Positive isn’t Always the News

I have noticed something lately, and it’s not a negative thing and definitely deserves attention. During these strange times, it’s obvious how negative stories can dominate headlines, because apparently that is the news. Yet right in front of all of us are real acts of kindness, heart, and compassion.

I am seeing true American ingenuity. For example, several of our fitness experts and gym owners like Dion SgroMariah Prussia, and April Imholte are providing online workouts for people to do in their homes. I am seeing parents teaching their children about cooking, conserving resources, and using technology to teach their children who are currently at home due to this situation. People like Rozalyn Howery taking her children on virtual tours of many places in the world through the internet and reading books.

Our small businesses, like restaurants are offering carryout services. These Americans are still there, still serving our communities.

Even social clubs are encouraging online groups to help maintain some socialization. It’s different, but allows some level of interaction and a breath of normal.

American resilience and ingenuity has always prevailed, and always will. We can take a lesson from those like Teresa Terry who understand the gravity of these times, but know how to find the best in not only the situation, but their fellow Americans, encouraging people to remember compassion.

People like Dave Jopp who encourage music and keep people entertained through radio.

People like Sandy Zok who offer their expertise to those who may need some type of social service.

People like Josh Kehr, who continues to play excellent music and offers help to those who may need deliveries or anything else.

These are just a small sample of the positive things happening during this time.

In the end, this virus, like any other virus or crisis, does not discriminate against your skin color, past, present, ethnicity, political affiliation, or sexual orientation. In the end, we will prevail as we always have. In the end, we are all still human. Be kind and compassionate to those most vulnerable in our society.

Reach out should you need help, it is out there. Support your local small businesses, neighbors, and friends. Thank you for being a great American.

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

PTS ME Audio Book

Don’t call me a voice over specialist by any means!  I decided to try this out.  Attached are the audio files of PTS ME.  If you have time, like nearly 8 hours, please give them a listen. I am happy to share this journey in the hopes that others can identify and move forward in their lives. This is by no means the professional version, but I did the best I could with my podcast equipment. 

The PTS ME Kindle and paperback are available on Amazon:

 

Please take a listen!

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

“I See No Color”

I See No Color

I see no color, in a sister or a brother,

But I am red, bravery and valour,  the color of blood that was shed.

 

I see no color, in a father or a mother,

But I am white, pure yet innocent, as we stand colorless for what is right.

 

I see no color, in a soldier or any other,

But I am blue, vigilant seeking justice, high in the air watching over you.

 

When I pass by, stand, you live free only because heroes had to die,

I see no color, you do, in life and one another.

 

My color you see, together, were made by sacrifices taken to be free,

Stand for me because I am you, your flag, red, white, and blue.

 

What does it take?  To me, the hypocrisy of freedom is when people do not realize that the same reason they have the “right” to do this and that derives from the price that was paid.  Sure you have rights, but do you have respect for where those rights actually came from?  There is a time, place, and way to exercise those rights. We can get the most out of everything our freedom has to offer if we are responsible.  

Freedom, hell no it isn’t free, it is an investment that cost, and continues to cost.  Understand what the cost of that freedom was and still is, and you will understand that to exercise the return from that investment came at a dear price. 

I love this country.  I don’t always agree with decisions that are made, and like this post, I am able to make it known.  Agree or disagree, that is your freedom.  We can still have a beer at the end of the day. 

Thank you Veterans for your service!

Thanks for taking a look. 

LEOetry “Clear for a 101”

Clear for 101

I got the call and ran to my squad car,

Where I was going was closer than it was far.

 

This place I know well, and they know me too,

The same old thing, maybe this time I will try something new.

 

Three units were headed that way, maybe four,

I strapped on my seat belt and slammed the door.

 

The engine roared as I tore out of the lot,

A deep inhale flooded my nose of booze and pot.

 

There would be no siren or flashing lights,

It had already been a long evening of drunks and fights.

 

I turned the first corner, then left to avoid a train,

The street lights made the road glisten, from tonight’s early rain.

 

I will get there quickly but safely, the most important call of the night,

Just ahead a familiar sign, comes within my sight.

 

I will be the first maybe the second squad to arrive,

That familiar feeling in my stomach returns, reminding me I am alive .

 

The car comes to a halt as I throw it in park,

This job can be dangerous, especially in the dark.

 

We may go in, or have to wait for the rest,

Each call different, each factor will determine what is best.

 

Two more show up, the first there was the officer on that beat,

Clear a path for the police, when the call comes that it is time to eat.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Sorry, but not sorry, to build a little suspense with the call. I laugh at this because this can be so true.  I try to be realistic, but fat guys like me need to eat. In some “ten code” language, a “101” is a request to take a break and have lunch.  That is subjective because you can quickly be called away regardless if you requested a break or not. 

Much like my poem, “The Five Foot Table” many life’s decisions are made by cops in a restaurant booth.  Important decisions like, family, retirement, complaining about policies, or maybe even the last call for service.  Not only police, but all first responders, and soldiers have a limited opportunities to eat or use the bathroom.  When that opportunity presents itself, it is wise to take it. 

At work and home we can control a lot of things.  One thing a first responder can’t control is time.  You never know when that next call is coming, or what may lie in front of you.  Time can be your friend or your worst enemy.  Manage it, treat it well, and with any luck, it will be good to you.  

Please stay safe out there and thank you for your service. 

Poetry “To Myself a Lesson”

                                                               To Myself a Lesson

Closing my eyes, I left my body, only for a little while,

 an escape from reality, allowing for temporary denial.

As I walked a path, images of my life were left and right,

hearing every word ever spoken, every picture in my sight.

Like a theater with movies playing at the same time,

 watching each tear, each laugh, each mountain I had to climb.

Over here I am a child outside playing ball,

staying until dark, coming home to my mother’s call.

I looked to the left and watched a small moment of my life,

 it was my wedding day, so happy, and such a beautiful wife.

Ahead was my family on Thanksgiving Day,

heads bowed down, as they all began to pray.

Their prayer was for peace and health, thanking God that we are free,

  before the last amen, they said a prayer for me.

My family was together, but I wasn’t there,

 consuming sadness set in , it didn’t seem fair.

On the right there was a man lying face down in the snow,

I stood above him, his life gone, who he was, I did not know.

Behind me I saw myself yelling at those I cared,

They all looked confused, hurt, and even scared.

I tried to close my eyes, to watch this tore me apart,

 but I had no eyes, my words caused pain and broke more than one heart.

Turning my head, I saw a man standing threatening to do harm with a knife,

and me with my gun, prepared to end his life.

Next to this was a man on some tracks waiting to die,

wanting a train to kill him as it quickly rumbled by.

Above was a young girl pinned in a car, not moving or speaking,

broken glass and metal scattered over the road made of tar.

To the side was a young soldier standing guard at his post,

calling for help, that scared me the most.

“I am coming to get you, it will be alright”,

my vision blurred with tears as the image faded from my sight.

I tried but couldn’t move, so I looked down,

I had no legs or body, and there was no ground.

What am I, where am I, get me out of the place,

that is when I turned one more time and saw my own face.

It was me I was looking at, standing there with a smile,

a look of peace and calmness, something I had not seen in a while.

I almost didn’t recognize myself, appearing as I once was,

the chaos of each image muted, becoming quiet as an insects buzz.

The other me made a motion to turn around,

this time I was able to move, below me solid ground.

We walked together for some time, not saying a word,

stopping by a door, then my own voice I heard.

“Hey there buddy, I am really you but you haven’t seen me in a while”,

 I stared directly at me, my face in denial.

“You look at me like a stranger, but I have always been here,

 the hardest times you faced, I was standing near.”

“Your anger tried to push me away, that is no way to live,

but it was me whispering in your ear, move on and forgive.”

“Life has created who you are now, but you were first me,

today you choose your path and the person you deserve to be.”

I stood amazed, and didn’t say a thing,

wishing I was me again, able to accept what life can bring.

Finally, able to speak I asked, “ Hey, am I dead?”

The other me laughed, “No, this is a dream, but not like your others, you are safe in bed.”

“How am I supposed to forgive these things that matter?” hoping he knew,

My other me said, “Forgiveness isn’t for them, it’s really just for you.”

“Let go of the anger and hate that keeps you awake every night,

your war is over and now it’s about us, and no longer our fight.”

With a laugh he said, “let’s go” and knocked on the door,

it opened and inside was my new life, everything that mattered and more.

“Are you coming with, or are you going to stay where you’re at?”

 In front of me was a table, my family, and my chair where I always sat.

Before I could answer, my old self was nowhere to be found,

 I searched all over, my eyes darting around.

My old me was not gone, realizing I was always him,

 the light was bright ahead of me, behind the images became dim.

From the air my own voice called, “There is something you must know,

once you walk through that door, these memories will stay and never go.”

“They will be with you for as long as you live,

but I promise you will get out of your new life, exactly what you give.”

I smiled for the first time in what seemed like in years,

My family greeting me with hugs and cheers.

My voice called and said, “Hey, there is one last thing”,

forever in my ears, these words like a soft song will sing.

“It will better from here, but sometimes your mind will still roam,

your peace and happiness are found, now that you have finally made it home.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

I don’t really know what to say about this, so I won’t. I will let it speak for itself. You may draw your own conclusions. 

If you think you know someone, or do know someone that can benefit from it, share it.  That is why all of these are here.  I feel I can reach more people on a platform like this before it is too late.

I recently had the honor to read some of my work at a Healing Warriors program that emphasized how healing, through art, whatever the form may, is so helpful.  I am still speechless at the stories, writings, and artwork created by these amazing veterans. Thank you all so much for your service that allows people like me to write what I do. 

I write today because I enjoy it.  Is it any good?   I have no idea, that is not why I write.  I write because these words, much like a painting from an artists brush, come from my mind and end up as typed characters on my computer screen. 

Thank you all for reading this very long poem.  I still have a tough time reading it out loud.

                                                                              DTH 

 

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”.

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