Fire PSA and Warning

It's no secret that we here in the Midwest got a whole boatload of snow, everywhere, containing and followed by a whole lot of wind that created a bunch of really interesting drifts.

For the most part, the snow has been moved out of the way by the City or County or State (depending on where you live) but the government is not responsible for your own personal property.

I can't even COUNT the number of houses I have passed on residential streets in my last two weeks of travel about the Twin Cities in Minnesota, that have front doors blocked by those original drifts.

Look, Homeowners, I know what you're thinking:

You only shoveled your garage door or your ailing/elderly/young single mother's driveway because it's all you/they use and is critical to you/them.  I'm the same way...most of my coming and going is through my garage door, or, well, if I had a house with an unattached garage, I'd be using the door off the driveway.

Very few people actually USE their front doors, and as such, that door in a single family home is usually very neglected.

You're risking your life and the lives of your entire family to ignore that door.

Imagine This:

One night you wake up to the sound of your intact smoke alarms, and slowly, you realize the acrid scent being registered in your nostrils, tastebuds, and throat belongs to an actual fire in your castle.

You realize that the fire is coming from a burner left on in the kitchen, and while you don't recall leaving that burner on, nor does your husband/wife or children, there it was, and it has alighted some oil that was not cleaned off the stove, and that heat caught a picture on fire - one your daughter gave you tonight which you planned to hang on the refrigerator in the morning.

Instead, that picture acted as a wick and transferred the rapid oxidation to the curtains over the sink, which set the boxes intended for the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal alight...and their contents...and spread to the other curtains on the other kitchen window, the door, and the rug you purchased in Africa on your honeymoon.

That same fire sends a spark and alights your Christmas tree, blocking your exit through the garage door and/or side door while it sets the other continuous decorations alight.

Your only way out is the front door, and you go about waking and herding your family towards the front door - the only exit.

Yet when you get there, you are faced with a mountain of snow you never bothered to shovel, even though that storm was 2 weeks ago almost to the day, and it's completely blocking the door. You can toss your newborn out through the crack, but is that a GOOD idea when he sinks through the snow and then the heat from the house causes the tip of the drift to collapse upon him, covering him in an avalanche?

In the meantime...

The Fire Department arrives and approaches your house, watching as they hook up the Engine to the closest hydrant, which they have to take several minutes to locate and then dig out since neither you nor your neighbors did so.

It takes them awhile to do this, even as they try to lay a tank line to the most accessible door, including the consideration of the most likely place for survivors.  They look at the side door and lay a line there, but realize that if they open that door, they might actually directly cause the deaths of anyone inside, and of course, can't actually ENTER there....so they look to the front door...which is covered by snow.

They can't hear the cries of the baby you tossed beneath the roar of the consuming fire. They don't know he's there no matter how loudly you scream because they can't hear you either, between the fire, the engines, their turnout gear and the sound of air from their tanks.

Realizing they have no entrance from the plowed area, they try to access the blocked front door,  and the windows...but they can't get there through the drifts and the powerful hose really just turns snow into powerful waves of ice in your front lawn, forming bars against your house while you kneel on the floor, pounding against what you thought was an exit, sinking further and further, trying to protect your children from the encroaching smoke and heat.

You gasp your last breaths as you watch the pulsating blue and red lights glow through the drift you didn't bother to shovel, and that's where you realize your children are now too late to save.

Across the Street

Mr. Neighbor a la Snowblower stands, in shock, watching the Fire Department try to access your home. He's the one who happened to be awake and called at 1:00 am, and he's the same guy you spoke with regarding the snowdrift blocking your front door. He has one to match, because neither of you thought it important since neither of you has EVER used the front door of your home but for an occasional formal event.

Yet Mr. Neighbor stands there, horrified, witnessing this sin of omission as the Fire Department labors through your front lawn to get to a door, a window, and the newborn encapsulated in a drift that should never have been present.

He watches the Fire Department labor through the stuff he could have eliminated, and watches you and your dead family being brought on stretchers through the snow, just as the light comes into the sky, and gives his testimony to the police and to the NEWS...all for want of a little flat tool that would have prevented that mass-family funeral he will attend  a couple days after Christmas.

And none of your family or friends will remember Christmas the same way again, for instead of the birth of Christ, they will remember the drift of snow over the doorway to life and they will forever recall your absence...your stupid, stupid absence.

SHOVEL OUT YOUR FRONT DOORS, PEOPLE! 

Olympics: Behind the Scenes

I'd like to offer a challenge to our local Minnesota NEWS stations.

 I used to be a Ski Patroller here in Minnesota, and loved my service there.  Without the Ski Patrol, believe me, no ski area anywhere would run. During my time, I knew men and women who went to other Ski Areas, other States, and other Nations to serve on their Patrol. Some were regular citizens, some military families.  Most were volunteer, a few became Professional Patrollers.

And then, when the Olympics came to Salt Lake City, some of my fellow Patrollers went out West to be a part of the Games.

I remember receiving the letter under the National Ski Patrol letterhead, and reading it in excitement...but I didn't have the time or the money to go. I wanted to serve my country and all nations, but I didn't have the money or the time to offer during those two weeks. In abject disappointment, I threw the letter away, knowing it wasn't to be.  Not for me.

But I knew others who WERE able to go, and had the financial circumstances that allowed such a trip.

These were regular everyday people, volunteer Ski Patrollers who weren't offered any perks for their service in the Olympics.   They had to pay their own way, they had to fork over the outrageous amounts of money for hotel rooms, for food, and they were not given a preference for their obviously-favorite sport:  downhill skiing.  Nor did they even have the time to ski THEMSELVES while in the Olympic venue! Rather, they volunteered all that they had to be placed at the mercy of the Games, and there, they happily served.

The fact that this is the reality of the volunteers at the Olympic Games, and given that this year has begun with a fatality on the Luge course, I wonder if perhaps the different networks should finally call attention to those unsung souls who help to make the Olympics possible!

Here's what I would like to see:

Portray the Ski Patrol especially as winter is their venue, then the other First Responders. Show how the Ski Patrol volunteers come from ALL the nations, are regular people, and what they sacrifice to be present at the Games, but more importantly, to give of themselves.

Tell THOSE stories.  Without them, the athletes would not be able to compete.  No one can deny the danger of these sporting events, especially this year.

It does not denigrate the Olympic Games or the Athletes themselves to reveal the very enthusiastic support they received from around the world:  the normal, hidden men and women who are ready to pay great amounts in order not just to be present, but to WORK to ensure the safety of the Olympians!

I throw this challenge most especially to KARE11 a local network, an Olympic sponsor.

But I wonder if other networks are also interested, and so I call upon WCCO, KSTP and FOX9!  

I went to both the general and local Olympics websites through NBC and found no way to suggest a story in any realistic manner.. I hope, then, that this blog post might be effective given the fact I know for a FACT  that each network peruses the internet for mentions of their own sites.

(HINT:  This is FREE sponsorship!)

Consider this, then, to be a formal request:

Please highlight the Ski Patrol's role at the Olympics!

 Talk about their own training, sacrifice, and the reality of the unity of  the Ski Patrol throughout the world. Talk about how they came to serve at the Olympics this year, in Vancouver.  

That's a background story worth watching, one to appeal to everyone, even the most average skier....and what a way to participate in history!

Please...someone publicize this story?

It's one worth telling, and the men and women I know who begin to and continue to serve as Ski Patrollers  deserve the recognition. They are, in fact, the unsung heroes of these Games, and ALL Olympic games, in every venue!    

Anyone?

*crickets*

Please make the crickets stop!  

StoryTime With Adoro: Criminal Law

It's been awhile since I told a "story". People seem to like my stories, even if they don't comment. They ask for them. And, by the way, I don't make these things up. If it's fictional, I say so up front.

Tonight's StoryTime comes as a result of two independent and unrelated inspriations. The first is Anita Moore's post at V for Victory! on the utter ridiculousness, amusement, irritants, and head-shaking she experiences (or has experienced) in Criminal Law. As, at one time I aspired to be a Criminal Attorney, and of course, saw the field from a different perspective, the following is my take in relation to her post:

Amusement: everybody who gets pulled over for drunk driving had "a couple of beers." Everybody who gets caught with marijuana last smoked the stuff "two weeks ago."

~ Anita Moore

Back in my very short time as a cop, I had to work on Thanksgiving. We had early snow that year (technically normal for Minnesota) and the roads, especially at "rural" corners, were covered in snow. It was common knowledge which bars/restaurants were having "parties" that night, and so we patrolled those areas heavily, as well as taking time to cruise our respective assigned zones.

That evening I remember confronting a guy named "Zack" (as we shall call him) outside of Champp's, a local sports bar chain. (I'm not sure if it's national as I'm too lazy to check.) Zack was drunk and was starting fights. But he didn't want to fight me and every time I found it necessary to get in his face and yell at him, he immediately calmed down and became malleable to direction. It helped that at the time he was in handcuffs.

As I recall, we let him go after charging him with Disorderly Conduct, because, in fact, by his willingness to cooperate with me he proved that he actually could take care of himself in spite of his lightweight "couple beers", and some of his friends were a bit wiser than he and desired to get him out of there. So we left and headed to the southern end of the large metro suburb. As we approached a hard left turn in one of the more "remote" heavily wooded neighborhoods, knowing the roads and turn were icy, I had no problem slowing and keeping the Squad under control. Yet it didn't surprise me to see a sedan stuck on that curve, and it surprised me less that there were four guys somewhere around 21 or 22 years of age sitting in that car.

(Mind you...I was 22 years old at the time myself. And yes, wearing a badge and carrying a gun and the authority of the law.)

As I approached the car, I noted they had their windows open and quite jovially greeted us with the air of innocence that belongs only to the guilty. These guys were really really friendly, the sort you'd want to meet any time of the day, and they were working hard to project that image.

I knew immediately they'd been drinking. (As if the car that welded to the ditch could have been suffering anything less!)

Of course, it's not illegal to be tipsy and sitting in the backseat of a ditch-encrusted car. As I joined in their overly-friendly banter, I shone my flashlight through the car, looking for evidence that the guys were still drinking. But my main focus was whether the driver had been drinking. (The fact the car was THAT FAR into the ditch was pretty damning evidence, but not enough for an arrest!)

The driver, too, was very happy to see us and as the peanut gallery in the back seat assured us that a tow had been called already, he showed us his cell phone to prove it, obviously in hopes we would move on.

Clearly they were operating off of the paradigm of "helpful cop" that would move on and ignore the obvious reality that not a single other car had managed to go off that road, and if so, they had managed to not be THAT stuck.

So I played the game, which wasn't hard. After all, I was their age! I knew what I would have been doing if I was still in Winona (although my friends were wise enough to take a cab!)

We talked a little about the weather, the slippery roads, the fact it was Thanksgiving and how our meals had been, etc. And then I "randomly" sprung the key question on the chatty guy in the back seat.

My question was focused on him because he was the obvious spokesperson for the group. I was sure he was the one telling the other guys "what to do". Yeah, I had friends like him, too, and knew that "that guy" was usually wrong, especially when there was trouble. And that made "that guy" the weak link. He had the pinache to think I was wrapped around his finger.

He was wrong.

Me to Chatty Guy in the Backseat: So you guys, how was the party at Champps tonight?"

Chatty-self-appointed-spokesman-guy in the backseat: It was great, there were TONS of people there!

I let him go on for awhile, nodding and smiling in seeming approval.

Then I said to the cringing and strangely silent driver who had long put his cell phone away, "Sir, will you step out of the car, please?"

The driver immediately opened the door, deer-in-the-headlights, and told me as he did so that he'd only had "a couple".

In appraising the position of his car and the proportionate support of his passengers, I wondered, "A couple kegs or a couple bottles of hard liquor?"

Well, let's just say this guy failed his field sobriety test and subsequently blew something over .20. At the time, MN was .10. And because our backup officers were vigilant and quietly circled around while I was "chatting up" the passengers, he was the one to spot the Open Bottle violations in the back seat.

Yup, it was a successful night.

Tonight, a local News Station, KARE11 , had a special on the Mounted Police in Minneapolis. (Not online as of this writing)

When I was in Law Enforcement Skills, I wanted to be one of them. At the time, I'm not sure that Minneapolis had Mounted Patrol, but St. Paul did and I aspired to be one of them. To me, it was the pefect place for me: I wanted to be a cop, and I loved horses and KNEW I could ride.

As it was, it wasn't until after I had left law enforcement that I finally came into contact with the Mounted Patrol, and given the story on the news tonight, I feel I have to write about it.

The story focused on their very necessary crowd control in Downtown at bar close.

Having been there, yes, I agree it's the PERFECT place, and they do a great job! There are a great number of people out there who don't realize the value of horses in crowd control and law enforcement, so I was happy to see this story, the officers, and of course, the well-trained horses that are ready for everything!

My own experience with the Mounted Police was also as a "drunk" (of which I'm still very embarassed!) However, I wasn't causing a fight. I'd left a bar, I was with friends, and in fact, I went TOWARD the officer, introduced myself,and we had a great and coherent conversation while we "talked shop" and I patted the horse.

As my friends and I left, I realized that in walking away from law enforcement, I was also walking away from the other part of that dream I'd held dear for a long time. I had loved the idea of serious law enforcement combined with horses, and of course, the PR that went with it. It was the Farm Girl in the City, and there is more beyond that.

But it wasn't to be.

Although I long mourned my exodus of that dream, I value my experience in law enforcement and am grateful especially to those officers who hold the position I STILL, in some ways, lament.

Tonight in watching the news, I wondered if maybe the Police have a program for volunteers to come in and assist with the horses. Maybe there is and maybe I should look into that. I love horses, I don't have a lot of time, but as they noted, grooming horses is calming, working with horses is calming, and having had THAT experience, well, I miss it and wish I had somewhere to go for that kind of "therapy". As it is, the programs I know about for retired horses and neglected horses are so far out of the way or require a time committment that that simply doesn't work with my schedule.

Hmmm...how did I go from snarky cop stories to lamenting my love for horses?

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I never said my blog would be organized OR predictable. Just sayin'

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