the good policeman

the good policeman

fiction
edward w pritchard

I was just watching, observing. A baby girl was learning how to talk and the very young Grandfather was fascinated and brimming with desire to share the miracle with the world. He told the policeman he had four grandchildren. I heard that part.

The baby girl's Mother had left her with her Father while she went from McDonald's, where I was here, to Target, to get a wedding gift for her friend. I heard that.

The crowd at the play area at McDonald's all had their own children of various ages. They politely listened to the baby girl saying her few new words. The baby had a lot of personality. She noticed the other kids had their shoes off and wanted to take hers off too.

The policeman had his uniform on but I don't think he was on duty. He just happened to be there at McDonald's. He spent about five minutes listening to the baby talk and drew me into the conversation, introducing me and the grandfather, neither of who he knew five minutes ago.

About two years later I was substitute teaching at an inner city school in my home town. I was in a class room on a break, a planning period, and I heard someone lecturing a kid in the hall who was cutting class and didn't have a pass. The adult lecturer was direct with the kid but caring and kind also.

When the adult lecturing the kid walked past the door of the room I was in, I saw it was the same policeman, in uniform, from the McDonald's two years ago. Later I walked up to him in the halls and said hello.