful and kind people.
I want to thank the community. I don't often get to do it. Thank you for wrapping your arms around the victims, the innocent bystanders, the people who are left behind trying to pick up the pieces — and thank you for wrapping your arms around us when these things occur.
Can we temporarily remove emotion and do our jobs effectively and professionally through tragic circumstances? Yes.
Do we appreciate the small moments in time when people recognize that we too are human? Very much.
In closing ... my father died a dozen years ago.
As a child when I talked with him he would often tell me that he strove to be a "gentle man."
It took me some years before I heard the slight pause between the words. He wasn’t saying gentleman, he was saying "gentle man."
What nice words those are. They mean more to me every day.
