Downtown fiasco is putting it mildly…

Take particular note of the one on the left

This past Saturday, 9 May, was my older sisters birthday.  We were enjoying cake and learning how to make Origami cranes.  We’re not very connected people, medialy speaking.  We look at our non phone working, wi-fi only mobiles to take and post photo’s.  We’d been enjoying ourselves, there was no time to go and purposely look up the news, which is something we would not do, nor do we have news tweets blitzing our mobiles.

My friends mother called her that evening, and I heard her say, “Yes, I saw about the cops being killed…” but I didn’t want to think about that because we were having a celebration.  That news could wait.

That news ended up being two police officers from my town being shot a few hours before that moment and being pronounced dead at hospital.  This is not a normal, regular occurence for my town.  The last officer to die while on duty was thirty years ago.  Before that, three officers died in the mid 1950s.

Needless to say people currently residing, as well as former residents, were flooding my Facebook with all the up-to-date information because, as a town, we are all exclaiming a collective, “What?”  An acquaintance from high school posted how sad she is because she knew one of the fallen officers.

The kicker is, that I also knew him.  But I only realized it today when someone posted a high school age photo of him.  We were in summer school together in 1996 and he was really swell.  Super nice, and I rather liked him in that brotherly kind of way.  I was also just thinking about summer school this past weekend, after this news was announced and thinking back on him and how I sort of miss those days and him being in them, as well as some of the others from that class.

Now to realize that he is that one officer that was killed, is just a little hard to take.  The event was sad in and of itself already.  But now I’ve been made a part of it, so it’s harder to swallow than before.

I suppose what’s even more sad is that I couldn’t remember his name, then an article states how so and so said that B.J. was a good person…  B.J.  that’s right.  B.J. looking like my older brother with his long hair and driving a vintage yellow super beetle.  I remembered everything but his name.  Even after summer school when he saw me out and about in town he would smile and wave, not pretend he didn’t notice me.  He was a good person.


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