Column by Josh Butler Recently during a routine traffic stop, a driver pulled out a gun and began shooting at my dad.

Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index Previous Columns | Send mail to The Voice Take pride in Portland's finest I recently met my dad, a police officer in Southeast Portland, for dinner at a little restaurant about five blocks from my house. He showed up on duty with two of his cop buddies and said casually, "We had a shooting here last night." Now I consider my neighborhood a fairly safe place, but the stories I've heard from my dad over the years have led me to reflect upon the hidden city that I never see but that some people deal with daily. I remember a car my dad pulled over the first time I rode along with him. The driver explained he needed to get to an appointment and asked if he could leave. My dad checked out the car and let pass what appeared to be a hunting rifle case in the back. That afternoon at the precinct we received a Most Wanted bulletin for the man. He had murdered his wife in New York City the day before and was on the run in Portland with a semi-automatic weapon and a pistol. That was my first experience pulling somebody over. Like most Americans, I tend to be an anti-authoritarian junkie. But being on the other side of the wheel made me realize that whenever cops pull someone over or knock on a door in answer to a call, they never know what they are going to get. My dad comes home every night with stories of domestic abuse, shootings, stolen cars and gang violence. Recently during a routine traffic stop, a driver pulled out a gun and began shooting at my dad. I see the same streets he does, but he sees them from the inside: streets filled with violence, mental illness, child neglect, chemical abuse and suicide. But I've seen another side to dad's job. Through the years he has developed relationships with the more vulnerable here in Portland, such as small restaurant and business owners from other countries, the homeless, and community workers trying to make a difference. The smiles they give him when he walks into a room are refreshing. All in all, cops have a tough job. So next time you see them, give them a break, a wave, or even buy 'em a coffee (this is recommended over donuts or bacon, which have been known to give the wrong impression). Like a kid in elementary school, I'm proud of my dad. And, laying my anti-authoritarian angst aside, here's a salute to Portland's finest. Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index Previous Columns | Top Of Page Send mail to The Voice| Journalism department website © 2002 The Voice. No part of this publication may be reproduced in written or electronic form without prior written consent from the journalism adviser of Multnomah Bible College. All rights reserved.