There Are Two Things You Should Always Count: Gunshots and Blessings
By: dotsonga
Sitting here in the waiting room of Memorial, a place I’ve seen too many times in my career, I can’t help but think about my childhood. Remembering how all the old folks would say things that didn’t make sense to me as a child. I thought they were all crazy, but at the age of eight, what did I know? I remember my grandmother talking to her friends and telling them ‘You should live so long’ and me thinking that everybody should live long.
She would also say something about ‘letting the cat out of the bag’ or ‘not enough room to swing a cat’…she didn’t have a cat that I knew of, so I asked her one day when she got a cat. Finally, she told me that they were old sayings from old folks and that one-day I would understand. Well, when you’re a kid, that was a good enough reason.
As I grew older I finally understood her, but didn’t really associate those sayings with my everyday life and only remembered them when I would overhear someone else use one of those old phrases. The phrase that stuck and made sense to me, the one that I could apply to my life, was one that our Range Instructor wrote on the board during our classroom instruction. As he was writing it on the board, he told us to burn it into memory because one day it could save our life, the life of our partner, or the lives of civilians. He erased it as quickly as he wrote it and told us that if we didn’t commit this phrase to memory, someone could lose their life just as quickly. I have NEVER forgotten that phrase, 'There are two things you should always count; gunshots and blessings’. Today that phrase hit home.
It was a nice October day in Bay City, there was a gentle breeze blowing and white fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky. Too nice a day to be spent inside catching up on two weeks worth of paperwork, but that is exactly what the two detectives were doing. It was the day before their vacation and all the paperwork had to be completed before they were free.
“You know, Hutch, this really stinks. We need to be out on the streets instead of stuck in this stuffy building doing homework.” Starsky huffed across the desk.
“I know, but you do want to go on vacation don’t you? You know Dobey said we can’t go anywhere until all these reports are on his desk.”
“Why don’t we sweet talk Minnie into doing them for us this afternoon while we hit the streets?”
“You know that would never work. There is no way Minnie can forge that chicken scratch that you call handwriting.” Hutch tossed a paper ball at his partner’s head. “Now get back to work. The sooner we get finished, the sooner we can get out of here.”
Several hours later and a huge stack of papers later, the pair walked out of headquarters, jumped in the Torino and headed out for a well deserved week off. “How much packing do you have to do, Starsk?” Hutch shifted in the seat to look at his partner.
“Are you kiddin’? I’ve been packed for a week.”
The partners where talking about their trip as they were waiting for the traffic light to change. Just as the light changed, a black blur raced through the intersection almost taking the front end of the Torino with it. Starsky jerked the steering wheel to the right and stomped on the gas as Hutch grabbed the radio and notified dispatch that the chase was on, flapping wildly while putting the mars light on the roof as he spoke.
“Dispatch, this is Zebra Three. We are in pursuit of a black, late 1960’s model Mustang. We are headed West on Third just past South Broadway. The Mustang is headed toward the Harbor Freeway. Please respond all available units.”
“Copy that Zebra Three, responding all available units to your location. Back-up ETA is approximately two and half minutes.”
“Copy that dispatch.” Hutch almost shouted as he grabbed the door and dashboard to stabilize himself as Starsky weaved in and out of the evening traffic. He looked across the car and had to chuckle at the determination and childish grin on Starsky’s face. The man lived for moments like this; he loved the speed and power. “You know we need to stop him before he gets to the on ramp to the Harbor, right?”
“Yes, Hutch, I know that. I’m doing my best not to let that happen.” He replied as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “But he’s driving like a maniac.”
“Well, I suppose he is. I guess you would be too if you had another maniac chasing you.”
“Very funny, Blondie.”
Just as the pair rolled up on Olive Street they heard the sirens of patrol cars coming from all directions. They continued the chase along Third Street as the convoy of patrol cars fell in behind them. “Get dispatch on the horn and see if they have some units near Grand Avenue or Hope Street, we need to get some units in front of him.”
Hutch picked up the mic, “Zebra Three to dispatch. Are any units in the vicinity of Grand Avenue or Hope Street?”
“Affirmative, Zebra Three. Two units are approaching Hope Street now and will block the intersection. Do you copy?”
“Copy dispatch, we should be approaching the intersection in about two minutes.”
I remember seeing the units blocking the intersection and thinking, great we’re going to end this thing now and be on our way. We’ll let the patrol units handle all the paperwork this time. I figured the guy was just some speed demon out for a thrill ride and he would come to his senses when he saw all the boys in blue. Boy was I ever wrong.
“Starsk, I don’t think this guy is stopping.”
“I think you’re right--is he gonna try to go through our guys?” Starsky asked just as the Mustang in front of them locked down the brakes and slid sideways taking off the front end of the lead cruiser. The Mustang then slid to a stop and the driver bolted from the car and took off down the street.
“He’s bailing on us, Starsk”
“Not for long,” Starsky said, so intent on catching his prey as he locked down his own brakes and slid right up beside the Mustang. The two detectives jumped from the Torino and took off in pursuit of the lone occupant of the Mustang. They ran about a block when the suspect turned and fired off some rounds from a very large revolver. The detectives took cover on each side of the street as the gunman decided which one to take a potshot at next.
One…two, three…He’s got a canon that’s as big as Hutch’s or bigger. OK, buddy, go ahead and use up your ammo, we’ll wait you out, I just hope you don’t have any extra.
The alley was about half the distance of a football field and littered with trash, cardboard boxes and wooden pallets. There were a few tin trashcans and wooden crates on one side of the alley along with one large dumpster on the other. At the end of the alley was an eight-foot wooden fence. Hutch pointed at his partner to stay put and he nodded his head that he was heading for the dumpster. They could see the man had his back up against the fence and was searching for something to help him get over the fence that stood between him and freedom.
Hutch turned and looked at Starsky and held up six fingers and then bolted from behind the crate toward the gunman. “NO!” Starsky shouted at his partner. “THAT’S ONLY FIVE,” he yelled as he watched Hutch close the distance between himself and the man. Then, as if in slow motion, he watched the man raise his gun and fire off the last round. He saw Hutch crumple to the ground. Everything after that was a blur to him. The next thing he was cognizant of was the suspect lying face down as he was roughly cuffing him. He secured the man’s weapon and turned to look at his partner.
Hutch was already being taken care of by the officers that had trailed the pair of detectives in the chase into the alley. One of the officers was on his way to the suspect when Starsky sprinted past him. “He’s alive and breathing,” one of the young cops told Starsky. “The paramedics are already on the way, should be here any second now.”
Starsky gave Hutch the once over, looking for any gaping holes and enormous amounts of blood. Much to his relief, the only blood he found was from a small crease on the side of the blond’s head. As he reached to wipe the trickling blood from Hutch’s face, Starsky saw his eyes start to flutter and then finally open. The glassy eyes looked at him and squinted as though trying to remember something. “Glad you could join us,” Starsky teased his dazed buddy. Hutch shook his head. “OOOWW…what happened?” Starsky snorted, “I think you forgot how to count. Don’t worry about it, we’ll have you out of here and fixed up in no time. Your chariot’s on the way.” He held him as Hutch let his eyes slip closed again.
I’m sitting here wondering what my thick skulled, dumb-assed partner was thinking when he took off like that. And I am counting my blessings that he didn’t get erased from my life like the chalk from that blackboard back at the academy. I am thankful that all he received was a nice sized crease and one hell of a concussion. I just wish he knew how to count. Guess we’re gonna have to have a little basic math lesson later.
A low groan brought Starsky out of his daydream. Hutch reached up and brushed the bandage on his temple and asked, “I miscounted, didn’t I?” I shot back at him, “Yep, I thought you college boys could count, or do you use a different kind of math than the rest of us? The second thing we’re gonna do when you get healed is have a math lesson.”
“Oh yeah, what’s the first thing are going to do?”
“Repeat after me…There are a two things I should always count; gunshots and blessings…”
By: dotsonga
Sitting here in the waiting room of Memorial, a place I’ve seen too many times in my career, I can’t help but think about my childhood. Remembering how all the old folks would say things that didn’t make sense to me as a child. I thought they were all crazy, but at the age of eight, what did I know? I remember my grandmother talking to her friends and telling them ‘You should live so long’ and me thinking that everybody should live long.
She would also say something about ‘letting the cat out of the bag’ or ‘not enough room to swing a cat’…she didn’t have a cat that I knew of, so I asked her one day when she got a cat. Finally, she told me that they were old sayings from old folks and that one-day I would understand. Well, when you’re a kid, that was a good enough reason.
As I grew older I finally understood her, but didn’t really associate those sayings with my everyday life and only remembered them when I would overhear someone else use one of those old phrases. The phrase that stuck and made sense to me, the one that I could apply to my life, was one that our Range Instructor wrote on the board during our classroom instruction. As he was writing it on the board, he told us to burn it into memory because one day it could save our life, the life of our partner, or the lives of civilians. He erased it as quickly as he wrote it and told us that if we didn’t commit this phrase to memory, someone could lose their life just as quickly. I have NEVER forgotten that phrase, 'There are two things you should always count; gunshots and blessings’. Today that phrase hit home.
It was a nice October day in Bay City, there was a gentle breeze blowing and white fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky. Too nice a day to be spent inside catching up on two weeks worth of paperwork, but that is exactly what the two detectives were doing. It was the day before their vacation and all the paperwork had to be completed before they were free.
“You know, Hutch, this really stinks. We need to be out on the streets instead of stuck in this stuffy building doing homework.” Starsky huffed across the desk.
“I know, but you do want to go on vacation don’t you? You know Dobey said we can’t go anywhere until all these reports are on his desk.”
“Why don’t we sweet talk Minnie into doing them for us this afternoon while we hit the streets?”
“You know that would never work. There is no way Minnie can forge that chicken scratch that you call handwriting.” Hutch tossed a paper ball at his partner’s head. “Now get back to work. The sooner we get finished, the sooner we can get out of here.”
Several hours later and a huge stack of papers later, the pair walked out of headquarters, jumped in the Torino and headed out for a well deserved week off. “How much packing do you have to do, Starsk?” Hutch shifted in the seat to look at his partner.
“Are you kiddin’? I’ve been packed for a week.”
The partners where talking about their trip as they were waiting for the traffic light to change. Just as the light changed, a black blur raced through the intersection almost taking the front end of the Torino with it. Starsky jerked the steering wheel to the right and stomped on the gas as Hutch grabbed the radio and notified dispatch that the chase was on, flapping wildly while putting the mars light on the roof as he spoke.
“Dispatch, this is Zebra Three. We are in pursuit of a black, late 1960’s model Mustang. We are headed West on Third just past South Broadway. The Mustang is headed toward the Harbor Freeway. Please respond all available units.”
“Copy that Zebra Three, responding all available units to your location. Back-up ETA is approximately two and half minutes.”
“Copy that dispatch.” Hutch almost shouted as he grabbed the door and dashboard to stabilize himself as Starsky weaved in and out of the evening traffic. He looked across the car and had to chuckle at the determination and childish grin on Starsky’s face. The man lived for moments like this; he loved the speed and power. “You know we need to stop him before he gets to the on ramp to the Harbor, right?”
“Yes, Hutch, I know that. I’m doing my best not to let that happen.” He replied as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “But he’s driving like a maniac.”
“Well, I suppose he is. I guess you would be too if you had another maniac chasing you.”
“Very funny, Blondie.”
Just as the pair rolled up on Olive Street they heard the sirens of patrol cars coming from all directions. They continued the chase along Third Street as the convoy of patrol cars fell in behind them. “Get dispatch on the horn and see if they have some units near Grand Avenue or Hope Street, we need to get some units in front of him.”
Hutch picked up the mic, “Zebra Three to dispatch. Are any units in the vicinity of Grand Avenue or Hope Street?”
“Affirmative, Zebra Three. Two units are approaching Hope Street now and will block the intersection. Do you copy?”
“Copy dispatch, we should be approaching the intersection in about two minutes.”
I remember seeing the units blocking the intersection and thinking, great we’re going to end this thing now and be on our way. We’ll let the patrol units handle all the paperwork this time. I figured the guy was just some speed demon out for a thrill ride and he would come to his senses when he saw all the boys in blue. Boy was I ever wrong.
“Starsk, I don’t think this guy is stopping.”
“I think you’re right--is he gonna try to go through our guys?” Starsky asked just as the Mustang in front of them locked down the brakes and slid sideways taking off the front end of the lead cruiser. The Mustang then slid to a stop and the driver bolted from the car and took off down the street.
“He’s bailing on us, Starsk”
“Not for long,” Starsky said, so intent on catching his prey as he locked down his own brakes and slid right up beside the Mustang. The two detectives jumped from the Torino and took off in pursuit of the lone occupant of the Mustang. They ran about a block when the suspect turned and fired off some rounds from a very large revolver. The detectives took cover on each side of the street as the gunman decided which one to take a potshot at next.
One…two, three…He’s got a canon that’s as big as Hutch’s or bigger. OK, buddy, go ahead and use up your ammo, we’ll wait you out, I just hope you don’t have any extra.
The alley was about half the distance of a football field and littered with trash, cardboard boxes and wooden pallets. There were a few tin trashcans and wooden crates on one side of the alley along with one large dumpster on the other. At the end of the alley was an eight-foot wooden fence. Hutch pointed at his partner to stay put and he nodded his head that he was heading for the dumpster. They could see the man had his back up against the fence and was searching for something to help him get over the fence that stood between him and freedom.
Hutch turned and looked at Starsky and held up six fingers and then bolted from behind the crate toward the gunman. “NO!” Starsky shouted at his partner. “THAT’S ONLY FIVE,” he yelled as he watched Hutch close the distance between himself and the man. Then, as if in slow motion, he watched the man raise his gun and fire off the last round. He saw Hutch crumple to the ground. Everything after that was a blur to him. The next thing he was cognizant of was the suspect lying face down as he was roughly cuffing him. He secured the man’s weapon and turned to look at his partner.
Hutch was already being taken care of by the officers that had trailed the pair of detectives in the chase into the alley. One of the officers was on his way to the suspect when Starsky sprinted past him. “He’s alive and breathing,” one of the young cops told Starsky. “The paramedics are already on the way, should be here any second now.”
Starsky gave Hutch the once over, looking for any gaping holes and enormous amounts of blood. Much to his relief, the only blood he found was from a small crease on the side of the blond’s head. As he reached to wipe the trickling blood from Hutch’s face, Starsky saw his eyes start to flutter and then finally open. The glassy eyes looked at him and squinted as though trying to remember something. “Glad you could join us,” Starsky teased his dazed buddy. Hutch shook his head. “OOOWW…what happened?” Starsky snorted, “I think you forgot how to count. Don’t worry about it, we’ll have you out of here and fixed up in no time. Your chariot’s on the way.” He held him as Hutch let his eyes slip closed again.
I’m sitting here wondering what my thick skulled, dumb-assed partner was thinking when he took off like that. And I am counting my blessings that he didn’t get erased from my life like the chalk from that blackboard back at the academy. I am thankful that all he received was a nice sized crease and one hell of a concussion. I just wish he knew how to count. Guess we’re gonna have to have a little basic math lesson later.
A low groan brought Starsky out of his daydream. Hutch reached up and brushed the bandage on his temple and asked, “I miscounted, didn’t I?” I shot back at him, “Yep, I thought you college boys could count, or do you use a different kind of math than the rest of us? The second thing we’re gonna do when you get healed is have a math lesson.”
“Oh yeah, what’s the first thing are going to do?”
“Repeat after me…There are a two things I should always count; gunshots and blessings…”
The detectives waited as silence took the place of gunfire. They emerged from their cover to see the man take off once again, but just as they were exposed the man turned again and fired off another shot as the pair kissed the pavement. When the man took off again, the detectives were on his tail. They chased him a few more blocks before he ran into a long, litter filled alley. Starsky took one side and Hutch the other next to the wall at the entrance of the alley as they peeked around the corner to survey their options.
Hutch left the safety of his cover and sprinted toward the large wooden crate as Starsky fired a diversionary round above the fence to distract the object of the chase. Starsky’s round zipped by the suspect just as Hutch reached his goal. The man fired wildly at Hutch and the shot splintered the wood of the crate and pelted the detective crouching behind it.