<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Among the many hats my father wore during his 40 plus year tenure as an employee of the State of Michigan, \u00a0one was that of a detective. \u00a0If one ponders the skills that make a good detective, it doesn\u2019t take too much imagination to understand why I never found it in my best interests to lie about anything I may or may not have done. \u00a0I learned early on that when a detective asks a question, he probably already knows the real answer. \u00a0If that is the case, \u00a0there is no point in dancing around the subject and digging an increasingly deeper hole that one will then have to eventually crawl out of. \u00a0He may or may not have known the whole story that spawned one of these Q&A fests, but I found a truthful, straightforward explanation was the best way to fly. \u00a0In the end, I can\u2019t remember ever being grounded, but I did pile a good deal of firewood to atone for my foibles. \u00a0I still can\u2019t lie about anything to this day without reminding myself that I did become a pretty good wood piler for a reason. \u00a0If one isn\u2019t a very convincing liar, then one should probably stick to the truth. \u00a0Liars tend to have so many loose ends in their stories they never do quite tie them all together whereas a truth teller only has two threads to catch hold of: \u00a0the beginning and the end of the story. \u00a0Yep, if there is a document somewhere listing \u2018honest Flanders\u2019, I like to think my name would be there and not just because I can\u2019t keep a bunch of loose threads sorted out well enough to be a convincing liar. <\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Case in point: \u00a0I had to do detention once in eighth grade. \u00a0As I recall, the lesson diagramming sentences in Mr. Gill\u2019s English class took a backseat to general eighth grade silliness and it was yours truly who got the detention assigned (and yes, I am sure that I wasn\u2019t an innocent bystander). \u00a0Not having been tabbed as a detainee before, I had to actually ask someone what to do. \u00a0The drill was simple enough: \u00a0report to Mr. Greenwall\u2019s room after school and do your time. \u00a0Mr. Greenwall was the new guy at Graverate and it just so happened that he and my brother were former co-workers at the Red Owl grocery store. \u00a0I knew the warden, so it wasn\u2019t like getting sent to a prison camp. \u00a0An empty room greeted me upon arrival so I headed for the bus and went home. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The next day I bumped into Mr. Greenwall and he inquired how it was that I hadn\u2019t paid my debt to society. \u00a0He accepted my version and gave me a second chance without penalty, but he let it be known if I missed the make-up detention, there would be consequences! \u00a0I came, I sat, I paid my debt, and I walked home. \u00a0It was not unusual for me to arrive home later than when I rode the bus because when I walked home, \u00a0my route took me through the University Center at NMU which usually involved a stop by at the bookstore to nose around or to get a malt in the Wildcat Den. \u00a0On days that I arrived home late, no questions were asked if I mentioned I had decided to walk home. \u00a0One may note that I don\u2019t count not explaining my getting a detention as a lie, just a minor sin of omission covered by my \u201cI decided to walk home\u201d cover story. \u00a0In an odd twist of fate, I ended up doing my student teaching for Wayne Greenwall eight years later, but that is another story for another day.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A week or so later, I almost choked on my diner when my dad casually asked me if I had gotten any more detentions this week! \u00a0Gaak. \u00a0Busted! \u00a0I simply said, \u2018No\u2019 and he said \u2018Good\u2019. \u00a0Not a lot of words exchanged, but another lesson underscored: \u00a0sins of omission do count. \u00a0I certainly wasn\u2019t going to kick the beehive and ask him how he knew: \u00a0a good detective never reveals his sources and being too nosy would have served no purpose other than to get a couple of more cords of wood to pile.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0When I was seven, I got a new used bike. \u00a0At that time, the streets in our relatively new neighborhood were still gravel so we would take the bumpy ride down the stretch of Lincoln Ave . between Center St. and Wright St. to get to the large, paved parking lot at the Marquette National Guard Armory. \u00a0That was as far north as I was allowed to go with the B&J corner store three blocks south being the other limit to my travels. \u00a0The local geography figures into my early life of crime as a seven year old drug mule. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I was happily riding my bike around the Armory parking lot one day and there was a man dressed in blue overalls was out front raking the lawn. \u00a0He called me over and asked me my name. \u00a0Yes, I know we are taught not to talk to strangers, but he was dressed just like the custodian at Whitman Elementary so no alarm bells went off. \u00a0He asked me if I could run to the store for him because he was too busy to get there. \u00a0When I asked him what he needed, he said in a deep, gravelly voice, \u00a0\u201cNutmeg, as much as you can buy with this.\u201d and he proceeded to push a few crumpled up one dollar bills into my hand. \u00a0\u201cIf there is any change left, buy yourself some candy,\u201d was the last thing he said as I rode off to help my new buddy. \u00a0The clerk at the store eyed me up and down. \u00a0He asked if my mother was doing some baking when I asked how much nutmeg I could buy with the money I had plopped on the counter. \u00a0I said, \u201cNo, it\u2019s for a friend.\u201d \u00a0Back then, you could buy a pretty good haul of candy for the pocket change I had left over so I headed down the hill with two little tins of nutmeg in one bag and a pile of gumballs in another. \u00a0My new buddy was happy when I delivered his bag and I had my own bag of loot for the princely sum of riding my bike on a ten block round trip. \u00a0The red flags should have gone up when he said, \u201cHey, don\u2019t tell anyone you did this for me,\u201d but at seven, no such flags or alarms went off in my head. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Several days later, my dad spotted me chewing gum and asked where I had gotten it from. \u00a0I had stashed the bag of gumballs in my dresser drawer so I showed him. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Naturally, he wanted to know where I got the money to buy it, so I told him the story about my janitor friend at the Armory. \u00a0Once he put the pieces together, he made a phone call and then sat down to explain exactly what I had gotten myself into. \u00a0My janitor friend was actually a trustee from the Marquette Branch Prison who was dropped off to work at the Armory a couple of days a week. \u00a0In lieu of something stronger, they would grind up the nutmeg and snort it as a substitute for real drugs. \u00a0I was a little confused, but when he pointed out that the guy was now in big trouble because they weren\u2019t supposed to have any money on them and they weren\u2019t supposed to ask kids to go to the store for them. \u00a0I was crushed – now I would not be able to ride my bike at the Armory anymore because this guy would be mad at me. \u00a0My dad assured me that he wouldn\u2019t be back because he had violated the \u2018trust\u2019 part of being a trustee on work detail, but I still avoided the Armory for a while just in case he had friends. \u00a0It was a very short life of crime, but it was one of the first times I can remember thinking, \u201cHe figured all that out because I was chewing gum? \u00a0Detectives see everything!\u201d \u00a0I was trusting at seven, but not too dumb to learn a lesson or two from my mistakes and misadventures.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0If one can learn a skill by osmosis, I must have absorbed some of my dad\u2019s observation skills. \u00a0During my senior year in high school, my folks were out of town when I came home in the early A.M. from a band job. \u00a0\u00a0There was a car parked in front of the neighbor\u2019s house with the engine running. \u00a0I took notice because it was the same make, year, model and color of the car my sister\u2019s boyfriend had at the time. \u00a0\u00a0It was also parked facing the wrong way on the wrong side of the street but that didn\u2019t seem strange at the time. \u00a0I was beat so I didn\u2019t think anymore about it and headed to bed. \u00a0The next morning, there was a knock on the door of our house and to my surprise, I opened it to find two city police cars parked next door and a uniformed officer on our porch. \u00a0He explained there had been a break in the night before and wondered if anyone had noticed anything unusual. \u00a0As soon as I started to explain what I had seen, he stopped me and said, \u201cLet me have you talk to the detective.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0When I described the scene to him, he went through the information at least three times to make sure I had the time, the car make, and the car color correct. \u00a0He thanked me for my time and that was that. \u00a0A couple of weeks later, my dad said, \u201cHey, detective so and so from the Marquette City Police called to say you helped them catch the crook who broke in next door.\u201d \u00a0Apparently the only solid lead they had in a whole string of burglaries was the description I had given them of the car. \u00a0The detective literally drove around the north end of Marquette until he found a car of that description parked in a driveway. \u00a0With a warrant in hand, they had searched the place and found it loaded with ill gotten loot. \u00a0\u00a0When the crook asked the detective how they had found him, he did what any good detective would do: \u00a0he didn\u2019t tell him. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Having grown up as the son of a policeman, I have always found it easy to admire them for the job they do. \u00a0I knew all along that it wasn\u2019t in my blood to be a policeman, but I have found the detective observation genes have come in handy from time to time. \u00a0A tip of the hat to all of our peace keepers and especially to the Michigan State Police as they celebrate their centennial year. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Top Piece Video: \u00a0Classic Thin Lizzy with\u00a0Jailbreak<\/em> – the thing I thankfully didn’t end up having to do . . .