In Memoriam

 

(The above photo is from our 1995 SCPD Christmas Party. Lola reposted it a couple days ago before she left us. She's the tiny, non-smiling blonde in the back row. Yes, I was wearing heels.)

If you are fortunate, you encounter giants in this life. They are not always large in stature, some are small and feisty and take zero grief from anyone.

If you are really lucky, you will find a personal giant. That giant will come equipped with a fire and determination to drag you into the best iteration of yourself you can be. Usually despite your best efforts otherwise. 

Giants accept no excuses because they’ve lived it. Done it. Handled it all. They only know to create a way forward when the rest of us are still scattered. Their impact is felt in the moment and far, far beyond.

I don’t know that I can ever encapsulate this particular giant of mine with mere words but I need to try…

When I left SCPD dispatch - in the midst of our local police department joining with the county and becoming Netcom -  I wrote something for Lola and had it framed to commemorate the significance of my time with her. When I gave her what I’d written, she teared up. Then was immediately annoyed because she never made me cry in training. (That she knew of.)

She challenged my naive 20-something self to be so much more than a job. In enumerable ways, she taught me about life. To show up and do your best. That excuses are for the unprepared. How to be generous with people but give no quarter. (She would totally use other words there.) And above all else - do the right thing. If only because it is the right thing.

She demanded these things in no uncertain terms.

I loved working for her. Even when I got in trouble for not knowing where an overpass was in a verbal pop quiz. Thank you Mike Pruger for graciously accepting the spur-of-the-moment patrol ride along. Driving me to said overpass and waiting while I walked across it as instructed. Despite the fact that when you went in service you announced over the radio there was a “banished dispatcher” with you.

PS I’m also pretty sure that was the night I saved your sunglasses as they slid across the dash towards my open window during a pursuit. You’re welcome.

Personal calls were not allowed in dispatch because all lines were recorded and potentially could be material in a trial. Lola was the one who had to weed through the audio, capturing the pertinent sections as required. Sometimes though, ahem, personal calls were made and we took great delight in the midst of said calls, shouting “Hi Lola!” just so she wouldn’t be bored while listening. 

She was especially understanding when she found me dancing and lip syncing on a graveyard shift to a boom box we had in the corner of dispatch. To my credit I finished the song despite our super awkward eye contact. To her credit she merely shook her head and went back to her office.

There are people who come into your life and alter it forever. Usually you don’t recognize it in the moment with the impact only becoming clear later on. But oh, sometimes you know it right then and you relish every margarita and tortilla chip, dance, and story you are privileged to share together. 

Lola Crain, there will never be another human being like you.