My cousin is a cop. He’s not a street patrol officer, but a plain-clothes narcotics detective in the borough of Brooklyn on the streets of New York City. He’s a bad dude: standing 6’4” and nearly 240 lbs. of lean, tattooed muscle. His approach to his duty is what makes him so special on the streets when it comes to dealing with the bad guys. He believes the bigger and meaner he looks, the less likely anyone is to approach him aggressively, and the less likely he will have to put his hands on anyone – He’s a true gentle giant.
The morning that I awoke to the horrible news in Dallas of five officers being killed, I immediately picked up the phone to call him. He sent me directly to voicemail, so I sent a quick text telling him how much I appreciated his service and how much I love him. After several hours of silence I finally received a text back. Below is the message he sent:
“I have been a police officer and civil servant for 24 years – more than half my life. In those years, I have been shot at several times, hit in the head with a brick, bitten many times, stuck in the arm with a junkies dirty needle, spit on, had diapers full of feces thrown at me and have been called countless names. I served at the site of 9/11 the day of the attack and have watched friends die in the line of duty – even coworkers commit suicide from the stress of our job. But, everyday police offers leave our families, miss holidays and kids games to go to the streets because we love the community which we serve and the people that live in it. I can’t seem to understand where the hate and animosity directed at us now comes from. I am doing my best not to question the career I’ve dedicated my life too. Today my heart is broken. My heart is broken. But I will put all this aside, put on my vest and go to work.”
After I finished reading the message, digesting the magnitude of his words, I was reminded of an encounter I had with Civil Rights legend, John Lewis. I was next to him on a train in the Atlanta airport, the day after the 50th anniversary of the Selma march. I’m a huge fan of Representative Lewis and am fascinated by the courage of those who stood their ground and changed our country’s views on equality. That said, I had to say something to him. I introduced myself, and I quickly let him know that I was not interested in conversation and that I just wanted to tell him how much I admired his dedication to his cause. Standing at 5’5”, he looked up at me, put his hand on my heart and said in a soft voice, “We all matter. People matter.” And that was it. Perhaps, one of the most impacted moments in my entire life, and it was merely a few seconds in length.
Heroes are found in every day police officers like my cousin, and those like John Lewis who have the courage to stand up for what’s right when others won’t.
Turn off your TVs and radios if you want to find heroes. There are many around us in our everyday lives.