My Top Secret Mission was almost derailed this afternoon by two deputy sheriffs, a dog and a couple grams of pot I’m going to do my best to get rid of while writing this.
I’m somewhere east of Peoria, Illinois, smack dab in the Heartland. “More Than a Feeling” by Boston’s on the classic rock station and the trooper behind me has followed me long enough to run my plate, passes me slowly and then pulls over in the median to turn around. He’s County Law, a K-9 unit, and for some reason that makes me think I’m in the clear, figuring a K-9 unit is for fighting “real” crimes and not fishing expeditions on longhairs with California plates. Wrong.
I have about five minutes of free time before the next trooper’s following me and I have a minute or two to wonder before the lights go on the show begins. Seems I was following the semi in front of me a little too close (I wasn’t.) and also going slowly which seemed suspicious somehow, but I explained how I don’t like to speed when I’m being followed by law enforcement. Everything’s friendly of course - nothing friendlier than a guy with weed in the car chatting with a cop - but then the K-9 Unit pulls up and the dog I thought was meant for “real” crimes was apparently interested in sniffing around my vehicle.
This story has two heroes, my brother and my Dad, and the only downside I can think of to being anonymous here is that I can’t tell you more about them. But one of the reasons I am the way I am is because of how much my father loved the United States of America, its laws and constitution and the principles they stand for. He grew up essentially as an orphan, and America took a big part of the place where his parents should’ve been. I wish I could tell you more about what he did in return - it’s a hell of a story - but I can’t because then you’d know who I am.
But I can tell you this: about half an hour before switching to classic rock I was listening to “This American Life” and the story was about dividing a parent’s estate among many highly competitive siblings. One of the most valuable and contentious items was a pen used by John F. Kennedy to sign a bill into law sponsored by the father, an Assistant Secretary of State. And when I heard it I thought, “God DAMN! We had a pen used by John F. Kennedy to sign a bill our dad had written into law, and I let my brother have it without thinking twice! (It was beautiful too: in a glass frame with a thank you note and copy of the bill, both signed by JFK)
See, my brother and I represent the yin and yang of our father. My brother is the smart, ambitious, loves-the-law-and-works-within-the-system part, and I’m the one who puts signs on freeways because I think the Constitution says I can. Unlike the squabbling siblings on the radio, it was easy to reach a mutual understanding that care of the Glass-Framed-John-F-Kennedy-Pen-Thank-You-Note-and-Signed-Bill-Triptych would not be left to the one that was living in his van.
Anyway Dad, even though you’ve been dead for a long, long time, I just wanted to let you know that your sane side managed to save the crazy one’s ass again today, just like back when you were alive. There was nothing I could do about letting the dog sniff around the outside of the vehicle: the Supreme Court says that belongs to the Great State of Illinois. But when Officer Overlyfriendly asked if it was okay if he could “just sort of look around inside” I was able to say “No” and get away with it because I had my brother, who’d done the work and knew the law, on speakerphone.
Maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but successfully executing a denial of permission to search the vehicle is like pulling off a triple-axle in the thin-ice skating of the talking-to-cops-with-weed-in-your-car-Olympics. I went for the Patriotism-by-Proxy route, Dad… I blamed it all on you and Mom. Said if it was just up to me, no problem. But because of who you were and how I was raised, I just couldn’t allow it. With my brother on the phone it was like having the whole family together again.
I wish you’d lived long enough to see what I’m doing Dad - I know you’d be proud. But I’m glad you’re not around to see why it needs to be done.
I really, really do miss you though.
And sorry about the pot. Old habits and all that… I’m taking care of it right now.