Poem: Christmas Call Number Three

Sometimes returning the item stolen has more impact than capturing the thief


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Many years ago, while working on Christmas Eve, I answered a call of a theft that had just happened. It was a simple bike theft and the thief fled on foot when he saw me.

I must say that generally, my instincts were to pursue the runner, but on this night I deferred to a feeling that getting that bike back to the owner was a high priority. I was right and after this shift, I decided I never wanted to forget that call.

It was one of those moments as a police officer when I felt like, tonight I did some good. So, I sat down and commemorated this call in this poem. Now I'd like to share it with you.

Christmas call number three

It was Christmas Eve on the City’s north end,
There was a cop on patrol, an ever-present friend.
Dispatch was sending calls out at a steady pace,
Squads were just keeping up, running from place to place.

Christmas call number one was a domestic fight,
A dad came home drunk on Christmas Eve night.
He scared his young son when he punched his wife,
The boy’s special Christmas memory for the rest of his life.

The old man was hooked up and taken to jail,
“Come on, it’s Christmas,” he said with a pitiful wail.
All the officer could do was shake his head,
Arresting a Dad on Christmas Eve is every cop’s dread.

When back on the beat with his paperwork done,
He felt empty after finishing Christmas call number one.
Christmas call number two goes over the air,
“See a couple locked out of their car, from Eau Claire.”

As he drove up in his squad the young couple cried,
“We locked the keys in the car and our baby is inside.”
One swish click of the lock-jock and what did he hear,
The couple from Eau Claire let out a Christmas cheer!

With a smile, he advised dispatch “I’m 10-8 and free,”
The news is met with Christmas call number three.
“A theft is in progress on Logan near Kane,
The suspect stole a bike, whose description is plain.”

“The bike is a black Huffy a present and brand new,
It has a large bow attached, that you can’t miss, cuz it’s blue.”
The cop spots the bike and the rider squeals as he jumps,
The thief runs from his plunder, which he urgently dumps.

The bike bandit disappears into the foggy Christmas night,
So the cop returns the bike to the owner and what a sight.
The lonely Madonna had saved year-long for this bike,
And thought she would have no present for her little boy, Mike.

The young mother said “Thank you” with sincerity so clear,
With a warm Christmas smile below a leftover tear.
Joy spread across her face to replace the dread,
“Happy to be of help, Ma’am,” with a smile, the cop said.

As he then turned to walk back to his patrol car,
He looked to the sky and saw one special bright star.
He turned and said, “Merry Christmas to you and to Mike.”
“It will be now, thanks to you,” replied Mom, “and that bike.”

Some Christmas presents are cherished for all time,
For those who receive them, their memory is sublime.
For this cop, one favorite present will always be,
A heartfelt thanks from one mother on Christmas call number three.

Never forget how important you all are to your families, your communities, your country and all the good people who you are sworn to protect. Stay safe, stay strong and stay positive. May God bless you all and keep you safe and when he is busy running from call to call, keep yourself and each other safe.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

NEXT: Read more police poems here

Originally published on 12/25/2008, this article has been updated. 

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