Uh Huh and Darrell

Darrell's Barber Shop was located at Dorian and Broxon for many, many years. Darrell was a large man with small conversation. He was a former Marine and an avid golfer. Both avocations were very apparent in the decoration and magazines in his shop. When Darrell died, 7 or 8 years ago, there was a large turnout of cops and Marines at his graveside services. I still have not found another barber and make my poor wife cut my hair.

I am sure it's no surprise to most that women and men have much different feelings about hair and haircuts. I have found women are much more emotional about the subject.

The first time I took my oldest son, Arthur, to Darrell's he was a young lad in 7th or 8th grade. My wife spent much time giving Arthur directions and instructions on how to have Darrell cut his hair in much detail. I had to hide my grin during the verbal hair briefing.

Art and I drove to Darrell's and waited for a couple of guys who were ahead of us in line. I have no doubt Art observed the interaction between Darrell and his customers. When it was his turn, Art jumped up in the barber chair.

Darrell said, "Little shorter..?" Arthur said, "Uh huh...". The hair cut took barely longer than the verbal exchange. I laughed silently the whole time while greatly enjoying the smell and feel of the barber shop, always a peaceful sojourn. I still feel the alcohol on my freshly shaved neck from going to Darrell's.

Darrell...I miss you and your generation.

Lilacs and Roses...Dippety Doo...

One late warm summer night, Corporal Ron "The Sandman" Axtman and I were dispatched to an apartment complex across the street from the College of Southern Idaho. (Ron had the nickname due to the knack of being able to "put people to sleep" very fast using a lateral vascular neck restraint. That is another story...)

The report was of a female who had made unlawful entry into the apartment of a "just arrived in town" male professor. We arrived and made contact with a very red-face, irate middle aged professor. He said he had just moved into the studio apartment this date. As he was unpacking, the front door swung open and a well-dressed female came into his apartment. She began to disrobe as she walked through the apartment, clearly inebriated, until she reached the bed. Having only her brassiere left covering her body, she climbed into the bed and promptly passed out. "The Sandman" and I had a very hard time keeping a straight face while hearing about the man's predicament. The professor did not share our humor at all.

I checked her purse and found a drivers license showing the address we were currently in. She also had a school I.D. showing she was a 25 year old teacher in the nearby grade school. The teachers had settled their strike earlier in the day and it was clear this teacher had done some celebrating.

We decided to try to wake her up and tried everything we could think of while dealing with an almost nude female. The teacher suddenly got up and strode to the doorless closet by the front door where she relieved her bladder. It sounded like a cow urinating on a flat rock. The female then took off her brassiere and climbed back into the bed. "The Sandman" and I could not contain ourselves and we burst into laughter. We were too amazed to think about ?grabbing? her at the time. The professor did not find the situation funny at all and angrily asked for us to act quickly.

Suddenly we heard a grumble behind us and we turned and saw Captain Roy Lindell standing inside the doorway behind us. Captain Lindell said, "Whaddya got...?" (Captain Lindell always used this greeting and we knew it well). We explained the delicate situation to the Captain and he scowled. Captain Lindell had worked the rough streets when the "speak easys" and the bordellos ran wild in Twin Falls.

Captain Lindell strode across the room and grabbed the slumbering teacher by the ankles and tossed her into the middle of the room. The action was so quick and her landing so soft, due to the Captain's raw strength, that "The Sandman" and I stood dumbfounded and frozen by the action. The teacher got up and groggily crawled right back into the bed. Captain Lindell again grabbed the teacher by the ankles and tossed her on almost the same carpeted spot. She again landed very softly with little impact. Amazing.

At this point, "The Sandman" and I could take no more and Ron gathered the teacher in the bed sheet and hustled her from the apartment. I grabbed underwear, clothing and purse and scrambled in the wake of the escaping duo. Halfway to the car, the teacher gained enough of her senses to stare at me and then at "The Sandman". Although I was in full uniform, she verbally expressed her surprise that, "He's a cop..!!!" referring to Ron. I agreed that he, in fact, was a cop.

We finally found the teacher's new apartment about blocks away. After making sure she was safely inside, we drove away with a sigh of relief. Suddenly, over the police radio, we heard Captain Lindell's gruff growling voice saying, "Lilacs and roses...dippety doo...".

Captain Roy Lindell

Captain Roy Lindell is a true legend. Captain Lindell's picture is by the definition in Webster's dictionary next to "tough". He served in WWII in the 82nd Airborne and jumped into enemy territory twice, once in Italy and again into France. His regiment, the 504th, was nicknamed by the Germans "The Devils in Baggy Pants". Captain Lindell served on the Twin Falls Police Department for over 40 years and worked graveyard shift, as the Captain/assistant chief, for 35 years. He was tough as nails but bled blue for his fellow uniformed lawmen. Captain Lindell was a cross between Dirty Harry and Karl Malden in "The Streets of San Francisco". His gruff voice and terrible hands evoked fear in those who crossed him.

Captain Lindell called his wife "Half Pint" because of her diminutive size. She won a total of 4 cars during their marriage by putting her name in the jar at different drawings and contests. He spoke of and treated her tenderly as a real lady but that is another story...

My first experience with Captain Lindell was at the Blue Moon Bar. Myself and two other officers were called there because "One Eyed Ernie" was tearing up the bar. (Ernie gained his nickname as he had lost the use of one of his eyes while running through a back yard criss-crossed with hanging laundry. His love tryst had ended early when the female's husband had arrived home early unexpectedly. The hanging laundry stopped most of the buckshot from the irate husband's scattergun but one pellet found Ernie's eye). Ernie was a huge, powerfully built black man hardened by many years of manual labor. The Blue Moon Bar was a true bad bar. Bullet holes pocked the walls and police always did bar checks there in pairs.

After our arrival, that day, the fight was on. The three of us were no match for "One Eyed Ernie" although I was the smallest of the three officers (6'2" and 210 lbs). We were fighting our hardest but we were becoming more tattered, bloody and beaten as the fight continued and we began to despair. (There was no OC spray, batons or tasers back in that day. You had to be tough to be a cop).

Suddenly the front door slammed open and Captain Roy Lindell stepped in to the dark bar from the bright sunlight outside. "One Eyed Ernie" stopped dead still and stood tall with his bloodied hands at this sides. Captain Lindell scowled at "One Eyed Ernie" and you could see "One Eyed Ernie" shiver. "One Eyed Ernie" asked in a quavering voice, "Where do you want me, Cap'n...?" Captain Lindell told him to get in the front passenger seat of one of the police cars outside and to trouble the officers no more. (We had no prisoner partitions in our cars back then. In fact, my car had a "two by four" stuck between front and back seat as the seat was broken and would fall flat without the bolster. We strapped our prisoners in the front seat next to us.) "One Eyed Ernie" quickly walked out and got in my car. I followed, bruised and battered, still shaking from the adrenaline that had flowed through my body for the fight. Captain Lindell winked at me, half smiling, as I staggered by. I drove to the jail with the huge black man sitting stock still next to me. "One Eyed Ernie" was as submissive as a lamb dutifully following Captain Lindell's directive.

I missed Captain Roy Lindell's funeral and I feel the loss often. This is but the first installment of the true tales of Captain Lindell. I love him. Writing this makes me weep. You will see why soon.

My Best Friend

There's something in the way she moves,

Or looks my way, or calls my name,

That seems to leave this troubled world behind.

And if I'm feeling down and blue,

Or troubled by some foolish game,

She always seems to make me change my mind.

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning

And I find myself careening

Into places where I should not let me go.

She has the power to go where no one else can find me

And to silently remind me

Of the happiness and the good things that I know, got to know.

It isn't what she's got to say
But how she thinks and where she's been
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound
I like to hear them best that way
It doesn't matter what they mean
If she says them mostly to just to calm me down.

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now,

She's around me now

Just about all the time

And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now,

She's been with me now quite a long, long time

and I feel fine.

Sweet Sixteen

1. Batman Begins (2005)

2. Being There (1979)

3. Blackhawk Down (2001)

4. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

5. Cool Hand Luke (1967)

6. Dirty Harry (1971)

7. Gran Torino (2008)

8. Harvey (1950)

9. Ironman (2008)

10. My Man Godfrey (1936)

11. Payback (1999)

12. Scrooge (1970)

13. Silverado (1985)

14. The Quiet Man (1952)

15. The Wind and the Lion (1975)

16. Edge of Darkness (2010)

Good since 1908...Thanks to John Browning of Utah

My sheepdog "teeth" philosophy.

Grayman

My favorite is the one 4th from the right. The "Groundpounder". I admire this warrior/craftsman for all his "work".

http://www.graymanknives.com/

Chinese Proverb Revisited

Every man is entitled to one good wife, one good horse and one good knife.

I Wanna Be Like Mike

My mind keeps rolling over all the little brother Mike experiences I have filed in my memory. I keep trying to come up with one other than this one but this event keeps coming back and over-riding all else.

When Justin, my middle little brother, was estranged from his family and was deep in his funk, he was sallow faced, suicidal and near catatonic. He stayed with me for a time.

One day found Mike, Justin and myself in Mountain Home at the "House That Mom and Dad Built".

We started playing basketball out in the driveway, just the three of us, and I quickly saw the magic "spark" and connection between Mike and Justin. Mike’s inherent kind nature and huge heart, exhibited through his verbal and non-verbal interaction with Justin, shone brightly as we played hard at the game. Mike’s ebullient and forgiving ways drew Justin out of his shell and for two sweaty, competitive hours Justin was back. Justin was the fun-loving and sparkling person of old as the loving and long fought battle between younger, middle and older brothers was rekindled.

When the game was over, Justin withdrew back inside his painful shell. I never saw the "real" Justin again.

Mike has a way of bringing out the best in the people around him like no other. You cannot be mean spirited in Mike’s presence.

I wanna be like Mike.

Happy Birthday Mike...And Justin...say hello to Dad for me...