A while back, my dad sent me an email informing me that he was considering running for county sheriff in the area where I grew up. Today, I found out that he won the primary and will be on the ballot come election time. I am really rooting for him. Not only would it mean a pay raise and the responsibility he craves, but in a country where police don't always have the best reputations, my dad is a damn good cop and I am proud of him.
Truthfully, however, I wasn't always proud to have a dad that was a cop. My dad became a police officer the year that I turned 16 and I viewed this as a complete and utter tragedy. The entire population of Iowa is less than 3 million people (That is less than the population of Berlin!) and the area that comprises a 100 mile radius of where I grew up is probably around 30,000 at the most. In an area with such a small population, chances are that no matter where you are someone knows your family. Even if you try, there are no secrets.
The police officers in these counties have always had a good working relationship and keep each other informed about the area's shady characters. They also tell each other whose kids are hanging out with whose and if one police officer's kid gets pulled over for speeding or caught drinking underage that kid's police officer parent knows before the ink is dry on the ticket... which is exactly what happened to me on more than one occasion between the time I was 15 and 18.
There was the time that I was driving a little too fast on a gravel road to the lake when I was supposed to babysitting (a cheap cover, but it worked) and skidded off into the ditch and broke the ti-rod on my truck. I didn’t get a ticket that time, but the officer that came to make sure everything was alright also called my dad. After that, the babysitting cover story didn't work so well anymore.
There was also the time that as I was driving home late for curfew and I "rolled" through the stop sign at the major intersection in town. I got pulled over and received a stern warning, but when I got home (just about 5 minutes late) I got an earful about coming to a "full stop" at stop signs.
And then there was the time that I was with some friends and two of us (my cousin and I) got Minor in Possession (of alcohol - a BAD thing in the US) and the other two of us (my boyfriend and hers) got Supplying to Minors. That time I did get a ticket (and a court date and an evaluation with a psychologist) and when I got my phone call at the police station to call my mom, she said Dad was already on the way. In all honesty, I would have preferred to spend the night in jail than endure the ride home that night.
Oh yes, during my teenage years I cursed the fact that my dad was a cop so many times I lost count. We had huge arguments at home where he accused me of being a rebellious teenager and I accused him of never taking his cop uniform off long enough to remember that he was also a dad.
Once I finally moved out and our relationship cooled enough that we got along again, I looked back at his first years as a police officer and realized that it was tough for him to "leave his uniform at the door" because once you become a cop, you are a role model whether you like it or not. You can either choose not to take the role seriously and become the hypocritical cop that has a secret alcohol problem and spends more time at the donut shop than at the police station or you can become the kind of cop that wants to make a difference in the lives of people by the traditional motto of "protect and serve." My dad chose the latter and that is why today I am proud of him and think that he deserves all the prestige and responsibility that goes with the title of sheriff.
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