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Carol H Tucker
Passionate about knowledge management and organizational development, expert in loan servicing, virtual world denizen and community facilitator, and a DISNEY fan
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beladona Memorial
Be warned:in this very rich environment where you can immerse yourself so completely, your emotions will become engaged -- and not everyone is cognizant of that. Among the many excellent features of SL, there is no auto-return on hearts, so be wary of where your's wanders...
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honey, I'm home
“On This Day” is an application in Facebook that shows your posts of the past. For those who have a lot of a family pictures on their timeline, I imagine it is a very poignant feature, for me it is usually a composite of things I have shared, status updates, and comments I have made. This popped up today from a year ago:
The story behind that “share”:
When Frank and I moved into together, one of the things he was worried about was the fact that I didn’t know much about guns, and guns were very much part and parcel of his life as a cop. I had to learn how to shoot different revolvers and rifles, and yes, I could hit what I aimed at. I had to learn how to clean the weapons and how keep the ammunition and guns that weren’t being used secured. Most folks didn’t realize as he went about the day that he was always armed. He didn’t make a big deal about it, usually he had a shoulder or ankle holster and unless you patted him down, you wouldn’t realize he was packing. And no, I don’t remember any more what kind of gun he carried, but it was a snub-nosed 38. That particular gun was always on the night table beside him.
Another adjustment was getting used to shift work. The 11-7 shift wasn’t too bad because I usually got to see him in the morning and after I got home from work, but night work was always tough because you have to sleep during the day and that is never easy, especially in an apartment. We put a chain lock on the front door so that maintenance couldn’t just waltz in, always closed the bedroom door, and had the blinds pulled and two sets of heavy curtains over the windows to keep it as dark as possible.
On bright and sunny afternoon, I unexpectedly got off of work early – I forget why. Tom was still in school and Frank was asleep, so I didn’t call home first, and when I got in the apartment, I was very quiet. As I crept around, there was something that I wanted in the bedroom [I forget just what it was] and I decided I could sneak in and out of the bedroom without waking Frank up. I started to quietly open the door, and it suddenly was flung open and there was Frank, standing there in the doorway with his gun leveled right at me.
Now I am sure that it only took him an instant to realize it was me, drop the stance and ask me why I was home so early, but in my memory it seems as tho we were both frozen in place as the minutes ticked by as I stared down that muzzle. I remember the drop of my stomach, my eyes going wide and staring, my hand clutching the doorknob convulsively, my voice squeaking as I tried to say something. The thought flashed through my mind that I was about to be another gun death statistic, and then time snapped back to normal as Frank lowered the gun and asked me what in the hell I was doing home so early and why I was sneaking in. It wasn’t until then that I realized he was in the buff. It rattled both of us. Frank had awoken, befuddled and tired, heard the stealthy movements in the living room then the hall, knew that no one was supposed to be home yet and had prepared to repel an intruder – it took a while for his adrenalin to drain. He got dressed, and we had the first of many conversations about that incident. It took a very long time for me to calm down and stop shaking for I had no doubt whatsoever that I had looked death in the eye. It gave me an insight on what a cop goes through when he pulls his weapon, and what it feels like to have one pulled on you. Frank was worried that I would never trust him again, or freak out about having guns about; I had to accept that I had literally put my life and that of my kids in his hands.
But I never again tried to be quiet when I came in the apartment. Anyone entering always announced in a loud voice “I’m home!”
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