By Garrett TeSlaa, P1 Contributor
Before the police academy, the closest I’d ever come to shining shoes was selling them. In high school I slogged through a job selling low-quality shoes at a JCPenney’s in a rundown mall, so it was no surprise that when it came time to shine my boots for the academy I was horrible at it. Like most of my academy experience, I had to figure out how to get by.
I did that by finding the one guy who was decent at shining boots but not so great at studying for tests. We traded skills, and he did my boots while I helped him study. It worked out. We both graduated; me with boots that didn’t draw unwanted attention, and he with a slightly better test score.
My thoughts recently returned to boots. I’m not sure how many I’ve gone through in almost 13 years, but it was time for a new pair. My boots were in disrepair: The toes had worn down, the sole was wearing away and the fabric was beginning to tear. I’d already broken one shoe lace. They couldn’t hold a shine if I’d tried. Not that I did.
When I opened up the shoe box, I got that new boot smell. For cops I suspect that smell ranks up there with a new patrol car and Hoppe’s.
I rummaged through my closet for the shine box. I’m so bad at shining my shoes that I usually use an automatic polish dispenser with a foam tip. It feels like cheating, and makes me fearful an academy instructor is going to come around the corner and make me knock out pushups until my shoulders dislocate. In my defense, I work a beat that includes concrete, ranch lands and beaches, so boots don’t stay polished for long. But this being a new pair I wanted to try to get a good foundation in before reverting back to bad polish habits.
As I worked the small circles of parade gloss into the toe, I began to think about these boots and what was to come for them, and the man who would be lacing them up.
What will these boots show me?
Certainly I’ll see some of the worst of humanity; things most people will never comprehend. I’m also going to see extraordinary acts of kindness and compassion in these boots; actions that will remind me of what we’re fighting to keep sacred.
The soles of these boots are pristine, having never been placed on the ground, but in time they’re going to step in blood, urine, vomit and feces. They are also going to step on sandy beaches and mountain tops. They’re going to step into an elementary school classroom of kids who think I’m a superhero. I’ll do my best to uphold that image.
These boots are going to walk into countless homes where strangers will tell me their darkest secrets and their biggest fears. They will recount horrors and, in that retelling, we will forever entwine our paths, even if we never consciously recognize it. They will tell me things they’ve never told another person.
These boots will step into my own home as I sneak off to wish my family a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and maybe even a happy birthday as I work a holiday shift. A crease is going to form in the top of the leather, right across the toe where the boot will fold as I kneel down to greet my son eye-to-eye.
If they’re like my last two pairs, they’ll be the boots I’m wearing when I find out a loved one has died too far away for me to be of any support.
These boots are going to step close to a stranger as I tell them about the death of a son or daughter. Then the superior shock absorption of the patented open cell technology of the midsole will absorb the added weight as I try to hold them up as they begin to grieve.
Will these boots help to keep me standing upright when everyone else in the room is collapsing to the floor? I’m going to need the help.
God knows, I’m going to need the help.
The durable 500 denier nylon upper that encases my ankle is going to keep it sturdy as the sole goes vertical and connects with a felon’s front door just offset from the deadbolt. It’ll leave behind a size 12 business card to remind him I came by.
It’s likely the toes won’t look good for very long. They’re going to get scuffed up quickly; scraping the asphalt as I hold C-spine, give CPR or lay down on the highway to see if anyone is still trapped inside the rollover. The toes of the boot never hold up in this job.
The laces are going to fray and break from being tied up so often. I won’t mind because it’s a reminder of how many days I showed up.
What kind of cop will I be in these boots?
When I’m wearing these new boots, will I be the best version of myself possible? Or, will I be the most convenient version of myself that’s available?
Will these boots be occupied by someone who is demanding of himself but patient with others? Will he first seek to listen before he speaks, or will he be rigid and presumptive in his opinions?
These new boots will almost certainly be engaged in violence. Will the person in them be capable of violence yet reluctant to unleash it? Will I make sure my actions are from a place of love for country, community and my fellow citizens, and not hate for the perpetrator and the decisions that brought them in front of me?
At some point, the sides are going to get marked up. It won’t be long before a partner steps on my foot as we walk together, watching over each other as we go. The outside of my right boot will show wear from constantly rubbing against the cloth near the gas pedal as I patrol for countless hours while others sleep in their beds.
The Gore-Tex upper will keep my feet dry while I’m directing traffic in the rain. The boot will give just enough to allow me to run to the front door to evacuate an elderly woman from the home she’s lived in for 60 years as a wildfire bears down on her neighborhood.
Are these the boots I’ll be wearing when I’m put to the ultimate test of my abilities? Will the suspect first see the heel of the boot because I’m turned away and didn’t see it coming? Or, will the toe of these boots be pointed towards the fight?
The sole under the balls of my feet will be the first to wear because my weight will always be pointed towards the fight.
The tips of the sole will be worn down from running to the danger, not away from it.
By the time these boots need to be replaced, the only part that will not show wear will be the heels. They won’t get much use. They will not be used to retreat. They will not experience the weight of my body from leaning away from what’s in front of me. They will not erode from standing still. Lessons will be learned on the toes.
The toes will always be pointed forwards.
I love these boots.
About the author
Sergeant Garrett TeSlaa is a 13-year veteran of the Santa Barbara County Sheriff’s Department. He is the founder and host of The Squad Room podcast, which develops positive leaders in law enforcement. The podcast is downloaded in over 100 countries and has a wide range of guests that help cops be successful in all areas of their lives. Learn more at thesquadroom.net.