Bowie resident offers important lesson in perspective By KEN GREENWALD
A few weeks ago on a bright sunny Sunday afternoon I decide to go out for some exercise. Since I had my knee replaced and the other sewn back together a couple of years ago, I am somewhat limited to the exercise I can do, so walking has become my exercise of choice.
Usually, I walk in the late evenings and take with me my cell phone, small flashlight, walking stick for dogs and a pocketknife. I think the pocketknife dates back to being a kid growing up and always having one in my pocket. Since it was about one in the afternoon, I left the flashlight and walking stick behind. After all, what could happen to a person in broad daylight?
I was about to find out.
I walked to the top of the hill and as I walked down Penn Manor, I decided to walk next to the woods. I grew up playing in the woods almost every day. It would be a walk down memory lane. Normally, I would be in the middle of the road or on the sidewalks when there are ones to walk on. As I approached the Jack and Jill tot lot, I stepped on something in the grass. I looked down and realized that I had stepped on a sword. We are talking a King Arthur's sword not a little toy sword. It was about 4 feet long, heavy, and made of chrome-plated steel with a solid wooden handle. Not real sharp, but it certainly could hurt someone under the right circumstances. This was the type of sword people hang above their fireplace. And it was 50 feet from a tot lot! I was baffled as to where it could have come from.
Being a concerned citizen and a parent, I figured I needed to take it out of there. I would give it to my son's acting class to use for a prop. After all, it looked like King Arthur's sword. Then I thought to myself, "Should I turn around and take it home right away? No, it's only a decorative sword," I decided. "I'll just carry it with me on my 3-mile walk. What harm could it cause? I'm doing nothing wrong."
When I walk through the neighborhood, I'm the type to say hello to everyone I pass, ask you how you're doing, and tell you to have a nice day. I always figured if we all did that we would have a nicer world, the butterfly effect. So as I walked along carrying my newfound sword calmly in my hand, I spoke to everyone I passed. I wasn't swinging it or jabbing it, I was just carrying it in my hand. I wasn't even holding it by the hilt. Some people looked at me kind of funny, but no one made any comments. Some people, who were pulling up to their homes, just looked at me and went inside.
Three miles later as I was within 1,000 feet of my home, a police car zoomed up. The police officer jumped out of his car and screamed something at me. All I could hear was "weapon" and "on the ground." Was he talking about my decorative sword? I tossed the sword down, and the officer screamed "No! You on the ground!" Me? I'm just a concerned citizen.
The cop (he is now just a cop, not a police officer, as he is flipping out on me, and I have lost my respect for him) screams "Lie down, spread your arms and legs, and turn your head away."
I really think this cop is going to shoot me. I lie down, and get screamed at again that my arms are not out far enough, and that I am still looking at him. I'm looking for his gun and hoping it is still holstered. He then tells me I am too close to the sword. I roll away from it, as it is hard to crawl on knees with 10-inch scars on both of them from the surgeries. All I could think was, "I never want to be near that sword again."
He then proceeds to tell me that the whole neighborhood has called and said there is a crazy man walking through the neighborhood carrying a large sword. I guess I should have taken the short walk back to my house when I found the sword. Then he asks me "What were you doing walking through the neighborhood with a sword?" I told him my story.
Then the cop asks me if I have any identification. Nope, I have nothing. What do I have in my pockets? Uh-oh, I've got the pen knife. Now I am really going to get shot. I've got a sword and a knife. I tell the officer I have my cell phone in my right pocket and a Swiss army knife in my left pocket. I figure a Swiss army knife is not a weapon it's a multitool. Let's not get him more excited.
He screams again to "spread my arms and legs further and don't look at him!" I was always taught to respect and obey the police but now I'm listening to him more because of fear. The next thing I know, I have been frisked, even inside my sweat pants, and the phone and knife are gone. Fast, efficient and embarrassing.
Zoom, zoom and zoom, three more police cars arrive. Six officers get out and approach me as I'm still lying on the ground. I repeat my story. The first cop chimes in "Why didn't you call the police when you found the sword?" I said I didn't think finding a sword was worth a 911 emergency call.
Thankfully the much calmer police officer seems to be the higher rank and is now in charge. Now I'm thinking I am not going to get shot and may not even get arrested for being a concerned citizen. Whew, what a relief. The officer seems to believe my story and says they are going to keep the sword. That's OK, as I really had no need for it anyway, other than to give it to the theatre department.
Then the excited cop gruffly says, "What are we going to do with him?" The officer in charge says "He can go home but without the sword." I can breathe again. As they start to walk away, I look down and retrieve my cell phone but there is no Swiss army knife. I ask the cop if I can have my pen knife back. He mildly glares at me and walks about 25 feet away and very deliberately puts it on a driveway. He then proceeds to tell me "You may pick up your knife after I have vacated the area" and then he walks across the street. I pick up the knife and the three cars leave.
The cop turns around and says to me he has a few other questions to ask me. OK, I have nothing to hide, I'm innocent. He then proceeds to ask me my name, address, etc. As I near him to answer his questions he looks at me and says, "Please remain at a distance from me, for both of our safety."
I am amazed that this 25- to 30-year-old, physically fit cop is worried that this 55-year-old man who has to be limited to walking for exercise is going to jump on him. But I back off to avoid problems, as the other police officers are gone. The cop finishes his questioning and I go on my way.
As I walked the remaining 1,000 feet to my house I reflected on the whole situation and the different perspectives of the people involved. It is often a good thing to step back and consider why people act certain ways. I thought of myself as some concerned citizen taking away a potentially dangerous object so a child would not get hurt. My neighbors thought some crazed lunatic was walking the neighborhood, chopping off heads as he went.
I was upset at the cop for acting like I was the worst criminal in the world and treating me like I was garbage. Yet, as I thought of him and what he did and said, he was probably acting and using the verbiage taught to him to ensure his safety in an unsure situation. I have to admit, it was bizarre. So I don't hold it against him, but I do think his people skills could use some refining.
I had always wondered why people in neighborhoods with crime problems didn't always want to cooperate with the police. Now I understood their perspective too. Because of the way this officer (we'll call him officer again now that I can reflect back on it and try to give him the benefit of doubt) treated me, I really didn't want to cooperate with him at all. I cooperated purely out of fear that he was ready to shoot me. The other officers realized the innocence of the situation and probably got a little chuckle out of it, but they all acted very professionally. One of them now has King Arthur's sword hanging above his mantle.
When I got home, I told the story to my wife and son. Their perspective of this was the same as all of my friends who I have told this story to - they laughed hysterically.
But I'd still like to know ... how did that sword end up at the Jack and Jill tot lot in the first place?
