Let’s Make an Immediate and Direct Impact

As you all may know, writing, music, and the arts have been proven to be absolute excellent therapy in the treatment regarding the symptoms of PTSD.
 
There are currently several organizations such as, Song Writing with Soldiers, that pair musicians with veterans. The veterans often times tell their stories or share songs they have written. The artists collaborates with the veteran and together, they create a song based on that story. These organizations are invaluable.
 
In an attempt to get one of these excellent organizations to come locally, I have discovered that this process is so popular and effective that the organizations are booked out nearly two years.
 
The group I work with at the VA is committed to educating the public regarding PTSD for not only veterans, but all first responders. I don’t like to re-invent the wheel, but now have a goal.
 
What better way to educate the public than to include them in the process. There is so much talent locally and nationally that I believe starting an organization that accomplishes this goal does two things. First, it provides the same opportunity as the larger organization. Second, it directly involves our local and national talent, educating the public via participation.
 
I bear first hand witness to the therapeutic benefits of the arts regarding managing the symptoms of PTSD. I am happy, able, and willing to set up the organization and begin collaboration as soon as possible. The goal is to have a song or two by November 2020 that would be performed live at an event sponsored by the Fargo, ND VA at a local venue.
 
If you are a musician, song writer, or have a absolute desire to make a direct impact, regardless of where you live, please message me. There really are no rules. A great deal of this can be done over email, however I feel it is imperative that the artist meet the veteran at some point. I promise you the end result will make a positive difference in a veteran, first responder, and your life.
 
Thank you all for being the kind of Americans worth fighting for!
 
Dan

Listen to My Radio Interview

Hi Everyone!

In case you missed it, feel free to click the link below to listen to my radio interview on the Heroes of the Heartland Radio program from this morning!  Thank you all so much for the continued support for this project! I used to say it meant the world to me, and it does, but now I am starting to see that there is a bigger picture.  Thank you for all the phone calls, texts, and emails. Keep them coming!

Heroes of the Heartland: Dan Hudson | INFORUM

Using Yours

Like a loving mother that would starve to feed her young,  life too will feed you if you are willing to eat.  On the other hand, should you find yourself not hungry, give your plate to another, for then you become life.
DTH 2019
Using Yours.
I was recently in Charleston, SC and found it was every bit beautiful as I had been told.  Like most cities, there are several faces of the city, even if you travel just a short distance.  I find this same comparison in people.  Some may look good on the outside, but more often than not, they too have another face.    
Arguably, I am a humble guy. I prefer to encourage people and congratulate their successes.  Don’t get that confused with credit.  I am a firm believer in giving credit where credit is due.  A Champion of the soon to be successful underdog. 
In reality, There are those that ask for your “help”, and once provided, give little to no credit to those whom really do the work.  Often times this occurs in the Supervisor/Supervised relationship.  The unfortunate result is a moral destroying situation for the supervised. 
The above scenario used to really drive me crazy.  Pages and volumes of my research, making those in higher positions look good. Furthermore, the posturing that ensues is almost comical with no ex post facto benefit for those who actually have done the work.   Unfortunately, this seems to be a common scenario regardless of where you have employment. 
Most people do not need to be paraded around cubicle city upon their co-workers shoulders, yet some do.  My point is, the simple act of giving credit where credit is due by a supervisor is sign of strength, not weakness. 
When, not if, this happens to you, remember some advice the smartest guy I know told me. “We always win in the end.”
This ever happen to any of you?  I can measure this in days and weeks for the most part. The thing is, learn from this as someday you will be the person who passes the plate, or throws it in the garbage.  I encourage you to pass the plate and give everyone the best opportunity to succeed.  Leaders eat last, my friends.
Thanks for taking a look!
Dan

The Interview

 


The Interview

You don’t think I know you , but  have done my homework,

Learning the details of your life, not bothered by your smirk.

 

I see how this will go, you think you are smarter than I am,

You will tell me an unbelievable story, I will pretend to believe, but don’t really give a damn.

 

You are not the first, and certainly will not be the last,

Hundreds just like you , through the front door they have passed.

 

I am going to sit here with friendly smile and an ear to lend,

I promise you when this is over, you will break and not bend.

 

I come to work and listen to lies every day, people trying to remember what they said,

You lecture me about the law, professing any evidence, there is not a shred.

 

I sit quietly and listen, as we play this failing game,

Pointing your finger at everyone else, yet we both know you are to blame.

 

Like actor in a play, where there is a beginning, middle, and end,

Words like a ballet dance off your tongue, as I pretend to be your friend.

If you really knew what I was thinking, watching you pick imaginary lint with your  finger nail,

You would be sitting in horror, knowing you are clearly going to jail.

 

Now your story is over, and it is my turn to play,

I’ve watched your nervous ticks, heard every word you did not say.

 

I think what you did is disgusting, but now the table is set,

I squeeze your story like a sponge, removing the water that made it wet.

 

My own prejudice of you remains locked away in my own mind,

Make no mistake, I know everything that happened and about your kind.

 

There is a system in place of which I swore and oath,

There are rules that I must follow, rules known to us both.

 

Shut your mouth and listen, I know exactly what you did,

An adult like you should never take advantage of anyone, elder or kid.

 

In my job I have seen horrible pictures, many times forced to watch a horrific tape,

Your lies have caught up with you, now there is no escape.

 

Don’t try to interrupt me, it will do you no good,

Look me in the eyes, these words need to be understood.

 

I will do everything allowed to make sure you never hurt another,

The time for truth or denial is upon you, the choice is one or the other.

 

Telling you I know what happened, your head will hang down,

That smirk you wore so proudly, now quickly becomes a frown.

 

You will start to feel numb, because you know your future is clear,

The confidence you had at the beginning, leaves you in a hot tear.

 

Confessing to every horrible act committed, almost in disbelief,

You gasp for air as you inhale, exhaling the truth with a sigh of relief.

 

I don’t know if there is good left inside you, for me there is no grudge,

Guilt consumed your thoughts, save your apology for the victims, child, elder, and the judge

 

The acts committed are heinous, yet so simple to define,

The path you walk now is dark, but mine will always be a thin blue line.

 

                                                                                             

This is my second poem in my LEOETRY series. LEOETRY stands for Law Enforcement Poetry. It may not be your thing, but for me, I like to tell stories through this method for awareness and education.  I will not include anything dealing with training, tactics, or other methods used by Law Enforcement.

The Interview is a poem that tells a vague story about the interview of a suspect.  There are many things that go into an interview, but much like a keen-eyed parent confronting a child, the words that are not spoken often tell the truth.  The body resists stress and untruthfulness.

I have had the opportunity to conduct several interviews of suspects, victims, and witnesses.  Some cases unspeakable, others simple property crimes.  The fact is, each interview is as different.

Thank you all for your service, and please stay safe. Please enjoy “The Interview”.

LEOetry “Out The Door”

Out the Door

 

The dispatch phone rang when you called for help today,

You needed us there, but didn’t have much to say.

 

You called because you knew it was time,

The journey up a difficult ladder you have started to climb.

 

You had enough, and called for the help of a stranger,

            To protect yourself from anymore danger.

 

We have never met, but many times I have seen the same pain,

            Your tears run down that blackened eye like tiny drops of rain.

 

You have tried to leave before, but were promised it would never happen again,

            Praying to God that it would be true, with a sincere amen.

 

I have a lot of questions that will be hard for you to answer,

            About the hell you have been living, growing like cancer.

 

I received this call from others so many times before,

            So many like you praying to walk out that door.

 

I am listening to every single word that you say,

            Hoping that this will be your liberating day.

 

I want you to know that what happened fills me with rage,

That I can not show, keeping it in my cage.

 

Please understand there is much more I wish I could do,

            I will not say this, because it will not help you.

  

I promise I will place my piece perfectly in this chain,

            I wish, but cannot, take away your pain.

 

Be strong, be wise, and leave, you have committed no sin,

            The room becomes silent, I could hear the drop of a pin.

 

I could see that your lifetime was running through your head,

            Taking in our words, and thinking of what had been said.

 

Thank you for listening, can I give you a ride,

            That is when I saw something in you stir inside.

                                   

Your eyes meet mine, as you pick your bag from the floor,

            Turning with a smile, as you finally walked out the door.

 


As a former patrol officer, domestic violence was all too common.  The victims extended to children. Every now and then there was a victory in that darkness.  I am not an expert on this topic, and my only wish is that I had a magic wand to erase these terrible situations, but I do not, but I have a keyboard and a blog. 

This is what drove this poem.  Thank you for taking a look.

 

Poetry “Broken Windows”

Broken Windows

Hot brown days, counting each as they go by,

Staring into a dry nothing, remembering times gone by.

 

Lost in a million thoughts, like vagabonds through my head they roam,

            One-step forward, is another step towards home.

 

I cannot explain what happened, or how it got inside,

            Pushed deep in my soul, but it came out no matter how hard I tried.

 

Time just could not erase the things I have seen,

Hiding from everything became such a routine.

 

I now walk among you, but will not know my name,

            Nothing happens on my watch, if so; I am the one to blame.

 

Watching waistbands and hands, vigilance ever so high,

            Measuring every risk, willing to sacrifice, or even die.

 

My memories are postcards scattered by a fan in my brain,

            Pictures of happiness, and sorrow, others bring pain.

 

Images flash by, some more than others,

Each as important as the next, often of my sisters and brothers.

 

A carousel of memories that have no absolute order,

            Fracturing my sense of peace like an exploding mortar.

 

My solid ground disappeared; I had nowhere left to stand,

            From the light, there became darkness in the hot desert sand.

 

I needed a guide, hero, someone to show me the way,

            God only knows the hell she would have to pay.

 

She became a foundation, my clarity, my life,

I am here today because of forgiveness, and the patience of my wife.

 

She grabbed my hand when I started sink,

            Counted my scars, and filled them with ink.

 

Standing tall for family, nephews and nieces,

            One at a time, picking up my life’s shattered pieces.

 

I know now that before the day I die,

Into the broken window frame of my life, a thousand shards of glass will fly.


I wrote this poem not to long ago.  It will be ready publicly at a college for a local event.  Please feel free to give it a read. Thanks for taking a look!

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