My Dumb Observations

From a cultural perspective, America is a peculiar nation. Without the richness of millennia to draw from or many shared borders to influence us, America manages to hold her own. Similar to the old-timey days, we just do things differently here. On the world stage, however, many nations find America less entertaining, viewing us as a spoiled bully still in diapers. Perhaps true, but the United States attracts players from around the world, forming the greatest expansion team in history. And with all those cultures in the mix, America proudly displays her combined greatness. For better or worse, we also do a robust job projecting ourselves as a libido-driven, virus spreading, collection of binge drinkers. America has also reimagined some practices to the benefit of democracy worldwide. Ancient Pagans would wish to carry the candy basket of any American kid on Halloween, and no Inuit festival can warm the feet of a reveler at our Groundhog Day or polar plunge celebrations. And look what ...

Odd thoughts come to mind while reflecting on the passing of a friend one year ago. Some believe not everyone is called to be on the planet a long time. Of course, whenever a person in his early 50's passes, it's hard to avoid thoughts of "too soon." But Howie was an outlier. Both personally and professionally, Howie sailed rogue in a world divided by labels, conjuring his Brooklyn birthright to adapt in anyone's company. Nicknamed Triple H by fellow cops, he could be observed clocking out from a double shift with little sleep, or brown-baggin' a beer with flag waving colleagues, or seen donning a helmet to ride with his crew of urban motorcycle enthusiasts, often in the same day! Super cool, Howie's persona fit the stereotype of his appearance; like a lab-made hybrid of Barry White and Issac Hayes without the velvet notes or Kung Fu moves, but that never stopped him. Always the quiet charmer, Triple H would head back to his locker after roll call to spor...

Growing up in New York City during the bad old days was a wild ride. From the 1960's through the 1990's, a perfect storm amassed, creating a calamity of conditions that would erode the city. Of course, people living through those declining decades can compare notes as to when the Big Apple had rotted most- and they all have merit. The 60's saw profound institutional racism, record unemployment, and inner city riots. The 70's added a crippling financial crisis and urban decay to the recipe. Then 1980's witnessed rapid flight and a declining tax base, combined with exploding street crime, crack cocaine, and the AIDS crisis. The simmer  would then boil over, culminating in the 1990's when murder, drugs, mayhem of every flavor, and a malaise of government services would embrace Mayor Rudy Giuliani charging forward with a plan for change. Giuliani's recalibration of city services, and redeployment of the NYPD would eventually swing the pendulum back toward civili...

I hate Christmas. The fake spirit, the phony joy, it’s all a big farce. As a kid, when Santa Claus was motivating, I looked forward to the seasonal customs, but was always suspicious of how Santa operated. On Christmas Eve, my parents would encourage my brother and I to “go to bed” because Santa would not arrive with people awake. Then they would stay up with a houseful of guests celebrating the holiday Italian style -drinking jugs of wine, smoking cartons of cigarettes, eating seafood, and carrying on till sunrise- while we listened and choked on the fumes atop the stairs. Christmas morning we would drag my parents out of bed. Hung over and exhausted, my father would set up the old 8 millimeter camera, flood the room with studio style lighting, and blind his children while capturing silent films of us tearing into an overabundance of gifts. We truly were blessed. We always received what we wanted, and as an added bonus, my brother often had more fun playing with the ...

The Manhattan bound train is empty as it lurches forward and begins its midnight journey out of Coney Island. Winter winds whip through the train as passengers slowly board at every elevated station. Most are headed to a night shift job or New York night out. My police radio is dead silent. With only one year on patrol I have yet to learn the best crime fighting efforts do not come from police executives or politicians, but from the tendencies of Mother Nature. My assignment to late night train patrol was precipitated that winter by a ‘lush worker.’ He was cutting open the pockets of sleeping passengers to remove personal items while they slept. The crime is not atypical for the hour or area, and the eyewitness description of the perpetrator was a black male 18 to 30 years old wearing a black jacket, black jeans, and armed with a box cutter. My platoon had been briefed numerous times about the robbery pattern, and with rookie ambition we certainly generated many stop and frisk reports...

Commissioner Bill Bratton's sudden departure from the NYPD could not have come at a worse time for the people of New York. Sought by Mayor de Blasio as the most tempered, experienced, and fair minded executive in policing, Bratton seemed a perfect fit for the controversial job. Following on the heels of Raymond Kelly, and twenty years of republican rule in New York City, both the distressed citizens and the demoralized cops in the Big Apple embraced the change. But the New York of today is a vastly different place from when crime and disorder dominated the political landscape. Some critics single handedly blame Bratton for lighting the fuse which led to the dissatisfaction people feel toward the police today. After all, William Bratton popularized the scientific management of policing. By strengthening law enforcement tools like crime mapping and targeted enforcement, Bratton's initiatives modernized how the police interrupt criminal behavior around the world. As crime ...

Enough already with thinking the police WANT to stop and frisk minorities. Reading media accounts of those stopped, one would think the police were frenzied cowboys running amok. Some articles suggest the police are financially compensated for stopping young black men and secretly rewarded for violating the rights of others. Of course the NYPD is not without fault for creating adverse reactions in many communities, but the overall issue needs a common sense middle ground. As a lifelong Brooklyn resident and a police officer, maybe a different perspective is in order. I haven’t been a frenzied pig my whole life, but I have been stopped and frisked more than most. In fact, during my adolescence I’ve probably been “tossed” more than all the New York columnists combined, yet I never came away with any more negative feelings for the police than I have today. Growing up on the streets of Brooklyn, I was associated with a large, loud, and disorderly group. We did not have community recr...