Growing up, my brother, Rob, was a kid small in stature but large in attitude. He didn't need to be physically tough. His venomous tongue could dismantle the strongest of foes with a few well placed lashings. If that didn't work, he was quick on his feet and could scurry like a frightened field mouse.
None were safe from Rob's verbal onslaughts. Teachers, doctors, police officers, judges, pastors, principles, and any other adult who demanded respect were all fair game. Every instance of aggression was met with extreme prejudice, leaving a stunned grown-up in the wake of a rhetorical spanking. I admired his commitment.
We Noland boys were not to be trifled with. One did not demand our respect, but earned it. To this day, I firmly believe my brother's example instilled in me a deep-seeded aversion to authority, which followed me into adulthood.
Police officers were a particular favorite mine. I convinced myself that every "pig" fancied himself a god with a badge and would receive no quarter from me. To my mind, cops were public servants so enveloped by crime fighting, they adopted the very criminality they opposed.
Case in point ... It was a warm summer day in Burbank, CA. I had just exited the Barnes and Noble on 1st Street and preceded to make my way across the road to my car (using the crosswalk, of course). 3/4 of the way across, I noticed the light had turned yellow, so I pushed into an easy jog and hit the sidewalk just as it flipped to red.
The next moment saw Officer Todd Fatta flying around the corner on his motorcycle, lights flashing in full gestapo glory.
"Excuse me, sir..." he stated in the usual robotic, monotone fashion typical of every motor-cop ever to saddle a Harley. "I'm going to have to cite you for crossing against the light." He engaged the kickstand and dismounted, whipping out his notepad.
I looked around, unsure if he was talking to me, and chuckled, "You're kidding, right?"
He wasn't.
"This is ridiculous!" I exclaimed, still stunned by the events unfolding before me. "The light was green! I was in the crosswalk!"
Fatta scribbled on the ticket, ignoring my protests. "You'll have to appear in court."
"Seriously? ... What if I don't? What are you gonna do, take away my shoes? Suspend my license to walk? Sanction my pedal privileges?"
"No," he calmly replied, while ripping the ticket from the pad and extending it in my direction. "We'll issue a bench warrant for your arrest."
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" I snatched the citation from his claw, offered a few choice expletives (accompanied by a stern "Heil Hitler!"), and stormed off. "I'll see you in court, Officer Fattass!"
And see him in court I did, 30 days later. What happened that day forever changed my perspective on the meaning of "To Protect and Serve."
After taking the stand, the judge asked Officer Fatta to recount his version of the story. Much to my horror and disbelief, the officer looked the judge straight in the eye and BOLDFACED LIED. Fatta spun a wondrous tale of screeching brakes as I dove for the sidewalk, nearly clipped by a sideways sliding vehicle.
I couldn't believe it! I thought this would be a fair fight. I naively believed we both would enter the arena, present the truth, and let the judge decide. Instead, this man, whose supposed to represent "truth and honor," perjured himself and broke the law... in a courtroom!
Fatta was excused and exited with a smug grin on his face. I, on the other hand, paid for a valuable lesson on our judicial system in the form of a $100 fine. As an officer of the law, Fatta's lie was found more credible than my truth.
To me, this was a clear-cut case of "I did NOTHING wrong. Fatta shattered his oath as an officer and should be stripped of his position!" Here's the problem... I'm not responsible for Fatta, I'm only responsible for ME and MY ACTIONS!
I must look at my part and discover what I could have done differently in that situation. If I had treated Officer Fatta with a bit more respect and recognized he was merely doing his job, perhaps he would have seen fit to tell the truth in court. Perhaps not. We'll never know. Point is, I let my fear of authority get the better of me and paid the price for it. Fatta didn't suffer from my angry outburst, I did. So, who's the fool?
A few years later, I chose to take part in a "Community Police Class" organized by the Burbank PD. It turned out to be a great experience that taught me to value our men and women in blue. I learned that Fatta was an unfortunate exception. The majority of our officers are honest and dedicated public servants doing a very difficult job. The class even inspired me to apply for a reserve officer position with the department (but that's a WHOLE other story).
Footnote: Somewhere along the line, my brother discovered the error of viperous verbal vehemence and now uses his powers for good. As a pastor, husband, and father of five beautiful children, Rob has become one of the most outstanding and patient men I have the pleasure of knowing. He no longer teaches me authoritative prejudice, rather patience, kindness, and love for my fellow man. I'm proud to call him "brother."
Police officers were a particular favorite mine. I convinced myself that every "pig" fancied himself a god with a badge and would receive no quarter from me. To my mind, cops were public servants so enveloped by crime fighting, they adopted the very criminality they opposed.
Case in point ... It was a warm summer day in Burbank, CA. I had just exited the Barnes and Noble on 1st Street and preceded to make my way across the road to my car (using the crosswalk, of course). 3/4 of the way across, I noticed the light had turned yellow, so I pushed into an easy jog and hit the sidewalk just as it flipped to red.
The next moment saw Officer Todd Fatta flying around the corner on his motorcycle, lights flashing in full gestapo glory.
"Excuse me, sir..." he stated in the usual robotic, monotone fashion typical of every motor-cop ever to saddle a Harley. "I'm going to have to cite you for crossing against the light." He engaged the kickstand and dismounted, whipping out his notepad.
I looked around, unsure if he was talking to me, and chuckled, "You're kidding, right?"
He wasn't.
"This is ridiculous!" I exclaimed, still stunned by the events unfolding before me. "The light was green! I was in the crosswalk!"
Fatta scribbled on the ticket, ignoring my protests. "You'll have to appear in court."
"Seriously? ... What if I don't? What are you gonna do, take away my shoes? Suspend my license to walk? Sanction my pedal privileges?"
"No," he calmly replied, while ripping the ticket from the pad and extending it in my direction. "We'll issue a bench warrant for your arrest."
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" I snatched the citation from his claw, offered a few choice expletives (accompanied by a stern "Heil Hitler!"), and stormed off. "I'll see you in court, Officer Fattass!"
And see him in court I did, 30 days later. What happened that day forever changed my perspective on the meaning of "To Protect and Serve."
After taking the stand, the judge asked Officer Fatta to recount his version of the story. Much to my horror and disbelief, the officer looked the judge straight in the eye and BOLDFACED LIED. Fatta spun a wondrous tale of screeching brakes as I dove for the sidewalk, nearly clipped by a sideways sliding vehicle.
I couldn't believe it! I thought this would be a fair fight. I naively believed we both would enter the arena, present the truth, and let the judge decide. Instead, this man, whose supposed to represent "truth and honor," perjured himself and broke the law... in a courtroom!
Fatta was excused and exited with a smug grin on his face. I, on the other hand, paid for a valuable lesson on our judicial system in the form of a $100 fine. As an officer of the law, Fatta's lie was found more credible than my truth.
To me, this was a clear-cut case of "I did NOTHING wrong. Fatta shattered his oath as an officer and should be stripped of his position!" Here's the problem... I'm not responsible for Fatta, I'm only responsible for ME and MY ACTIONS!
I must look at my part and discover what I could have done differently in that situation. If I had treated Officer Fatta with a bit more respect and recognized he was merely doing his job, perhaps he would have seen fit to tell the truth in court. Perhaps not. We'll never know. Point is, I let my fear of authority get the better of me and paid the price for it. Fatta didn't suffer from my angry outburst, I did. So, who's the fool?
A few years later, I chose to take part in a "Community Police Class" organized by the Burbank PD. It turned out to be a great experience that taught me to value our men and women in blue. I learned that Fatta was an unfortunate exception. The majority of our officers are honest and dedicated public servants doing a very difficult job. The class even inspired me to apply for a reserve officer position with the department (but that's a WHOLE other story).
Footnote: Somewhere along the line, my brother discovered the error of viperous verbal vehemence and now uses his powers for good. As a pastor, husband, and father of five beautiful children, Rob has become one of the most outstanding and patient men I have the pleasure of knowing. He no longer teaches me authoritative prejudice, rather patience, kindness, and love for my fellow man. I'm proud to call him "brother."
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