Is it Police Harrassment? (Probably Not but....)

On May 25th, 2016 I was, yet again, stopped by a Somersworth Police Officer. Correction: I was already stopped, of my own accord, and the Police Officer found my stopping in a public parking lot curious and turned on her lights. She then approached my car, told me that because I was stopped at a public parking lot around 1 AM she found that curious oh and may I have your driver's license and registration. 10 - 15 minutes later I am allowed to resume my tasks.

Now, this incident is, by it's nature, Illegal. Just because something is "curious" does not give a Police Officer the right or authority to interrupt another citizen's day. And for me this is a problem as I am forever going to do things that are "curious". Off-beat, strange, off-the-wall, curious.

• I could say that it is because I'm a recent Traumatic Brain Injury survivor.
• I could say that it is because I'm a member of Somersworth VFW and all that entails.
• I could say that is is because I'm a Freemason, Mensa, Airborne Trooper, on and on.
• However I have NEVER been illegal with anything I have ever said or done, period.

That being said, I sometimes get stressed out while driving and I pull over to the side of the road to take a deep breath. I find the best place to pull over is PUBLIC parking lots. Due to work schedules I am, at times, out and about around midnight. Strangely moving around at that time seems to strike the "curious" note with your young Officers and they proceed to pull me over.

Being of large stature I can only wait for the day an Officer shoots me as some sort of so called appropriate response to my stature. After all, I suffer Aphasia. Maybe one of these stops I engage in a tourettes fit and get shot for telling an annoying intrusive Officer off. I have yet to ever get a ticket in Somersworth with all the stops but what if I choose to stop these curious fishing expeditions? Somehow or another your Officers are abusing their authority diminishing the "automatic" respect those lights grant.

Is it THE LAW that I must let them continue interrupting my day just because they are "curious"? Is that the Freedom I defended with my sweat, blood, and skill? I don't think so. Again I re-iterate: Curious is NOT a valid legal reason to stop anyone anytime.

I proudly refuse to allow you, the Police Dpt, to infringe on the Liberty I sweated, bleed & killed for in return for a little bit of Security, no matter how loose or tight you can provide it. So I can only presume that because of my brain injury, which I received due to no fault of my own, I have been identified as a problem child. Far too many visits to my house on spurious reasons, far too many parking lot stops for spurious reasons.

A question comes to mind: What is the number for Somersworth's Police Dept legal representation?
After all, I need to know who to serve with lawsuit papers.

Dinosaurs still exist...

"Interesting point, they do still exist. In human form but they still hang around."

Currently, I'm once again helping some Dinosaurs enter this millennium. Sadly, the last time I did it was a resoundingly ungrateful success. I started interacting with a group of Dinosaurs from a fraternity I belonged to but little did I know this chapter was not the best heart-ed or brightest. Instead of trying to climb the fraternity officer ladder, like many of them seek, I just puttered around in areas I knew well.

I started them with a Facebook page, to garner attention and connection with each other even spent time with Photoshop using my skills to give them something of an interesting banner they could use (and still do); started a Google calendar so they could plan & announce activities. Granted at the time it was, to them, not a worthwhile activity so they treated it as such. Not too long after my brain injury, it became important enough to them so that they asked me to hand everything off to someone else. This was before I realized what an embarrassment I now was to some of them.

What they don't realize, or give a damn about, is that as the creator I still get notices of changes and activities. In fact, I know how much they use this medium. Not a humongous amount but usage is growing. I know what they don't give a damn about: Thanking the guy who started them on the path to this millennium.

To be fair, I never mince my words, I've never been quite politically correct (possibly ever). However asking if that Turnip is a turnip should not be something held against me though many humans have done so. I just thought that this fraternity was above such failings. When I learned otherwise I debated leaving the fraternity entirely but settled on leaving the chapter involved. I've yet to find another one to belong to and I am afraid that while I may satisfy the requirements of the fraternity.... does the fraternity meet those same requirements or mine?

So here I am, once again, looking to help a worthwhile group of Dinosaurs to connect with this millennium. Upgrading the "official" computers operating system, forming blind recipients e-mail lists and notifications, heck some of them bring me their new smartphone and ask "How do I do this?" or "How do I do that?" And I'm the one brain injured?!?

Not that I'm thinking about stopping this activity mind you. I'm just griping about the last time I did this and how I was treated. Granted I could've spoken up in my defense at several junctures but that would've have created discord with my name at the center of it all. That's a big no-no and I didn't want to give those  so inclined to give me the heave ho from the fraternity.

So, yes I'm going to do it. Yes, I'll be happy to do so as I'm sure these guys will appreciate any effort on their behalf, even if they don't quite get it. The one thought that they generate inside themselves, "Thank you". Ironic, when people think about it they thank these guys & gals for their service all the time. Little do people realize that we only did it out of gratitude for our fellow citizens and for our country. We don't need the thanks but they are nice when given.

What is a support group?

I've been to many Brain Injury support groups in the past 3 years since my accident. A few are weak but they try to be a support group, bless their souls, but one or two are just awful. The horrendous experience I am enduring with one has my back up so far I'm thinking about calling an attorney. That being said by complete happenstance I found one support group that has been phenomenal. And their goal has nothing to do with Brain Injury exclusively.

Even during my accident, I kept trying to walk. Unconscious, broken, bleeding from compound fractures - I still marched on. So after I came home I started walking around my current home town. While walking I noticed this old church with the sign "Dumont Lessard VFW Post". Noticed that the grounds was not as beautiful as the building so I started doing regular police calls of the property. One of the members noticed me, walked up, asked my name and >boom< found out I could join.

Since that time the Post has gently learned and dealt with my condition. They've always helped me get involved with anything I seem interested in, and I've yet to discover anything I'm not, and they are always beside me with helpful hands regardless of the activity I've become involved with. In essence, they've become part of my family. Grumpy, lovable, annoying, interesting, crazy, calm, wise members of my family but family none the less.

That IS a support group!

Now, I've been allowed to shoulder some tremendous mental responsibilities as I grow up. And truth be told, I am still regrowing into an Adult, mentally. Not quite at my physical age mentally, yet, but my VFW allows/helps me to exercise my mental & physical abilities to strengthen those aspects of me that my accident greatly diminished in me.

A friend of mine is shocked at the difference that can be clearly seen if one takes the time to look. In person, my abilities with language are difficult and, at times, can be greatly diminished from a "normal" rational human being. The shocking difference, in their eyes, is the complete turn around when I type what I am thinking. In their words, "OMG I want a signed copy of each book you write!"

That IS a support group!

Even though lately I have to shamefully confess to having developed some social anxiety issues. In the development of that issue I have disconnected myself from a worthwhile group of Skype friends. When I was in a coma, they drove several hours down to Boston to support my wife during my operations and what not. When I was moved to rehab hospital, they swung by on occasion. When I was released, they were always there on Skype to help me relearn how to talk and socially interact. And let me tell you, like a toddler I was in the beginning, without their guidance I'd be as awkward as can be. So I proudly say:

That IS a support group!

Blessings come in all forms....

This is going to sound pathetic, it is, but I have once again been approached by the Somersworth Police on behalf of the Portsmouth Police. I have yet again be issued a Trespass Notice. I, for the next year, am not allowed at the Portsmouth Community Center.

This is not a problem as I rarely go there. However, that being said, this situation has interfered with my duties as VFW Post #4485 Surgeon Officer. This spiteful action was taken against me a couple of years ago.

At times there are community meetings held by the State Gov't that I should attend. Went to the public Governers Meeting on Brain Injury Affair. Was in the audience until someone tapped my shoulder. It was a Portsmouth Police Officer. We quietly exited the meeting room and then they asked me if I would leave. The Officer was obviously ashamed of his duty so I gave him no trouble whatsoever and I quietly left.

Why is this yet again appearing on my door step? No idea, I don't visit. It's been several months since my last visit. What is the complaint? Unspecified. What crime did I commit? Again, unspecified. However it is clear that without any charge, of any kind, Portsmouth has found me guilty.

 

My past relationship with the Community Center? It houses the Brain Injury Support Group Krempels Center. I am one of the rare fired support members. Apparently they have issue with someone who is unafraid to ask "Why?" when it comes down to money matters. In essence, they wanted to bill me so much money. No problem, just why? 

 

But here I am a few hours ago talking about how blessed I am. I wake up and while I'm fixing my breakfast the police knock on my door. Yes, I am blessed but now I am fricking pissed that my name is being slandered by the City of Portsmouth.

I am blessed with purpose,

I am now the Quartermaster at my VFW post. I am trying to learning my duties but it is not easy as many of my fellows (other members of my VFW) don't know, or understand, the function and duties of the Quartermaster. Doesn't slow down commentary on my performance though.

One of the things I'm realizing is that, essentially, I've once again become an enlisted man serving an organization. My Commander, outstanding gent btw, is the officer who helps set and define our goals. Essentially it is my job to be his NCO and see that that the goals are met. How that is accomplished is, like military history, upon my shoulders.

Guided by examples that led the charge before my time, guided by traditions laid out by generations before me, confined by laws and common sense practices, I will meet the standards of that mission.

So before me is the task of finding guidance. Focusing my energies towards that goal, gathering the willpower to maintain determination and discipline to be another worthwhile example to the coming generation of VFW members, and following Quartermasters, I will strive to be more than who I used to be even before brain injury.

It is in these moments of clarity that I realize, in many ways, how blessed my life is. Let me count the ways:

Dad - I love you. A Vietnam Era Marine who took me under his wings and raised me though he did not have the bearing of me. The bumper sticker I got from my church says it all, "DNA does not prove family. Love Does!"

Yvonne - The love of a good woman is more powerful than many will ever realize this side of life. Without her in my life, even before my accident, I would be a poor excuse of a human being. Through her efforts and guidance I have, in many ways, become a better man than Special Forces made of me.

The VFW - Many people don't realize the good works of this organization. I can't speak of other programs from the VFW. But I can say this: During my recovery I have been involved with many "support" groups for brain injury survivors. Some were good, some were quite the opposite (no names will be mentioned), but none have helped me re-grow into a worthy person like the people at my Post of the VFW.

At no point did they ever dissuade me from trying. Even if it looked beyond my reach, mentally or physically, did they stop me. Caution me from concern for me, like siblings do, but slow me down - Never did they try that. They understood the passionate heart that throbs in my chest. They understood that as long as I breathe I will strive to be more today than I was yesterday.

They understand the Marine I was raised to be, they understand the Airborne trooper that I was and still am, they understand that I am damaged and my striving is not to fix the damage but to do more even with the damage. At no point do I feel diminished in their presence though secretly I think I always will feel that way about myself after my brain injury.

So, gladly I say I have a purpose. Handle my duties as Quartermaster, share with the younger generation of possible members the joy that comes from continuing to serve, and identify a powerfully good brain injury survivor outlet for the returning soldiers with similar disabilities.

Yes, you are damaged and not who you used to be.
Yes, it is not an easy road to travel with many pitfalls and hazzards to navigate.
Yes, you are still needed and wanted while breath still inhabits your body.

If you want it, there is a place built for us - at the VFW.

A curious way of explaining Brain Injury suddenly came upon me:

Each day you and your mind is in a room. A room that you are comfortable with, familiar with, and confident in. You spend your days helping your mind walk in that room endlessly, even when sleeping. As you grow up, as you age, as you gain experience, the room expands. You and your mind walk the new expanses with delight (I hope) but on and on the walk in the room goes on. 

My Brain Injury has taken my room and changed it from an exploration of strange new expanses to a prison that some days shrink without warning. On a daily basis, I can never tell what the dimensions of my mental prison is until I try to walk it but when I hit the boundary my mind wants to shut down and sleep.

Now, saying prison could be taken negatively. Just representing the annoying aspect of my new limitations.

I am a burden

I recently wrote a poem describing who I am, or more about what made me "me". It proudly declared many things that I should be proud of but like most poems it boiled down moments of my life to far too few words. Instead of a novel it reduced moments of my life to simple sentences but it also removed many of what made those moments difficult, trying, and in the process stripped down what made them worth being experienced.

Philadelphia Ghetto I survived,
Fast Fighter I am.

This is more significant than given credit. Philadelphia was the forge that gave my backbone the steel that it is. There are many events during my growing up that like many of us our parents and siblings don't know and those that know some of them don't speak of out of respect, not embarrassment.

I learned to fight. Not just mentally facing a difficult troublesome environment but physically as well. I joke about the appearance of physical threat: My hands come up but my feet, at the same time, swing into reverse ready to move as fast as I can.

I learned how to throw down with the best of them but I also learned that running is, at times, the best answer.

Troubled Family I survived,
Big Brother I am.

What family is without trouble? My extended family is one that was dominated by spite and anger. My parents did what they could to protect us from this problem and in many ways they succeeded yet within the intimacy of close family some issues arose. It was living and learning through those that was an aspect of that steel that I was forged into.

The love I feel for my family has been a major motivator throughout my entire life. My Mom, delightful terror that she is. My Dad, the Marine he will always be. Peter, the weasel. Elizabeth, the beautiful woman with the heavenly voice. Wayne Robert, Bobby you have the heart and passion of a gentle giant. Nicole, filled with love for her family, even me. And Justin. I can't properly express how proud Justin makes me.

The love of my family consumes me.

Army Jumping I survived,
Airborne I am.

A joke about this is: I'm afraid of heights. So lining up at 1,200 hundred feet and getting out an airplane is something that can not be explained. People commonly ask, "Why jump out of a perfectly good airplane?" My joking response, "Why do you presume it was good? You don't know until it successfully lands. If there is trouble with that, you are too close to the ground to jump so you've waited too long!"

This ignores the military hell that I lived through. I am a disqualified West Point Cadet raised by a Marine who served in the US Army. Four things about me my 1st Sargeant hated, the KKK nut that he was. I was almost an officer who could have told him what to do and he'd have to do it. I was Airborne which was something that he couldn't bring himself to do and hated those of us who could face that stress successfully with a passion. I was the son of a Marine, which many Army guys don't like by nature. And I was the son of an African American Marine who I would not denounce, so he tagged me as a "Race Traitor", a silly KKK label. So for a couple years of my life I was dragged through as much mud as possible encouraging me to quit.

I didn't.

Desert War I survived,
Soldier I am.

Got out of the Army and went back to Civilian life. Not quite a year later I was reactivated for Desert Service. One of the accomplishments I made during my military hell was becoming Desert Trained and qualified in a combat unit. A reserve unit from the Poconos was activated and they had no one desert trained or with any combat experience, so the Army stepped in and tossed me in as a life preserver for that unit.

For 18 months I endured the slights and mismanagement of medical command structure in a war zone where they had no idea what was what and by Geneva conventions had no weapons. I, and my guys, had weapons but that was ignored with the way they badly talked at us and treated us.

Not one casualty in my unit, period. Heat or weapon casualty. My guys followed my guidance, those under the command structure realized my guidance was right on target and adhered to my suggestions. I proved what a leader and soldier I am regardless of the disdain from those above that was dump upon me.

In essence, my sin - my shame - being right.

Our Society I survived,
Civilian I am.

Being of a humble and gentle nature, NOT, I have continued being shameful to be around.

I have not learned the method of being right quietly. I see something wrong, I speak up. I don't slap wrong and right around like a club over people's head mind you. But when things fall apart it is commonly remembered that I was the one who said, "Wait a minute..." That at times has propelled my career forward but outside of professional settings has branded me as "trouble".

Our Society has a flaw: They don't like reminders of their failings and seeing someone who defined their failure, no matter how succinctly, is not desirable. Thus, by those standards, I have never been quite a desirable commodity to our Society.

Bicycle Accident I survived,
Disabled I am.

Boston Hub on Wheels! I signed up to do 20 miles, most people only did 10 miles, and at 15 miles something happened. What? I don't know and my accident report is ... ... gone. The only thing we do know is that I did a 30 mph face plant on asphalt. Broke my face, mangle my forearms, cracked my skull and chipped my spine. The horror is those were my lightest injuries.

Physically and mentally disabled,
Brain Injured I am.
My brain took a beating. So much disruption and injury my forearms waited a couple of weeks before being repaired as I could not be laid down for the operations. Could not be laid down must have been an annoying complication because holes were drilled into my skull, tubing inserted to control the swelling and bleeding, and maintaining life in this broken comatose body.

The outcome: I am changed. Not so much as to be horrified but in mental capacity and spiritual burden a lot. My memory is returning but it is damaged. It is there but I don't have ready access to memories that keeps things in line. My ability to think beyond the level of most teenagers is also now beyond my capabilities.

Regardless what people think,
Crippled I am NOT.

A lesson I lost sight of for a time of my life is: A special forces soldier strives to be more today then they were yesterday. For me, now, this means sometimes I over-commit myself. I'm still learning what I can do ... now. You don't learn if you don't try but sadly in decision moments I forget some of my new limitations. (Refer back to memory issues.)

It is in this that I inadvertently make myself a burden: To those I awkwardly support (and let down) and to those who support me, and again let down. My life continues due to the unwavering love of a wonderful woman. My condition wears on her patience, tries her soul with the complications, but her love for me which I gained before my accident has never wavered.

The personal demon that plagues me is am I worthy of this love? I strive to be worthy of it but in the striving I inadvertently create drains upon it, not support for it. It is in this that I face the reality that:

I am a burden.