Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Silent Epidemic


Most of you don't know who Matthew Schindler was.  He was a NYPD cop who worked highway safety in the 115 Precinct in Queens North.  He had 14 years on the job with 6 to go.  He had a wife and three kids.  And on Monday, February 13th, on his way home to Long Island from his day tour, he pulled his car over to the side of the LIE and shot himself in the head, dying instantly.  He is the fourth NYPD officer to kill himself in the last 30 days.  Let me restate that another way, last year 4 officers died in the line of duty, which equals the amount of officers dead in this past month.

Let me be clear, I didn't know Matt Schindler.  Nor did I know the other officers who committed suicide, but their stories are just as tragic:

  • P.O. Terrence Dean, 28, who was having suicidal thoughts and had actually placed his service weapon in his mouth in front of his father, killed himself in January.  His girlfriend had called his precinct to ask a hypothetical question to the officer on the T/S (Telephone/Switchboard) about what would happen if she reported that her boyfriend was suicidal.  She hung up and then called Terrence and relayed the gist of the conversation and he immediately thought that she had told his superiors that he was a danger to himself.  He was on the scene of a car burglary and calmly removed his weapon from his holster in front of the the victim of the robbery and shot himself in the head.  
  • P.O. Patrick Werner, 23, got into a vehicle accident and fled the scene.  A rookie, he was on the phone with his girlfriend when he got into the accident.  He drove home and killed himself.  Possibly for fear of losing his job while still on probation.  Who knows...
  • P.O. Brian Saar, just 8 days before Schindler's death go into an argument with his wife on Super Bowl Sunday and killed himself, leaving 5-year old twin girls.  
Suicide is a silent killer.  The department doesn't like to talk about it.  The families and friends might feel shame and so they don't speak of it, and thus it flies under the radar.  You better believe if the NYPD had lost 4 officers to someone else's gunfire in one month, you would be hearing all about it.  The only place to gather for these friends and colleagues and family in the immediate aftermath is the funeral.  However, the New York City Police Department doesn't give these fallen officer's an Inspector's Funeral, which is what you think of when you think of police funerals (Motorcycles, helicopters, honor guard)

I worked in the 28 Precinct for 5 years and in that time we didn't lose a single officer in the line of duty, however we did have an officer take his own life.  His name was Will Joynes and his death was devastating. Like many of these guys, we was quite nice and helpful to us rookies and he also seemed to be the only person who knew what a book looked like in the 28.  I remember drinking on the night we found out, and knowing that alcohol wasn't the solution, but it was a treatment that felt pretty good surrounded by friends. 
As mentioned, the Job* didn't provide anything for the funeral.  So our Commanding Officer, DI Dolan, used his pull within the Emerald Society to get Aviation to send one helicopter and Highway to send a motorcycle or two.  One of our guys was in the Ceremonial Unit, so they asked guys in the unit on their own time to come and help . We even had a trumpet player from the 28, to play taps.  It was a small showing, but it was a family and quite personal.  

I sent a check for $50 to a cop in the 115 for Matt Schindler's family, as they will need the funds.  I found this article when I was researching this post, which is eerily familiar.  It was from 1994, when a staggering 12 NYPD officers killed themselves. Every officer has a means to end their lives at a moment's notice.  In some cases, like P.O. Dean's, perhaps the outcome was inevitable.  But for some of these, you wonder if they had a little more time or someone to talk to, if they would rush to pick up the gun.  Every cop lives in fear of NYPD's Bureau of Psych Services, because these are the people who take your guns.  And a cop without a gun is just a person.  A gun and a badge are really all that's needed to be a lawman.  Just watch a western.  
So the Job and the job exerts stresses both internally and externally on a person, which then scares them into   thinking that if they're open about their fears or thoughts, that they'll be branded a psych case and never return to active duty again. 

There has to be a middle ground.  One where the NYPD acknowledges that depression is fairly common in people.  That the shift work and brutal things one can see on patrol can wreak havoc on family life and one's liver.  To accept those facts instead of insisting that it's not their fault and offer posters of numbers to call.  Calls that might lead who knows where.  If the NYPD is supposed to be a family, then the parents (Brass) are supposed to take care of their kids.  Instead, what happens are absentee parents and the siblings looking after themselves, which is incredibly helpful, but not enough.  

As there is no memorial to these fallen officers, I'm happy to allow thoughts in the comments section.  Let's chase this out of the darkness.  Let's own it and the pain and heartbreak that comes with it.  Let's take care of each other.  The family of Matt Schindler and my brothers and sisters in the 115, you are in my thoughts and prayers today. 

* The Job is jargon for the department. Example: The Job screwed that guy and took all his vacation time because he lost his prisoner

Thursday, February 09, 2012

I'd thank to thank Funny or Die for creating this parody ad, that I think nails it. 


Tuesday, February 07, 2012

I Miss College Outrage



So while many of us were watching the Super Bowl, those viewers in Michigan were treated to this ad by Pete Hoekstra.


It's not clear what bothered me more. The broken English? The fear mongering? Or the fact that they had this actress pedaling a bike through a rice paddy, like something out of Platoon, instead of her sucking on truck exhaust in a major city with cranes everywhere. I will say that there's been a bunch of outrage about this ad, including from Republicans who clearly feel this makes them look bad as well.

However, a trip to the website was what got me angry.  If you think the video is bad, the website will make your head asplode.   Now I don't know Ms. Stabenow, and I'm sure she's a terrible politician who in fact has done similar things, see....

"According to a 2006 op-ed in the Detroit Free Press, Democratic Party chair Mark Brewer provided fortune cookies to reporters with messages that said GOP candidate Dick DeVos "would outsource your jobs to China."

But 2 wrongs don't make a right, while two Wongs clearly make a political ad.

I was lucky enough to go to Vassar College which had a really opinionated student body, that was uniquely attuned to diversity issues.  There was even a multi-cultural center, built as a safe space for students of color to go and feel themselves.   And among the cultural groups on campus, the Asian Students Alliance (ASA) were known for two things.  Great parties. Brilliant organization and political skill.  They even got my roommate who was insanely elected Auditor to look the other way while they bought booze on official funds.  Of course he wasn't really looking the other way, he was more drunk in a corner.

I want ASA right now.  To come marching in and raise holy hell.  I want the people who loved the E-Trade baby commercial to wake up and realize that there are more important things in this country.  Understand I'm not talking about our relationship with China, I'm talking about the lack of decency and civility in politics and our discourse.  I want Mo Chin, Ken Wong and Mark Llobrera* to break down the door of Pete Hoekstra's office and just say "What the fuck?" Because seriously, what the fuck.  People need to be outraged, and not just the Democrats or the Asian Associations and groups that all the media asked for comment.  But white people, like me.

The fact is that if Debbie Stabenow was a Chinese-American, this would never have happened.  But because she's white, this is apparently okay.  If I ran against a woman for Congress who supports giving money for AIDS relief in Africa, could I have photos of National Geographic boobies and the lady with the rings around her neck and get away with it?  Hells no.

I understand that people are busy and working and trying to make payments.  But indignation is free.  And everyone can afford to be indignant about things that clearly aren't right. There are days I miss the outrage that could blow up in seconds on a college campus like Vassar.  This is one of those days. 

* These fine gentlemen were in ASA, and clearly have no knowledge of any booze for bribes scandal.

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

The Traveling Hero

I realized today that I change when I travel.  Let me state here, for those who are not aware, that I'm into transportation.  I could talk about the aviation industry or US high speed rail for hours and not get bored.  There is even a film about people like me who fly for no reason but to get more miles.  So I know travel, and yet it amazes me how I travel differently.  For example:
  • When flying first class, as I sometimes get upgraded, I am constantly aware of the fact that I get booze for free.  Don't get me wrong, I love a good gin and tonic on an evening flight.  However I generally order alcohol no matter what because it's free and I want to take advantage of my upgrade.  Contrast this with the first class regulars who get water with no ice.  At dinner tonight a colleague said when he gets in first class, he considers it his duty to drink on behalf of those in coach who have to pay.  Brave man.
  • I use toiletries that I don't normally.  I'm a shampoo guy.  I go to a barber and got my hair cut by telling the lady what number trimmer blade to use (3).  I'm not high maintenance at all.  So when I used conditioner tonight smelling of roses, I laughed.  They offer it, so I take it.  
  • Tonight, after dinner, I left my group and wanted ice cream.  Ben and Jerry's was closed (Yelp lies!) and so I was walking back home.  I saw a pizza spot and ended up grabbing a slice and a soda.  I have no idea why.  It just seemed like a good idea.  
Travel questions?  Email me.  I can help you. I'm a geek like that.

Friday, January 06, 2012

Running Update

Still hate running.  I subscribe to the theory that you're supposed to get 30 minutes of moderate exercise a couple times a week.  I've discovered that the route I run clocks in at around 20 mins.  Most people would find a longer route.  However I've always been one to believe in working smarter and not harder, so I just slow down.  Now I'm doing it in 23 minutes, even with walking when not necessary.  My next step is to do slam poetry on various corners.  Or stop for a cup of coffee and jog in place. 

Self-Loathing and Exercise Apparently Not Healthy. Film at 11.

Allow me to begin this post by saying that this is my 575th blog post (I might be a little off) which is kind of wild.  I know that a few people read this and I think my Facebook linking and occasional Twitter linking might have added some readers.  Those readers include family and parents. So let me go on record with my Ramblings Policy on Parents and Blogging.

"I use this blog as a part-journal, part-creative outlet, part-venting zone.  As such, there might be things that will give you possible cause for concern.  Know that writing these posts are not my passive-aggressive way of letting you know.  If I think there are issues that I need help with, I promise to bring them up".

I add that caveat because I was reading a post from The Bloggess about her struggles with depression and thoughts of suicide at times and was greatly encouraged by the hundreds of commenters who came into the light and admitted their own struggles with these issues. I thought about my own struggles with depression/anxiety/whatever.

Lest you worry, I'm doing quite good currently.  I was running, because my girlfriend wants me to be healthier and I think the idea of not getting Type 2 Diabetes is a good idea.  Though it might be worth it if I could meet Wilford Brimley.  He seems like a pretty cool dude.  I've had a body image issue, mostly related to my chubbiness since I was a kid.  I told other kids it wasn't fat, just skin waiting be grown into.  I realize now it is like having a pimple.  The person you're talking to doesn't really notice, but you feel like you're saying, "Holy Shit!  Look at the thing on my face!"

So I would use the fat kid syndrome and teasing myself before others got the chance to became my M.O.  I'm quite good at being unhappy when I'd look in the mirror.  The odd thing is that it never really translated into me wanting to do anything about it.  I'd go to the gym for a bit and then stop.  I think that secretly I liked it because it gave more ammo to my self-loathing side, so I was sort of trapped.

Until the day came that I looked in the mirror and said "Whatever."  I'm not morbidly obese.  I'm okay with the way I look and while I would like to be a little slimmer, I'm alright with the body I have.  And an amazing thing happened.  I started running.  I never did when I hated my body, but as soon as I accepted it, all the pressure to lose weight left and I figured I'd just try it.

So I've been running for about 8 months a few times a week and you know what?  I hate running.  Bet you thought I was going to say something else.  I hate the dread of having to go run.  I don't enjoy the running part.  And I don't necessarily feel better physically for having done it.  But I do feel a sense of accomplishment, akin to me dropping off the Netflix and getting the dry cleaning after work.  And if that low sense of accomplishment allows me to stay marginally healthy, then that's fine.

So I run a 5K a year and it takes me about 6 months to train.  The one I ran on Thanksgiving was cold and I was slow and made the mistake of pouring water on my head because I saw the people in marathons do it.  I learned that you don't really do that when the temperatures are low.  Sort of affects your running.  Live and learn.

I'm going to go running today.  I ran to CVS last night to get vitamins and when I was running back, it sounded like there was a maracas band behind me.  Got a lot of odd looks.  So if you're in DC and you see a guy stumbling around or leering at you.  It's me without my glasses.  Pay no attention to me.  Unless I'm in the gutter.  Then call someone .

Thursday, December 29, 2011

A Tale of Three Christmases

One of the blessings/curses of having divorced parents means dual holidays.  Usually when the kids are younger, the parents do some sort of swap, like Dad's for Christmas and Mom's for Thanksgiving.  I vividly remember getting gifts on Christmas morning that had to be put down at noon, because my Dad was there at 12:00 PM sharp.  Ahhh...memories.  So this December, I actually had three Christmases.  Let's look at them, shall we?

Christmas #1: Mom and Stepfather

This is the house that I most identify Christmas with, having grown up there.  Generally the home is full of Christmas music and Christmas cookies and egg nog.  We did Secret Santa to cut down on costs, but everyone gets a stocking stuffer.  I wasn't sure how this was going to turn out, but it turns out that stocking stuffers are often a lot cooler than actual presents.  I got running headphones.  My stocking stuffers included Gummy Bacon, a NYC survival guide, and assorted other useful things.  We ended up giving out lots of gifts from ThinkGeek, like stuffed animals shaped like microbes and I gave my Step-Dad an F bomb.  I thought it was a pretty cool gift.  Tons of food and wine and laughs.  Oh, and the pullout couch they recently got is muuuuch better than the last one. 

Christmas #2: Dad and Stepmother

Given the fact that Allyson and I were leaving very early on Saturday morning, we did our Christmas with Mom on Christmas Eve and Christmas with Dad on the 23rd.  Generally Christmas here consists of a poultry dish, wine and then gifts.  The gifts are special, and not the good kind of special.  Last year I got an IPad charger.  I do not own an IPad.  If I got this gift at the other house, I would believe that clearly an IPad would be the next gift.  Not so much in this house.  Having heard that my brother had gotten Spanx for Men, I was eagerly awaiting the spoils from this Christmas.  Here is what I got this Christmas:
  • An assortment of Olive Oils: Not sure about why I got this.  Allyson was pretty happy about it.  I can barely make cereal, so these clearly won't be used by me.  
  • Clinique Eye Care For Men: I got some sort of anti-wrinkle cream.  Not sure again what the message was there.  
  • A gift certificate for a local restaurant: I was pretty stoked about this actually.  Looking forward to using it.  
  • A charger for multiple devices: So this is pretty cool.  I can charge two cell phones and a Kindle. However, it does say Ameriprise Financial on the front of it.  So I'm guessing this was free.  
I didn't get any Spanx though, so I've got that going for me.

Christmas #3: Allyson's Parents

Was airborne super early in the morning on Christmas Morning to the Sunshine State on a direct dawn flight from JFK to FLL.  It was 80 degrees in Florida which was quite a shock, but I somehow managed to deal with it.  :) We ate well, at our favorite restaurants, Publix, LaSpada's, Larry's Ice Cream.  And they were kind enough to get me presents also.  I got:
  • A Belt: I insist my belt is fine, but Allyson says it's looking a little shabby.  
  • A Dunkin Donuts gift card: God bless these people who understand my need for coffee
  • A T-shirt: Its long-sleeved and I think makes me look a little hip.  
I read the first Game of Thrones book on my Kindle Fire.  Don't do it.  You won't be able to stop.  It's a problem.  I also got to play bingo and eat a lot of amazing food.

All in all, it was a great Christmas.  I am happy for the gifts I got, though I really don't need anything else.  I've got health, love, friends and family.  And apparently some anti-wrinkle cream.  So that's pretty nice.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

My Christmas Miracle

Well, miracle might be a strong term.  But as a born and raised New Yorker, I often have conflicted feelings when I go home.  Both missing the city I knew and being bewildered and feeling distant from the city I encounter now.  But over the past few days I've had some great reminders of why I love the city.  However, my experience on Xmas morning really sealed the deal and made my year.

Due to cost concerns, my girlfriend Allyson and I had elected to take an 8:30 flight from JFK to Fort Lauderdale to hang out with her folks for a few days.  Those in New York, understand that flying out of JFK is only second to Newark when it comes to convenience.  Van Wyck, is Dutch, for traffic.  Little known fact.  So, we had to get a cab at 6:30 on Christmas Morning.  Not as easy as it sounds.

We finally get a cab and immediately the driver asked where we were going and whether we had coffee yet and bagels to take to Florida.  We sadly said we didn't have time.  Then he replied "I got a place, it won't take any more time.  Best bagels in the city." What a NY response.  So we go to H&H Midtown and he waits in the taxi.  Lest you think we're being gouged, it's a flat $45 to JFK from anywhere in Manhattan. I loved when he said, sometimes they fill the coffee up all the way, so take a few sips to make sure you don't spill.  And then he asked if we needed more napkins.  The grin on my butter covered chin was monstrous.

So he explains he's been driving a cab for 42 years and just retired down to Puerto Rico, but he had "anxiety" and couldn't take it so he came back 3 weeks ago.  We were his first fare of the day.  I mentioned I used to be a cop, and he said his brother was on the job in the 34 and got 3/4 disability.  We talked about the crooks at Port Authority and we talked about how he bought a taxi medallion at 22 for $9,000 that is now worth over $700,000.

It was the best cab ride I've ever had.  We just talked and he knew everything.  When the cab ride ended, I gave him a 30% tip, because it was Christmas and he deserved it.  Wally gave me a hug and cried as he wished me a Merry Christmas.  I really hope I can get into his cab again.

Wally, don't retire again.  Or retire here.  New York needs you so that it can stay the New York that I know and love.

Merry Christmas Everybody.