Life in a Sandbox

I shall never forget the thrill of my first traffic stop. The look in the driver’s eyes as I approached her vehicle, the power I possessed, the authority to make life in a small town safer for all. The driver’s eyes filled with distain, fear and respect, all clearly visible to me, the small town cop. It was this young lady’s lucky day. She would be let off with a stern warning this time and an invite to come over and play later, a smooth move for an 8-year old with a badge. My patrol vehicle was a 24” black Hiawatha bicycle from Gambles. My light bar consisted of me blinking each eye in an alternate manner. My siren was a pretty good imitation of a cat slowly being run over by paving equipment, long before the woo-woo-woo type of sirens that are now so common.
My traffic violator, on that sunny summer day, was the girl next door. We were born on the same day in our small northwest Montana town. I guess she learned her lesson. A highly respected member of our community, I still see her driving around town with her kids. I’m pretty sure she still has a clean driving record as well. Glad I could be of service.
I think that day on the sidewalks of the Lincoln County Courthouse was the day I knew at some point in my life I was going to be a law enforcement officer. It was a good day. I also made a decision that if I was going to be an officer, I would not allow myself to indulge in illegal drugs. That decision is one I have stuck with to this very day.
I really don’t know for sure where the desire to become a cop came from, but it ran deep in my veins. When I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was very natural for me to say, “I am going to be a policeman!” I knew that it would come to pass for what ever reason. There were some outside influences of course. Television shows of good guys were prominent in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s - Robert Crawford in “Highway Patrol”, “The Andy Griffith Show” and “Dragnet” just to name a few. My favorite was about a pilot, “Sky King”, who lived on a ranch. Although he wasn’t a law officer, he was a good guy who helped the sheriff out in most episodes. I wonder how many of the kids I grew up with in Libby remember when Sky King came to town with the Carson Brothers Circus. He made a great impression doing trick shots with a six-shooter.
After the show was over, we all lined up in the center ring to shake his hand and get an 8x10 black-and-white photo of him signed right in front of us.
It was a great day and to celebrate, my sister and mother drove me to the “A&W” drive-in, which is but a memory now, long since torn down to make room for a hotel. I was happy, but something just wasn’t right. I ate my hamburger and some of my fries and swished it down with a swig of chocolate milkshake. A great combo, but there was a smell that just wouldn’t leave my senses. The smell was of the large, smelly elephant that was paraded before us in one of the rings during the show. I couldn’t get it out of my head or nostrils. That great combo wasn’t so great when it ended up on the pavement next to the car. I take a moment now to apologize to the carhops who worked at that A&W that day, including one of my sisters. To A&W, it wasn’t your food, it was the damn elephant. To this day, I retch when I smell one of those stinky things.
The 8x10 photo of Sky King remained close for many years, hanging on the wall of my bedroom. Unfortunately, it disappeared sometime after I left home in 1973 for the service, along with many of the things that helped me develop my imagination when I was young. Today I could buy some of the same items on ebay, or at least items like them, but it just wouldn’t be the same. And just like Libby’s A&W, Sky King is no longer with us.

Randy J. Cole

Our Fog

A young Officer R.J. Cole Coliville Police Department

Our Fog




Ladies and gentlemen, once again we have passed into a new year, when most of us spend time looking at the reflection of our lives. We become more emotional and see things in a different light. We remember family members who have passed and welcome the smiling faces of new children born who will take their place at the holiday tables. It is a time when we as Americans should look at our future and ask questions and seek answers.
There is a fog that has descended upon this country obscuring clear direction and free choices that we as Americans once took for granted.
I recall an incident from my early days, 1982, as a police officer in the city of Colville, Washington, which at the time seemed very humorous. Today I see it as a metaphor of what we are now experiencing in this country.
I would like to start this story by admitting to you that I am not a religious person. I do not attend services in any house of worship other than weddings, including my own, and funerals. I also do not consider myself an atheist because I have had enough amazing experiences in my life to know that we do receive gifts of thanks for doing the right things in life. These gifts just don’t happen; they have to come from somewhere or something that is bigger then us mortals.
The Colville valley in Northeast Washington is one of those undiscovered treasures. Truly beautiful to those who live and visit there. The Colville River flows nearby and within a short distance the Columbia rest in the reservoir known as Lake Roosevelt. In the fall and early winter when the air cools these bodies of water create a very dense fog.
It was a cool early December night and I was the only Colville officer on duty. The fog was so thick that the powerful street lights were but a glow, as if someone had laid a thick blanket over them. It was almost impossible to tell where on Main Street you were, unable to recognize any of the features of the buildings. As I slowly drove my patrol vehicle up the street, something to the right caught my eye. I tried to focus and make sense of what I was seeing. A rather bright light is shining low to the ground and I just barely make out the silhouettes of people some standing some appear to be kneeling. I radioed to the dispatcher that I was going to be making contact with a group of unidentified people at an unidentified location somewhere on the main city street. I left the warmth comfort of my car and using my best officer voice I said, “Colville Police, is everything OK?” I received no reply and the only sound that could now be heard was the sound of the snap on my holster being released and the sound of my heart pounding within my own head. I once again announced my presence in a clear loud voice with no response and no visible movement. I walked within feet of the forms only to be confronted by three wise men and numerous barn animals and in the center, a man named Joseph and his wife Mary. They looked fondly down at the face of there new born son Jesus. The snap of my holster being secured and a sigh of relief were the only sounds to be heard. Although the temperature was cold I felt warmth in knowing that even though shrouded in fog, the nativity scene, the symbol of faith for millions was present. It was impressive and means even more now then ever before. The fog descends on us all, believers and non believers as well as others like me who are somewhere in between. People like me are looked down upon by many who say you must make a decision and commit to a specific church or religion. I openly disagree, with the understanding that I will stand with you and protect the doors of your place of worship from attack by those who disagree with you’re beliefs.
I will stand with those who are willing to knock the chisel from the hands of those who would see the symbols of religions removed from the stones which mark the graves of our beloved veterans. I grieve with the mother of the fallen soldier who chooses protest as a way of stating her feelings. Although I am not in total agreement, she has earned the right. I stand with and support those who are willing to take on and destroy others who will see us all dead in the name of a religion they have perverted and soiled by killing innocent men women and children. What is responsible for the fog that blinds these people? What is responsible for the fog that blinds the leaders of nations and prevents them from making the best possible decisions and choices?
If you are inclined to pray, perhaps I could persuade you to ask for the lifting of the fog that seems to have blinded us all. God bless!


Randy J. Cole