When I was a boy of maybe eight or nine years old in the early sixties, my father took me out in the police car.  This was when we were living in Sussex, New Brunswick and while many of my young memories have slipped away, this one stayed.  It was just me and my Dad which didn’t happen that often when you had three other siblings so it was special to me.

A Private Moment

When I was a small boy

I rode with my father in

A police car and listened to

Him as he rhymed off the

Names of the cars we saw

That’s a 59 Ford Fairlane, there’s

A 57 Chev, a 54 Dodge wagon and

Look a brand-new T-bird

I didn’t know any of those names but

I knew a few birds like robins and sparrows

Though I never heard of a T-bird

He was in uniform when he

Took me on that ride

A thrill for me because

Cops were the good guys

And my Dad was one

It was a moment between

Father and son, privately shared

I grew older, a teenager, when

Having a cop for a Dad, was not cool

I could not deny he was a cop, but I denied

I was like him; I would not tell on my friends

They included me in their drinking

And a few other unsavory things

Things I shall not mention here

Cops were pigs, that is what they

Said and I let it go just to

Gain the trust of those people

People I don’t even remember now

I regret that, because he wasn’t

Just a cop, he was my father

I was never like him but

When I became a cop

It was then I understood

How much we were the same