FIT@50 / week 76

FIT@50 / week 76
Not There:

I’m prompting Max to prep for bed. While it takes a little longer, he eventually gets there. I finally warned him with a stern wag of my finger to wrap up the tub time. I came back in his bathroom after sorting his school clothes and he had a head of hair slathered with Old Spice body wash.

I grunted, “No. Not there.”

He proudly continued to rub it over his head. It never registered with him that what he was using was body wash and not shampoo.

“See.” He proudly held a bright yellow hand towel up and ran it through his hair to rinse it. “I wash.”

I dropped to my knees next to the tub in half prayer / half guilt for over reacting to the infamous Old Spice mix up. The thing was, it wasn’t a mix up, and it wasn’t a big deal. It was Max doing his best on his own to scrub up for another day at school. He was not only proud of his accomplishment, but also boasted a savory scent of grandfatherly masculinity.

After he was tucked in and off to sleep, I joined Liliana Hart in the living room to catch up on writing. I began to think about what I said to him, “Not there.” With my one year anniversary of my retirement as Chief of Police, I mused over that comment.

What if I’d listened to that same comment at times in my life? Admittedly, there were occasions that I should’ve known and heeded the warning, but we’ll save those for another less-public forum. I’m talking about people in your path, that for the sake of conformity or custom, tried to divert your direction in life.

What if I listened to the “voice of reason” when I wanted to enroll in graduate school in my forties after having been away from college for twenty years. What if I listened to the “friends” who thought I should’ve stayed in my position before becoming Chief of Police because it was safe and protected. What if I listened to a room full of “detractors” laughing at my first attempt to publish a book, and not because of the content, but that I’d dedicated it to my best friend who had always encouraged me during graduate school although he’d dropped out in eighth grade.

Finally, what if I listened to myself when God said it was time to retire. He didn’t mince words. It was clear, but I rationalized by looking at retirement and saying,
‘Not there,” for almost a year. What if He’d listened to me and said, “Okay, you’re on your own.”

While there are wonderful people offering wise counsel, do yourself a favor and weigh what they have to offer by what is right, what is important and what is yours. Even if the person you should ignore is you.

Being FIT@50 means I get to sit here in peace without the world’s problems being my problems, and Max gets to go to class with magnificent smelling hair.

Do Good,
Scott
Chief Scott Silverii, Ph.D.

Sergeant Joe Boxer Wants You

FAST Beta Cover

Sergeant Joe Boxer Wants You:
 
Are you a thriller fan? Willing to give honest opinions to help make this novel a great read? Sign up for your Free beta ebook. Only obligations are filling out a short survey, AND keeping the work confidential.
The TEAM:
I’ve got an amazing pre-published team of readers. I’m opening the Team for a few more Beta Readers. You get a first read at my in progress novel – FAST: A Joe Boxer Thriller.
Special Access:
Also, as a member of the team, you have first access to each book in the series – just click and BAM, you’re covering down over Sergeant Joe Boxer’s 6 as he defends America.
JUST THE FACTS:
Former United States Army Green Beret, Joe Boxer, is part of a little known specialized tactical unit in the DEA. This American hero not only lost his leg in Middle Eastern combat, but also his partner at the hands of a corrupt puppet regime placed in power by soiled American interests. Boxer is now forced to lead the fight against domestic terrorism in a war he never imagined he’d fight on US soil.
This blue-collar American veteran wants vindication for his friend’s murder. Joe Boxer struggles with an amputee’s challenge, but doesn’t succumb to it as he battles his way onto DEA’s elite FAST Team 5 in hopes of returning to the Middle East for exacting revenge. Boxer is challenged to overcome PTSD’s horror of combat, the addiction of pain management medications post-op, and learning that he’s still very much the man he was prior to the roadside bomb that claimed his leg.

Thank You To The Lafourche Parish Sheriff For Their Generosity

I’m proud to say that I served with the Lafourche Parish Sheriff’s Office for 21 years before taking the Chief of Police position in Thibodaux.  What a wonderfully generous act of kindness shown to the Dallas Police Department.

We are so grateful to the citizens of Lafourche Parish in Louisiana and their Sheriff’s Office for raising more than $50,000, which was donated to the Assist The Officer Foundation and the Dallas F…

Source: Thank You To The Lafourche Parish Sheriff For Their Generosity

Understanding Police: My PhD Research

Understanding Police Cover

Understanding Police: My PhD Research


I’m still in shock over the North Miami Police shooting of Charles Kinsey. I keep waiting for a plausible explanation before I make any comment on this. It’s hard, very hard to just remain silent.
 
So many folks want to understand the world of law enforcement, but will never gain an objective perspective. My research conducted for my PhD has been published twice – once as a textbook titled, Cop Culture: Why Good Cops Go Bad, and the other as A Darker Shade of Blue.
 
While the rights belong to my publisher, the research is all mine. I published this edition of my multi-year study on the organization and culture of cops to help you gain a factual view on the profession.
 
I tried cutting out the boring details about research methods and validity along with the qualitative methodology explanations – this will give you answers in a “PC Free” explanation.
 
I’d give it away, but Kindle requires 0.99 –>>1-Click

FIT@50 / week 71

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FIT@50 / week 71
The Bags:
 
Liliana Hart and I have blissfully caved at home this week. Although we worked while we travelled, there’s nothing like grabbing a spot in the house and hammering away until the tasks are done.
 
Forget TGIF, we experienced IFA – It’s Friday Already!!!
 
I have to admit it was different being home. Last time we were in the house it was full of kids, playing outside and nightly BBQs with meals on the patio. While we both enjoy the quiet, I think we missed the rowdy ruckus.
 
Along with playing catch up, our suitcases and clothes remain on the floor from our European adventure. We lived out of them for almost three weeks, why not a few more – right?
 
If you’d look through the window and see a mountain, you would be correct – it’s called our mail. In that mail are several slips of paper from UPS asking, begging, pleading for us to claim packages.
 
Do you remember what was in those packages?
 
Yes, our dirty clothes. Liliana wasn’t in too big of a hurry to claim those bags. Of course we figured we could wait until the kids came back and continue their life skills training. Or as some people call it – making them wash the clothes.
 
But, in a flash of awareness she changed her motivation towards claiming our bags. Why I asked. Because she has about $2,000 worth of shoes in one of them. And to think I only placed $100 worth of insurance on the shipment – just don’t tell her.
 
So if you happen to spot us slipping through Dallas looking slightly suspicious and embarrassed, it’s because we’d already claimed our batch of dirty clothes and her crazy fancy collection of expensive shoes.
 
Good news is, the kids will be back about the same time we crack open the bags with three weeks worth of dirty clothes that have been stuffed into bags and shipped halfway around the world.
 
Hey, it’s either that or they wash my motorcycle and mow the lawn at noon in this Texas summer. Life choices that children don’t get to chose are always the best to make for them.
 
Do Good,
Scott
In case you missed last week’s FIT@50 & Please Join me on Facebook.
 
 

FIT@50 / week 70

FIT@50 / week 70
White Flag:

The white flag is usually associated with surrender. I’m not about to wave that sucker. This week my flag has been the Irish’s color of kelly green. Though it’s a bit exhausting.

I’ve had a great time chronicling Liliana Hart and my adventures across Europe – If you’ve just awaken, check hashtag ‪#‎EuroDash16‬

I’m going to minimize this post because I have to wear a shirt and regular pants for tonight’s event, and someone has to get the ironing done. I’ll post Day 16 tonight after we return from the River dance. There might even be furios feet videoed since it’ll be Liliana Hart‘s first time experiencing this fantastic art form.

Since it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my sweet boy, and you’ve been so kind to mention him, I thought I’d add a little Max to the mix.

Do Good,
Scott Silverii

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FIT@50 / week 69

Terror_Attack_In_Paris_France_jpg

FIT@50 / week 69

Price of Pizza:
This week while in Paris, Liliana Hart and I took off on the city in a series of pedicab driven adventures. To say the experience was anything less than epic would be an understatement.
 
But at what price?
 
I’m always talking with her and our kids about situational awareness. The boys think it’s funny, while the girls think I’m trying to make the junior high boys afraid of them (maybe both.)
 
After a lift to the Tour Eiffel, we looked down upon an enchanted city filled with lights and people and noise and life. Just below us was a watching station for fans of the Euro semifinals soccer match between Wales and Portugal. I’d never experienced crowd energy like that before. It was like 10 Mardi Gras combined.
 
As we headed back to the suite, we were instantly caught up in thousands of fanatic supporters of the soccer match. Unable to get back to the room, we ducked into a pizza joint for a late supper.
 
We were stopped at the door by a tough looking guy wearing a black jacket with an armband that read Security. Seriously, for pizza?
 
Facing the door as all good cops do, I watched the crowds inside and out. I suddenly felt less for wanting pizza and more for escaping the scene. November 13, 2015 was there. Always there in my mind as we carted around in a beautifully free-moving environment. The 130 victims of that night’s coordinated terror attacks weighed heavily upon my heart as I choked down the first but only slice of pizza.
 
I was fixated on the tough guy at the door, as well as the hundreds of riot squad special police lining the avenues with body armor and machine guns ready to respond.
 
It wasn’t nervousness that had stricken me. It was a wash of grief for those people sitting in a cafe just like us, and the revelers whose only care was for the score of a well-played game, and the many others who just wanted to “kick it” across Paris like we did.
 
Our waiter was an older man who watched the streets as much as he watched his customers. We didn’t mind the delays in service. I’m sure it was all he could do to focus on just doing his job.
 
But it’s just a pizza place.
 
I’m never at ease. I watch the lighthearted videos we do on facebook and I’m amazed that when we’re in a public place how my head is constantly scanning back and forth. I can’t help it or want to change it. It’s what I was trained to do–I watch and observe, so I can react and protect if needed.
 
I sat up straight as a crowd jammed into the door’s threshold. Angry shouts in languages I didn’t understand came clear into the small cafe. The tough looking guy pitted himself against the aggressive few.
 
I have to admit, my gut dropped. But immediately, I was coming out of my chair to help that tough guy, who suddenly, with fists slamming against his face, didn’t seem tough enough.
 
My thoughts weren’t about my safety, or even to stay there for Liliana. My heart leapt so hard from my chest that whether it was a repeat terror attack the day after July 4th or just hungry customers pissed about being denied access, I knew the line that tough guy had committed to standing.
 
Almost a year since retirement, but I know that having a heart for serving others is something that never retires. I also now know that the French Police are much faster than I ever could’ve been. Before my butt left the seat, or Liliana even realized I was leaving, officers snatched the attackers from the door and whisked them away.
 
I watched the tough guy rub the red whelps across his face. I knew the feelings of taking licks for something having nothing to do with you other than making a choice to stand for something or someone else. I wanted to tell him that although battered, he did a good job protecting the customers in the cafe.
 
When it was time to head back to the suite, I led us through a rowdy crowd of thousands who jumped and screamed and lit fires and raced cars along the avenue. The mood was degrading fast. I swung and swayed with Liliana in tow and tried my best to avoid contact with anyone, but inevitably times came to bulldoze the drunks and just plain stupid for the sake of getting us out of that situation.
 
Finally back in the room, I showered off the grime of getting us back. and it was then that I allowed myself to relax, and the emotions came crashing over me as I showered.
 
Those poor, innocent people along the magical streets of Paris who only wanted to enjoy the mystique of this city. What makes them different than us, if for only by the day on a calendar.
 
What is the price of pizza? It gets much more costly as fear, anxiety and violence are piled upon the pepperoni and cheese. Those feelings are foreign to me, but this week they became a very real reminder of the reality of our world.
 
Do we forgo the pizza for the sake of comfort? No. Not as long as there are good people willing to stand in the gap. Those good people are us. The cafe chef, the customers, and yes, even the tough guy in the door.
 
Do Good,
Scott
In case you missed last week’s FIT@50 & Please Join me on Facebook.