In light of all of the recent incidents involving young black men and the police in America, it got me to wondering how I managed to luck out and largely avoid confrontations with them. Growing up, I have no specific recollection of dealing with police much at all. Of course, I was a “good” kid, but that didn’t always inoculate one from confrontation.
There a Facebook friend of mine, who’s about a decade older than I, who went my church when I was a youth, who tells an ugly tale about him and cop, a doughnut on the ground not dropped by him, and the abusive language from the cop. And he was surely a “good” kid.
During some antiwar demonstrations, I do recall moving quickly to avoid teargas, or police on horses, or the like, but those were in mass demonstrations.
As an adult, most of my dealings with the police have been as a victim of crime Continue reading “40 years ago: cleaning up after the cops”