By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

A few days ago, I loaded two of my grandsons, Tristan and Sam, into the car and headed off to McDonald's for lunch, followed by a stop at the local pet store. On the drive back home, Tristan, who will be six this month, said, "Sam and I know what we want to be when we grow up."

"Really?" I replied.

"Yep," said Tristan. "Isn't that right, Sam?"

"That's right!" responded four-year-old Sam.

"And just what is it you both want to be?" I queried.

"We want to be police officers!" they both cried in unison.

I shouldn't be surprised, really. My wife and I have three sons and all of them are currently in uniform serving their communities or their nation.

Jason, the oldest at age 29, is a sergeant for the Peachtree City Police Department. James, the youngest, at 20, is a senior airman serving with the United States Air Force.

John, 27, the father of the two boys in my car on the way home from McDonald's, serves as a patrol officer, working morning watch, the midnight shift, for the Senoia Police Department. Its only natural that small boys would look to their uncles and father as heroes and desire to emulate them.

"So," I asked, "why do you want to be police officers?"

It was then that Tristan became as serious as a nearly six-year-old boy can be. "You know that Daddy works all by himself, don't you?"

I was, indeed, aware that, most of the time, John patrolled the streets of the small town of 1,700 alone, although back-up was available by calling on the Coweta County Sheriff's Department. The town, served by a chief, a lieutenant, and four patrol officers, is typical of many of the communities in the South. So I replied, "Yes, I know that."

"Well," he said, "Sam and I want to become police officers so that we can work the same shift as Daddy so he won't have to be by himself."

As I looked as Sam, he was nodding affirmatively, as seriously as a four-year-old can nod.

The city of New York has just under 40,000 police officers on the streets, nearly three times the number of cops as the second largest police force, which is Chicago. However, it is a little known fact that, in the United States, there are some 800 jurisdictions that employ but a single police officer a one-man police department.

Even Mayberry had a sheriff and a deputy. Of course Andy and Barney had very little crime to fight and Otis, the town drunk, conveniently locked himself up when he consumed a bit too much of the hard stuff.

The truth is that Mayberry doesnt exist. There are bad people in every hamlet and crime occurs in the smallest of villages. It is also a little known fact that most of the officers who die in the line of duty are not from the New Yorks or the Chicagos of the nation, but from the small jurisdictions.

Part of the reason for that terrible fact is that big-city cops receive a great deal of training and equipment while small town officers are usually under-equipped, under-manned, and under-trained. In most cases, they are under-paid as well. But another significant reason why police may be safer in a city like New York than in Podunk, Alabama is that there is normally plenty of assistance available should trouble arise.

In Peachtree City, for example, which employs some 50 officers, not a large department by any stretch of the imagination, an officer in trouble can expect back-up to arrive in two minutes or less. Often, large cities require officers to patrol with another officer, providing instant back-up.

In the small town, especially in those 800 jurisdictions patrolled by one officer, in the true-life Mayberrys of the nation, back-up can be 20, 30, or more minutes away. Small town policing can be lonely and extremely dangerous.

As I looked into the bright eyes of my nearly six-year-old and just turned four-year-old grandsons, I was pleased that they wanted to be like their daddy but saddened that, already, they know too much of the real world.

That night, as they stayed with me after their dad went to work, I told them that they didn't have to wait until they grew up to help daddy.

That night we prayed for the safety of their daddy, their uncles, and for all who serve in those lonely and dangerous places, keeping the sleeping citizens of the nation safe from the evil ones who also prowl in the dead of the night.

[David Epps is Rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in Peachtree City. He is also a certified peace officer and a Certified Master Chaplain. He may be Contacted at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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