Inside/Out

"No, I’m not," I said, but I lied.

A crowd of people was there, packed into the Police Benevolent Association Hall, which surprised me. My old partners Blue, Terry, Dan, and other colleagues from my twenty-five years with the Bergen County Sherrif's Department showed up to say farewell. Friends, my children, my sisters, my nephew, even a few folks from back home in Jersey--my whole life wandered around the room in the faces of the guests and well-wishers. A host of younger female deputies who still had a long way to go in the department clustered together exchanging stories. As I passed, I heard one of them say:

"I didn’t know Shelley was the first woman in the Sheriff's Department, did you?"

I smiled to myself. If they stayed with the department, those young women would experience obstacles: physical, emotional and spiritual. I silently wished them luck...because they sure would need it.

Though I had been planning this retirement party for months, I had half-expected no one to show up. It had taken me a month to write my speech, and I had put together a little skit, too. There was food, good liquor and music in the background. I played "hostess with the most-est" wearing a black sequined coatdress and a big grin. I shimmered when I walked, but inside I felt sad, but I knew one thing, I was leaving the Sheriff's Department on my own terms.

"Well, I’m gonna miss several things, if the truth be told. I’m gonna miss the gas key." Judith laughed. "That thing is the same as money," I raved. "I’ve been getting free gas at the service center, and now I’m going to have to introduce myself to Exxon, Amoco and Shell!"

"What else?"

"I’m going to miss the wave." Police officers wave to each other on the road. "You know there are a few different types of waves, don’t you? There’s the macho wave...which looks like a salute. And there’s a steering wheel wave...where you barely take your hand off the steering wheel. There’s the Forrest Gump wave...that’s the great big ‘heyhowyadoin’’ wave. And lately, I've been seeing some royal waves...like a Queen in a procession. " I paused, shaking my head. "Can you believe that? Police doing the royal wave? Man, it’s time for me to retire."

We laughed again, but as I looked around the room, I did feel a twinge of regret for the life I was leaving behind. But only a twinge.

Everybody had gone all out to say goodbye with a mountain of gifts: a color television, clothes, a handmade quilt, a jewelry box, money, two radios, a silver box and tray...and a beautiful plaque.

My colleagues roasted me, making references to the laughable events of the old days. When the time came, I rose. It was time to say goodbye.

"You know," I began, "I’ve come to believe in predestiny, because I never dreamed of being the police. In fact, I dreamed of being almost anything else. I wanted to be an actress. I pictured myself numerous times as Marilyn Monroe, dressed in a slick white dress, getting out of a long white limousine wearing a luxurious white fur. Oh, I wanted to play a role, that was me."

Everyone laughed.

"And I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to wear that white nursing cap and put on those orthopedic-looking nursing shoes. Yes, I wanted to nurture, that was me." I took a deep breath.

"And I wanted to be a counselor. I wanted to teach people about God, and about right and wrong, and in which direction to go...just as soon as I learned it myself."

There was another burst of appreciative laughter.

"I also wanted to be a famous ice skater. My father brought me a pair of ice skates home one day. Brought, not bought. That made them a little too big; that’s the day I learned toilet paper was good for more than one thing. Not only could it fill out your bra, but it could make your ice skates fit, too."

Laughter smothered the room again.

"Then late one night, I found myself being sworn in the Bergen County Sheriff's Department. I was so happy; I thought I was cool. But another part of me was sad because I had never become any of those things I had dreamed of becoming. Instead, I was the police."

I looked around the room. There were probably a hundred people jammed into the banquet hall, and we had had to get out extra chairs to accommodate everyone. As I made my speech, I could see that all eyes were front and center, fixed on me. I had the attention of everyone and I intended to take advantage of it.

"Now, before I knew it, twenty-five years had passed," I told the crowd. And when I reflected over my life, I realized that I had certainly played a role. I didn’t wear a slick white dress, but I did wear a green and white uniform. And I did have a white car--with a star. Marilyn never had that! And I did become an actress: sometimes I acted up and sometimes I acted out."

"That’s the truth!" Blue yelled out, and everyone laughed.

"And I did become that nurse. I didn’t wear a white nursing cap, but I did wear a green stetson and black patent leather orthopedic-looking police shoes. And I did get to nurse people, and to give them help and hope and most of all love. And I sure was a counselor...telling the same people the same thing over and over again: do the right thing, get your shit together! So you see, in reality, I have fulfilled all the dreams I dreamed as a child."