I am mature white man.  Some who know me might joke that I am very “mature” if you know what I mean. Today in the wake of two recent police shootings I had yet anther poignant reminder why, as a white man, I can never assume that I can put myself in the shoes of young black men dealing with police officers.
Today I heard Don Lemon, a CNN anchor, relate a story about when he worked as a CNN anchor in Atlanta.  He said that though he was a successful black man who drove a Mercedes, when drove back home each night his mother insisted that he call her on his cell phone and remain on his headset with her until he safely reached his destination. Why, because she had a real fear that he might be pulled over by the police.  I also yet again heard several successful black men and women describe how they have gone to great lengths to train their children, especially their boys, how to act when confronted by police officers.  Over time I have heard other black men describe how they were harassed for no reason by the police when they were younger.

I have to admit I find it difficult fully relate, not for not wanting to do so, but because my experiences are so very different from theirs.  What I do understand now is why that is so.

As a young man I was never coached by my parents on how to deal with police officers.  While my parents, especially my mother, had the normal concerns about my safety, I can only assume that it never occurred to them that such coaching was necessary.  And when I was a teenage driver and a young adult, when I saw blue lights blinking in my rear view mirror, my only fear was that I might get a ticket.  I never feared the the police.

I did get an opportunity later to view the ugly underbelly of law enforcement. I was maybe 35 when I was driving across the state of Mississippi on I-10 and I saw a state police car pull out of its hiding place among the pines in highway median with its blue lights blinking.  I knew I was speeding because I had set my cruise control on 75 in a 70 mph zone, confident that no police officer would bother to chase down a driver going a mere 5 mph over the limit.  I realized at that moment I was wrong and prepared myself for ticket.

I pulled over as soon as I could and the Mississippi State Trooper who climbed out of his care behind was unlike any of the very professional Louisiana and Alabama state troopers I had encountered in the past. This guy’s belly hung over his police utility belt and he spoke with a deep Southern twang which I had previously associated only with actors trying to play big bellied Southern sheriffs.  He instantly remind me of the Buford T. Justice character played Jackie Gleason in the movie “Smokey and the Bandit”, except that his guy was much more belligerent.  However, I kept managed to my cool even after he handed me a ticket, not only for speeding, but for reckless driving – driving 92 mph, more than 20 mph over the speed limit.

I explained to the officer that I was speeding, but that I couldn’t have been driving 92 mph because had my cruise control set on 75,  that had never exceeded that speed, and the speedometer on my car had recently been inspected and certified correct. His response was a thunderous “Are you’ll call’n me a lair boy?!” to which responded in all deference, “No sir!  Not at all.  I just know how fast I was going.”  However, I was offended by being accused of something I didn’t do and had visions of having to pay hundreds of dollars in fines so I tried a new tactic.  I said, “I understand that I have a right to take a look at your radar set” – I had read that somewhere and had no idea if that was true.  His face turned beet red and when I saw his hands tighten into fists around his side arm and billy club, I knew then that I was dealing with a unstable individual.

However, he soon visibility relaxed and told me to get out of my car and follow him.  Back at his police cruiser when I looked at his radar set, which was still displaying 92 in big red numerals, I noticed the inspection sticker was over three years old.  Remembering the same article that I had read, I said, “Those sets are supposed to be inspected and calibrated every six months, right?”  This time when his faced again turned red he pulled out his night stick and said in a menacing growl through clinched teeth.  “Boy, if you don’t climb back in your car right now I am going to beat you to a pulp right here on the highway!”  Of course I didn’t say another word and did exactly what I was told.

I still didn’t realize just how close I had come until I was relating this story in all of its gory details to one of my friends.  He told me that an engineer who worked for him had an almost identical encounter at the same location with the same officer and that he was beaten with a night stick and spent several days in the Mississippi hospital.  It came out later that the state trooper and his brother-in-law, a county judge, had been running a speed trap scam for years.

Sorry if I bored you with that diversion, I love telling stories, but all of that to say that even that incident hasn’t made me fear police officers because they generally treat me just fine.  However, I now know with certainty that there are some very bad apples wearing a badge out there.  On the other hand I still have little conception what it must be like to continually mistrust and fear the police, and I probably never will,  but that doesn’t keep me from imagining how that would make me feel.

Police violence directed against blacks and Hispanics is a societal and systemic problem which deeply affects large segments of Americans. I am very interested in Hilary making it clear how she plans to address the blight on our society when she becomes President.   And for once can all of the politicians act like grown ups and not  make this a political issue.

Cajun   7/7/2016