Gov. Heehe Inspects Tornado Damage

Gov. Mack Heehe (center) gets a firsthand look at Freers Gerry tornado damage Monday morning. Here he talks to Bill and Sandra Dipson, 65 Ruby Isle (Twister Bay). Their brand-new house had a saferoom but no door on it yet; they were protected within it. “We never really heard the house coming apart,” Bill told the governor. “It just sounded like our deck furniture was blowing, scooting around. We thought, ‘Huh, we may not come out ot this too bad!’,” he continued. But they exited the safetoom at the bottom of the house to find that the rest of the dwelling was in ruins. (Sun-Times photo)

Freers Gerry Digging Out from Tornado

By Tom T. Tall / Sun-Times Staff

Hundreds of homes were destroyed when an EF3 tornado (wind speeds 136 to 165 miles per hour) struck Rugburn County around 9 a.m. Friday. The tornado, although still not confirmed, is believed to have come within a half mile of the East Side School.

The school was full of students at the time of the storm. “As of (Tuesday morning) we know there are approximately 190 homes that received damage,” said Sara Pipalene, director of the Rugburn County Office of Emergency Services. “Of those homes, approximately 30 are completely destroyed. I fully expect the total number of homes hit to exceed 200.”

Nearly a dozen businesses were damaged or destroyed in the storm, including damage to one Freers Gerry Fire Station.

The tornado, according to the National Weather Service in Little Rock, trekked over 40 miles, starting near Fowltown in Twitty County, traveling near Bethlehem in Van Halen County, and ending approximately five miles north, northwest of Costco in Rugburn County. The twister that struck the Freers Gerry area was reported as the strongest in the state during the outbreak Friday.

As Doppler radar images showed Hebrew Springs in the direct path of the storm Friday morning, warning sirens were sounded across the county. The storm was headed directly toward Hebrew Springs, with an estimated strike time of 8:50 a.m. Just a few minutes before 9 a.m., the storm veered north, hitting Dire Mountain, Pike Drive, Flaming Bush Road, Ruby Isle, Hwy 92, Western Canyon, and other areas around Freers Gerry.

High Water!

ARSOMO RR Bridge over the Middle Fork of the Little Blue River after the recent flooding in Van Halen County.

Happy Mother's Day

In 1950 my dad was 16 years old. He loved his mother so much he spent his first paycheck, from his first job, buying his mother a set of outdoor furniture. It consisted of two metal chairs and a glider. They were very, very red. They had a cut-out pattern of interlocking circles that looked like a big flower on the seats and backs.

Over the years of constant use by the family, numerous repairs and color changes were made. I remember, in my youth, rocking back and forth on the glider during family get-togethers and cookouts in my grandparents backyard. Hamburgers and hotdogs, Charles Chips, Kool-Aid and sitting on the churn while one cousin turned the crank and another added rock salt, so we could have home-made ice cream.

We'd never learn either. We'd wolf down the ice cream so fast we'd give ourselves a headache from the brain-freeze. Those really were the days.

I had so many cousins we had football and baseball games in the open lot next to my grandparent's house, without bringing in anyone outside the family. My Uncle Bill, only a couple of years older than me, usually kept it cut. (He was youngest of 7 kids and I was the oldest of his oldest brother.)

They had an old beat-up, faded yellow riding lawn mower. You had to start it using a handled rope with a knot on the end that wrapped around a pulley on the end of the crackshaft. It was a tough way to start an old mower. If you didn't get it going right away, it could wear you out.

We begged Bill to ride us around the yard on the little yard wagon behind the mower. He really didn't want too. He made up the excuse that it was too hard to start. I asked if I got it started, would he let me drive us around the yard. Bill figured that was a safe bet.

I figured I only had one shot at it. I'd tried this before and had to give up from exhausion. I wrapped the rope tight on the pulley. I put one foot up on the mower to give me something solid to brace myself against. Then I gave it everything I had.

It started the first time! Everyone was amazed. Even Bill jumped and adjusted the choke so it didn't die on us.

We had a great time riding around and around all afternoon. I was in the driver's seat with a big grin on my face. All the cousins took turns jumping on and off for rides. (There were too many to ride all at once.)

I was the topic all evening with the adults and the kids. Bill just smiled in minor defeat and shook his head. I rocked back and forth on the glider and ate my slightly burnt hambuger, all full of myself. That's when the color of the outdoor furniture was black.

Many years ago I told my grandmother I wanted that glider and chairs whenever she was through with them. I like to think of those happy days as a kid, the weekend visits to my grandparents and seeing all my cousins. There was the old house, the yard, the pine trees planted all around the yard as saplings that soon towered over the property and the yard furniture.

My grandmother gave me the furniture decades ago before she moved into an assisted living apartment complex that Bellvue Baptist runs next to the church. I've hauled them around the country as I moved with my job.

A couple of weeks ago I decided the furniture needed a major overhaul. Out came the grinder and sander. Off came layers of paint, different shades of green black and finally the base coat of bright red. The furniture had an interesting look, up to that point, because the paint had been worn down through the different layers. I had to do something before the rust completely took over.

It took a lot longer than I expected. I found a dozen spots where I took off the paint, that there were holes though the metal underneath. Out came the Bondo. No, its not a car but, it worked out great. About half the hardware, screws, bolts, pins and attachments were not original either. The family had made a lot of repairs.



I built a patio area in my front yard with that furniture in mind. I love sitting out there, like the old man that I am, rock on my glider, playing my dulcimer, listening to my little cherub water fountain and thinking about my childhood with my big ol' family.

The family is spread out all over the country with their own kids and families. I know they all remember fondly those days when the family was all close-by and got together, often for no particular reason. I know my kids would love to know their cousins better. It is a shame we don't get together the way we used to.

My sister, on a recent visit to Memphis, said grandmother asked her about that furniture. Well, I finished restoring it and painting it all. It's on my patio, now a two-tone green which I find pleasant among my little potted flowers and fountain. This Mother's Day will be 58 years to the day after my dad gave this furniture to his mother.

I am just sending her a Mother's Day card with a picture of her glider and chairs sitting on my patio. If only a couple of things go with us when we retire to FHH it will be my Grandmother's glider and chairs, and my dulcimer. That and my memories will be all I need.

(My boat is already there.)

We're Glad You're Home!

Matt made it in from school today, most of the 350 miles in driving rain.

My sister's little Nissan pickup she gave him held up pretty well. It was heavy with all the junk from his dorm room. Everything was in black plastic garbage bags against the weather and held down with a bungee web. His mom was relieved and glad to see him.

His sister, Ta'Molly, was even happier to see him than I thought. Almost as soon as he got here, she was doing a Happy Dance. Maybe a little too expressive for a 14 year old, but a good dance none-the-less.

I'm glad you're home too. Everythings a little more animated when you're in town.

Now, go get a job!

Comin' Home

The last week of school. My freshman year at The Boston Mountain Conservatory of Music is coming to a close. Finally, getting out of my 15x15 dorm room, and headed back home. This year has been an eye opening experience for me. Throwing a "City boy" out into the middle of no where alone, and helpless was probably the best thing for me. And this was evident in my last day of classes before finals.













My Trombusa (Pictured above) studio class was the most fun of all. My teacher Mr. Jarry (Ger bear) Xloan, led a very inspiring class. As usual the class begins with the Trombusa students goofing off in the classroom before Xloan makes his entrance.All of us were are sitting around, bringing up old memories that we all poke fun of each other for, when we hear the door slowly creek open (That being the que for us to jump to our chairs, and look like we've been doing something productive) Xloan enters, wearing a beaten professor's jacket (With the elbow patches) slowing lurches to the front of the room. A man of at least 62, lanky and pale, Xloan was a man that people would tend to avoid on their regular routine.As he peered into the room A look of utter disgust hangs up his face, as he scans the room taking his "Mental" attendance. We sit quietly and still as he darts to each one of our faces.

"Where in the hell is Zach Rupert?"

Zach not being know for his perfect attendance record had decided to miss the last day of class....We all expected less.

"I don't know Mr. Xloan, I heard he was out partying" Says one us

"Oh really, I guess he is a lucky one, then isn't he?"

We all look around, wondering what one liner Xloan was going to pull out of his sleeve to mock Zach not being present. He was well know for his infamous pep talks, and his memorable quotes..Some being

"Why don't you guys go ahead and change your diapers and try it again."

"I hate to insult an entire gender due to your poor playing."

"Is 4/4 too hard for you? Can you even count to four?...Good, now if you can learn to do it over and over again someone might actually pay you to play that thing some day."

To those in the know of music, These come as low blows in the music world. While making everyone watching you perform laugh uncontrollably.

But, Xloan instead took out a long, deep sigh, and said...

"Guys, This has been a year to remember. We've had many a rough patch and some how I always drag you all through it kicking and screaming.....And if there is one thing that my colleagues have told me about my studio as a whole is....That they hate each and everyone one of you"

He stood there and just looked at us, and we were in complete shock. As this was oblivious to us, that people actually thought of our studio in that way, and teacher none the less were the one that said it.

Now this does go to our studios rep as the more or less "Mutterers" or talking under our breaths about other studios. All of the remarks being negative, mostly a technique we picked up from Xloan.

He Continued....

"And guys, I just have to tell you.......I really think you did learn something from me this year. You tell someone when they stink, and you aren't shy about expressing your opinions of music to others.....And by god, I couldn't be more proud or confused at the same time."

"Out of all the things we've talked about this year, You took that away form this class"

And we all got a rising laugh out of that, and let out our remarks. We thought he was about to jump down our throats, and we'd have to hear an hour lecture and musical etiquette. Then Xloan coughed and said..

" Lets go celebrate, and take this last day to see off our seniors."

We were completely taken by surprise...

He took us to Dickson street, about the only street in the town that has some kind of value to society. There we ate some great BBQ, and listened to some jazz from a local band.

The thing I learned from Xloan this year was not how to improve my playing, which he did teach e that, But he taught me how the business of music works, and that when he voiced his opinions they were coming form a man that had been working the music business for more than 45 years. And this was a great lesson to learn, and I was glad to have had the experience.

It really was a great way to end yet another year of school.......And it really was enjoyable...

But, I can't wait to take my summer visit to FHH.

Got Shot? Why I'm Not Surprized

There used to be a huge beautiful old pine tree that held the slope of the hill below my house and spread majestically over my back deck. It wonderfully framed one side of my view of Freers Gerry Lake and Sugarbread Mountain. I loved the view and I loved the tree.

So, naturally, pine beetles got to it. Killed it and its dead branches held threatenly over my back deck and home. It had to go.

Enter into the story old Mr. Johnson. He was 85 years old if a day. A veteran of World War II, he was a wirey, proud, worn but still a useful spring of a man. An early riser and hard working man, he cut trees in FHH for a living.

I was leary of hiring him for this job because of his age. But, I enjoyed talking to him (for two hours the first time I met him) about his service and his life's experiences, which were many and actually very interesting.

My sister, Beth, who works at the FHH Utilities District, recommended him. Mr. Johnson assured me he left all the tree climbing and muscle work to a young man who worked for him. We agreed on $300 to take down the dead pine and culling out some saplings and a few smaller trees. They'd be there at 7:00 the next morning. I guessed I could get up that early on a vacation day. Oh well, I wanted to see this happen.

They got there at 6:00 am. Mr. Johnson was on my back deck admiring the locomotive bell I have mounted back there. Two young men noisily unloaded chainsaws, climbing gear and equipment out of the back of a beat-up old Ford pickup. It was difficult to tell what color the truck was. This was in driveway right outside my bedroom window.

I guess there had been no real need in having set the alarm clock. Since I'm at my home in FHH only on vacations I'd never actually used the alarm part of the clock before. It was an old used GE that I'd bought at the Share and Wear second-hand store. I didn't have the instructions. Most of the printed labels for knobs and switches were faded or worn off. I'd spend way too much time the night before figuring out how to set it. Even then, I wasn't sure it was going to go off the next morning. Is this what retirement is going to be like?

I dragged myself outside with a glass of OJ ,(breakfast) bedhead, unshaven and cloudy-eyed. Chain saws were being started up, ropes throw around and branches being man-handled. "Where'd you get that train bell?" said Mr. Johnson still studying it pretty closely. This was way too much activity that early in the morning.

"Ahh, I... One of my guys recovered it with some other stolen property. It wasn't ours and no other railroad claimed it. I cleaned it up to put on my pontoon boat."

"Could you might part with it?"

"I really hadn't thought about it. Maybe. What do you have in mind?"

"I'll give ya' fifty bucks or maybe trade a little work."

"I'll have to think about it. I really want to mount it on my boat."

We leaned over railing watching the two boys tackle some of the smaller trees. "Get the hell out of there! You don't know what the hell you're doing! You gonna get yauself hurt damnit!" Mr. Johnson was getting animated.

"Let me get down there. That boy don't work for me. He just wanted to watch. That other boy, Zipper, there with the saw, is supposed to be doing the work"

Jake "Zipper" Hammonds is a strapping young redneck punk. About 22 or 23 years old. He was very polite in a overt Eddie Haskell kind of way that makes you mistrust him and have a kid brother kind of affection for him at the same time. You know everything he says is a lie. His smile is fake but practiced. You should never turn you back on him but, you like him anyway. He is who he is. I never did find why everyone calls him Zipper.

They worked their butts off, including the old man. The other kid tried but, he kept getting in the way and yelled at by Mr, Johnson. They had that big ol'pine down, hauled off the hill and all the smaller trees cut up by 9:30.

I'd felt complelled to really get myself up for the day, with all the activity. I washed up, did a few choirs and brought some ice water down for the guys doing the real work.

Mr. Johnson, sweating and panting, was looking at the big tree stump. "I'm going to have to go get my big saw to get that stump cut down to the ground. I'll come back later."

We agreed he'd come back at 3:00 that after noon, finish off the stump and I'd have his cash ready for him.

Here's were it gets interesting (finally, huh?). I was wearing my vacation hat and not my cop hat. It's generally not healthy to be in suspicion mode all the time. Freers Gerry Lake is were I try to turn that off, for family unity and my own mental stability.

Zipper and Steve-oh (I assume his given name was Steve but, who knows) showed up again at the house at noon with the Big Saw. It took both of them to start it up. Zipper tackled the stump and Steve-oh had a stick poking at the stump, dangerously close to that whirling chain. I'm sure Mr. Johnson, were he there, would have been yelling."Get the hell out of there you idiot. You're going to get yourself killed." Mercifully it was over quickly and no one got hurt. OSHA was no where to be seen.

While they were gone I saw a few more things I wanted cut. Zipper took care of that in quick fashion. They packed up and met me on the deck.

"Where's Mr. Johnson?" I asked.

"He got hot and went home. You know how old fellows get. We told him we'd finish up here, pick up the money and go work on some other jobs.'

"Well, here's $300 for your boss. Ya'll figure out with him your pay but, here's an extra $20 for you. I appreciate that extra work you did."

Zipper genuinely thanked me, gave me his cellphone number in case I needed any yard work or trimming done, then left. I felt this twinge behind my left ear. I still had my vacation hat on which makes those twinges less noticable. However, it didn't surprize me that Zipper was trying to cut his boss out of future jobs.

I stood there and admired the changes to my backyard for a while but, still morned the loss of my familiar pine. It being the heat of the day, I went inside, fixed me a sandwich and flipped on the TV to watch Shadow of the Thin Man. I love Willian Powell and Myrna Loy movies.

At 3:00 pm sharp I saw Mr, Johnson walking around my back deck. My first thought was that he was still eyeing my bell. Sure enough, the first thing he said was, "You made up yourn mind if ya gonna sell me that bell yet?"

"I think I'm going to keep it, Mr. Johnson"

"I don't know what happened to that Zipper-boy. He was supposed to meet me here at 3:00 with the Big Saw. I saw him and that idiot that was with him a few minutes ago, up at the front entrance like they was leaving town. They hadda seen me."

"They were here at noon and cut out the stump. See," I pointed down to where the pine once stood. "They said you were hot and went home."

"I was Gaul-durn hot alright! That ungrateful snot-nose wanted me to pay him $200 and that other idiot expected me to pay him too! You didn't give him the money did you?" I should have been wearing my cop hat.

Mr. Johnson knew where Zipper lived so we jumped in his truck and drove over there. He lived in the low-rent section of FHH. Not the trailer park but, almost. Zipper was living off his girlfriend, Janette Bumpers. Her dad was a retired cop who now lived in FHH. He bought her a little house nearby and then the stomach-turning boyfriend moved in with his two pit bulls. Nice.

I saw Zipper's pickup parked out behind his back fence in the woods. It was hiden, I guess. We banged on the door and yelled out his name. All the blinds and curtains in the house were closed tight. The windows on the doors were covered with aluminum foil from the inside. I circled the house with the dogs going nuts in the backyard the whole time. I was hoping to see a little peek out of the window but, no.

Mr. Johnson was cussing like a Marine as I parked his truck behind some bushes at the end of street where I could see the intersection. "What the hell are you doing?"

"There's no other way out. We know they're in there. They're just waiting for us to leave. We'll catch them as they pull up to the stop sign and block them in."

"Well, I don't want any trouble."

"You want your $300?"

"Yeah, and those two son-sa's in jail too."

As mad as he was, Mr. Johnson wanted no part of this. We went back to the house and called the FHH Police to file a report. Officer Bennie showed up and I explained what happened. Well, wouldn't you know it, this was a major crime in FHH. Bennie had the rest of the department out loooking for Zipper and Steve-oh while I wrote out a statement.

I remembered that I had Zipper's cellphone number and called it. The ringtone on my end was some acid rock -punk-country song about drinking Jack. I left a message and Zipper called me right back. I asked him sweetly,"Did you forget something?"

"Uhh, what?"

"To give Mr. Johnson the $300?"

"That old son-of -a-," he continued on a tirade of foul langage and denunciation for 10 minutes. The gist was that they had not pre-arranged what Zipper's cut was to be. He felt that Mr. Johnson was going to short him despite the fact that they had not actually discussed it.

"Well, I gave that money to you to give to Mr. Johnson. Since you did not give it to him I'm going with Mr. Johnson to swear out an affidavit with the DA in Hilery in the morning."

This prompted another 10 minute explosion of accusatory nonsence from Zipper.

I responded, "Here's the deal. Bring the money back or go to jail. Money. (or) Jail. You decide."

Long story short (yeah, right) Zipper said he'd be right over. He was 5 minutes away. Twenty minutes later I called him, "Did you forget something?"

"What?" I thought I heard a little attitude in his voice.

"Did you forget to drive over here and give Mr. Johnson the money? Money? (or) Jail?"

"I'll be right over."

Zipper and Steve-oh showed up 20 minutes later. Maybe it did take longer than all of us thought.

What happened next was right out of an episode of Jerry Springer. Zipper went after Mr. Johnson, right in the middle of the street. Officer Bennie was trying to control the situation by dangling a pair of handcuffs. John-boy, a tall muscular 300 good-ol-boy and county lineman who works for Mr. Johnson, on the side, doing tree-triming, jumped in verbally to defend him. Beanpole that he was, Zipper threatened to whip his butt but, was held back by some phantom person. My next door neighbor (and FHH darts champion) was ready to jump in and Steve-oh was egging Zipper on, seated safely in the passenger side window of the truck.

Mr. Johnson politely explained that he didn't fight island to island in the Pacific killing Japs to have to put up with this crap. (This is, of course, the censored and condensed version.) Officer Bennie now had his hand on his gun and was looking at me like "What do I do now?"

I pulled Zipper aside,"Here's what Officer Bennie can't tell you, so let me make this easy for you one more time. It's give the money back or go to jail. Why don't you just give the money back to me, instead of Mr. Johnson, and this will all go away."

Zipper's Eddie Haskell impression kicked in, "You've been straight with me all along Mr. Gonzalas. I'll do it because you asked me to but, that's the only reason."

(Whatever)

Zipper handed me the $300. Withtout a break in movement, I handed it directly to Mr. Johnson. Steve-oh yelled something again about his cut and Mr. Johnson refered to him as a useless something or another. The Jerry Springer show had returned from commerical break.

I walked into my house. My job was done and I felt better about not having had my cop hat on earlier in the day. I figured it was time to take it off again. After all, I was on vacation and the lake was calling. Officer Bennie was calling too - for backup.

A couple of months later I was back home in Texas when my sister called. "You'll never guess. Zipper's been shot."

"Why am I not surprized?" I'm sarcastic like that.

"Turns out he had been extorting money from the old man who owns the hardware store over in Laverne for the last six months. Zipper hit him up for money one too many times and the old man shot him point blank with 00 buck. He's in intensive care and apparently paralized from the waist down."

"Oops"

"Oh. it gets better. The reason he he was able to squeeze money out of the old man? He didn't want his wife to find out he and Zipper had been together."

"Together. You mean...."

"Yes." The finality of how she said it told me all I needed to know. (Actually, more than I wanted to know.)

"That's going to be tough. Doing state time in a wheelchair with that rep."

"An opportunity to make new friends!" My sister is so sassy.

"Again, oops," was all I could think to say.

A nice little postscript to this is that Steve-oh was stopped by Arkansas State Troopers after a high-speed chase through Hillery and Cees Branch last week. On top of everything else, Steve-oh had a mini-Meth lab in the back of his truck. Maybe eventually he and Zipper can be cellmates.

FHH Lighting 12, Laverne Lady Colts 9

In one of the most exciting softball matches of the Spring, the FHH Lighting soundly defeated the Laverne Lady Colts in a slugfest 12 to 9. The Lightings' thirdbase and lead-off batter, Ta'Molly Gonzolas had 5 hits and 8 RBIs.

Miss Gonzolas, one of the team leaders, said, "We just took what they threw at us and moved ahead one base at a time." When asked what the key to their victory was, Miss Gonzolas again wasn't bashful, "We just taunted the pitcher and catcher the whole game with our base-running. We took big leads and they never knew when we were actually going to steal a base. The pitcher was more worried about looking over her shoulder than throwing a good pitch and the catcher knew if she didn't pull in the bad pitches we were going to steal home. We wanted it more than they did."

Ta'Molly and her buddy, Candice McFarlin (the other half of the Dynamic Duo) who plays shortstop, were seen laughing throughout the game. "We just laugh at nothing, stupid jokes, the umpire and our parents," said Miss McFarlin.

The 1st inning was all Number 9 as Miss Gonzolas threw out the all three batters at first on in-field grounders. "I guess they know better than to hit to third base now!" said one parent watching the game.

Miss McFarlin, who also pitches, gave the crowd a thrill with an unbelievable catch of a line-drive right in front of second base. She turned it into a double-play with a throw to first. It was so quick the Umpire had to tap the opposing player on the shoulder at second base to tell her she was out.

When asked if she really said,"Put on your big girl sliding pants or go home?" Gonzolas just shrugged and said,"Moi?" Miss McFarlin just laughed.

FHH Police Report

FHH Police responded to a fight last night at the Batter's Cage. Two nuts were engaged in heated arguement over the bar tab. One nut was a salted.

Getting Proper Feedback

One of the guys that works for me is a former Memphis cop. His name really is Ed Fedrick. I use his real name because there is no one else like him.

Ed is a Vietnam vet, two tours - because he enjoyed the first one so much. He is a legend in Memphis. Ed was already a veteran officer and had two Purple Hearts by the time I started as a rookie cop in Memphis. He has six Purple Hearts, 3 from Vietnam, 2 from Memphis PD and 1 from the UP Railroad Police. He is like Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon II where he shows off his wounds and scars to his new girlfriend.

It is odd now that he works for me now as a Territory Special Agent for the railroad. Some of the rookie Special Agents are a little skeptical of his war stories and often ask gently, if he was exaggerating. The stories are so wild but, every one of them and every detail is true. I was there for a couple of them.

Ed is an eater too. How he can eat that much and not get fat is a scientific mystery. In Longview, Texas is a great BBQ place called Bodacious Barbeque. On the big board is the "Ed Fedrick Special," a quadruple order of ribs, a large tea and banana pudding.

Being his supervisor, considering his legendary status and experience, is a challange. Ed is all military. Big Red One! (First Infantry, U.S.Army.)

He went back to Vietnam on a soldier's tour a few years ago. On one of the plains where several large battles were fought, a group of American vets were met by a North Vietnamese Army general. The general mentioned that he had battled during the war on that very spot. So had Ed. The general said gravely that he had lost a great many men in this place.

The general later pulled Ed aside and told Ed in broken English, "I noticed you did two tours of service in Vietnam. Why?"

"Two things, sir. I was very good at my job and with all due respect, I loved doing my job."

The general did not talk to Ed again. Ed also didn't get one of the little gift baskets the rest of the vets got when they left two days later. "Oh, well." said Ed.

Its a little tough, with any effectiveness, supervising Ed when he pulls that, "With all due respect, sir. F__k you!" on me. What are you gonna do?

We do have pretty effective interpersonal communications.

Back when Ed and I were both on the Memphis Police Department, he knew my family. Most them were on the police force. My dad was a lieutenant and my uncle was undercover in Vice. Ed thought my dad was the best lieutenant in the world. He could do no wrong. My uncle was another story. Ed considered him an errogant, stuck-up, egotistical and a back-stabbing snake-in-the-grass. (and that's the short and censored version.)

"You know, Jim, you're the best Captain on the department." Ed will often tell me. He knows I know, he thinks every other Captain on the department is incompetent, ignorant political hack. (also short and censored) It ain't saying much.

I do know I'm doing okay when I hear Ed tell me, "You know, you're a lot like your dad today."

On the other hand, in addition to the With all due respects, if Ed says, "Jim, you're getting to be like your uncle lately," I know I'm not doing so hot in his eyes.

I like better knowing, without doubt, where I stand.

I have some sharp young guys working for me. Some really good cops, good tacticians, strong, stout guys that can handle themselves. However, if I had to pick one guy to walk down a dark alley with, knowing we were going to run into some really serious s--t, Ed is the guy I'd want with me.

No matter what, whatever happens, Ed would be there, period. We'd get out of it somehow and somebody, probably more than one and probably including us, is going to bleed.

I like better knowing where I stand.