A few days

ago, I loaded two of my grandsons, Tristan and Sam, into the car and headed

off to McDonald's for lunch, followed by a stop at the local pet store.

On the drive back home, Tristan, who will be six this month, said, "Sam

and I know what we want to be when we grow up."

"Really?"

I replied.

"Yep,"

said Tristan. "Isn't that right, Sam?"

"That's

right!" responded four-year-old Sam.

"And just

what is it you both want to be?" I queried.

"We want

to be police officers!" they both cried in unison.

I shouldn't

be surprised, really. My wife and I have three sons and all of them are

currently in uniform serving their communities or their nation.

Jason, the

oldest at age 29, is a sergeant for the Peachtree City Police Department.

James, the youngest, at 20, is a senior airman serving with the United

States Air Force.

John, 27, the

father of the two boys in my car on the way home from McDonald's, serves

as a patrol officer, working morning watch, the midnight shift, for the

Senoia Police Department. Its only natural that small boys would look

to their uncles and father as heroes and desire to emulate them.

"So,"

I asked, "why do you want to be police officers?"

It was then

that Tristan became as serious as a nearly six-year-old boy can be. "You

know that Daddy works all by himself, don't you?"

I was, indeed,

aware that, most of the time, John patrolled the streets of the small

town of 1,700 alone, although back-up was available by calling on the

Coweta County Sheriff's Department. The town, served by a chief, a lieutenant,

and four patrol officers, is typical of many of the communities in the

South. So I replied, "Yes, I know that."

"Well,"

he said, "Sam and I want to become police officers so that we can

work the same shift as Daddy so he won't have to be by himself."

As I looked

as Sam, he was nodding affirmatively, as seriously as a four-year-old

can nod.

The city of

New York has just under 40,000 police officers on the streets, nearly

three times the number of cops as the second largest police force, which

is Chicago. However, it is a little known fact that, in the United States,

there are some 800 jurisdictions that employ but a single police officer

a one-man police department.

Even Mayberry

had a sheriff and a deputy. Of course Andy and Barney had very little

crime to fight and Otis, the town drunk, conveniently locked himself up

when he consumed a bit too much of the hard stuff.

The truth is

that Mayberry doesnt exist. There are bad people in every hamlet and crime

occurs in the smallest of villages. It is also a little known fact that

most of the officers who die in the line of duty are not from the New

Yorks or the Chicagos of the nation, but from the small jurisdictions.

Part of the

reason for that terrible fact is that big-city cops receive a great deal

of training and equipment while small town officers are usually under-equipped,

under-manned, and under-trained. In most cases, they are under-paid as

well. But another significant reason why police may be safer in a city

like New York than in Podunk, Alabama is that there is normally plenty

of assistance available should trouble arise.

In Peachtree

City, for example, which employs some 50 officers, not a large department

to arrive in two minutes or less. Often, large cities require officers

to patrol with another officer, providing instant back-up.

In the small

town, especially in those 800 jurisdictions patrolled by one officer,

in the true-life Mayberrys of the nation, back-up can be 20, 30, or more

minutes away. Small town policing can be lonely and extremely dangerous.

As I looked

into the bright eyes of my nearly six-year-old and just turned four-year-old

grandsons, I was pleased that they wanted to be like their daddy but saddened

that, already, they know too much of the real world.

That night,

as they stayed with me after their dad went to work, I told them that

they didn't have to wait until they grew up to help daddy.

That night

we prayed for the safety of their daddy, their uncles, and for all who

serve in those lonely and dangerous places, keeping the sleeping citizens

of the nation safe from the evil ones who also prowl in the dead of the

night.

[David Epps

is Rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in Peachtree

City. He is also a certified peace officer and a Certified Master Chaplain.

He may be Contacted at [email protected] or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com .]