Proverbs 13, Verse 6
"A man's goodness helps him all through his life,
while evil men are being destroyed by their wickedness."
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CHIPPED WISDOM:
People like to begin things-- chapters, personal essays, memoirs, term papers, prophylactic wrappers-- with quotes. Some people favor quotes by MLK, Jr or Gandhi, others like Thomas Jefferson or Ben Franklin. Some people like to quote movies. There's probably few people, though, who start things with quotes from movies featuring Sylvester Stallone, and fewer still who, if they did, would choose "Copland".
Fortunately for you, I'm different, and not just different for the sake of being different. Not always, at least. I happen to like "Copland" and there's a great quote spoken by the actor Ray Liotta. Well, he doesn't exactly speak it as much as scream it in a cocaine-fueled roar,
"BEIN' RIGHT IS NOT A
BULLETPROOF VEST, FREDDY!"
And how.
For people who haven't quite caught on to that idea, it can be, admittedly, quite a shock when you're called on the carpet for doing something "right", even if you've seen it coming. And I saw it coming, and I did what I did anyway. I did something that I thought was going to help keep people I love safe. I did something that was definitely knee-jerk, definitely reactionary, definitely impulsive, but I did it out of love and because I know, in my heart of hearts, that it was the right thing to do. Only thing is: none of that matters.
See, I have yet to grow up. And I guess, when I grow up, I'll learn to be political. I'll learn to gauge how I'll be perceived, how people will "take" something. I'll learn perspective-taking. I'll learn to massage and finesse and be deliberate and calculating. I'll learn to let things take their course and I'll learn to keep my head down and I'll learn to sit and beg and roll over and play nice and play dead and play fetch and all the rest of it.
Now, all I have is my moral compass, and it's working just fine. I just can't look at it anymore. Not for a while anyway. It gets me into trouble. And I don't get into trouble at work. It's not my style. It's not my thing. For three years I managed to smile and joke my way into people's hearts. And now that I'm actually doing things, it's not working out so well.
It's not so good.
And I can't just shut my goddamned mouth and go along with the program because, quite honestly, sometimes the program isn't very nice and it isn't very good and I've always been someone who throws down a flag. I should have been a fucking referee, but I don't know anything about sports. I know when someone's being a bad boy, though.
I know that well enough.
I also know that bein' right is not a bulletproof vest, and yet I content myself to walk directly into gunfire, my head up, my eyes clear and unafraid, because I think that something or someone will save me. Maybe my goodness will save me. People think I'm "good." Do I have enough goodness? Enough cred? Enough cache? If I check in with someone else first, if I wait 24 hours-- if I can just do that-- if I can hold on.
Breathe.
Wait time.
Let the anger subside.
Let the tide roll in.
Let the George Winston CD play.
Let the lights go down.
But I'm still here. Still here with the same ethical dilemmas crashing and pounding and burning in my head. And I have to do something.
Me?
Why.
I don't know. I don't know why. It's just always felt like that. I guess, if I couldn't be a real police officer, I'll be a moral police officer. A zealot. A crusader. Someone to wave a banner and save a manatee and be a thorn in the side of the people with flags in their offices. Be somebody's hero.
Anybody's.
I'll take anybody. Anybody who'll have me.
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