3rd and 20th

Last year, when I wrote about this subject, Kris left two comments that stayed with me all year. You can view them at last year's post, here. A portion of my memories from 2001 are directly associated with Kris, and how that day affected her and made her feel. At her request, (from the comments noted above) I'm going to tell this story.

Stories like these must be told. They must be told so others, so my son, can find inspiration in the actions of great people. People who accomplish amazing things in the face of the impossible.

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As New York City intersections go, this one is quite ordinary. It boasts a mix of small neighborhood shops, and also bears the imprint of million dollar businesses. Like every other set of corners in the city, it is never vacant or quiet. The weather was pristine. Bright sunshine, a perfect breeze and blue skies provided the backdrop for this fairytale city scene. My vantage point was parked, facing north on Third Ave. A favorite pastime of mine, I was sitting in the car, windows down, soaking in the cityscape while listening to Imus.

Just out of view of this photo, more off to the right, (east) the largest police department in the country hides its training facility. On this day, I was waiting for Kris to exit that building, round the corner, and walk back to me with good news. She was not yet a police officer. Today she was taking the physical agility test that would grant her access to the police academy. She was essentially taking a test that would allow her the privilege of having the life beaten out of her for 8 months. If she passed this test, and survived the academy, she would earn the title "New York's Finest."

The exams today would include a "trigger pull test." This consists of firing 30 rounds, 15 from each hand, without allowing the gun to move inside a 6 inch circular ring. The weapons that are issued to police in NYC are modified from the manufacturer. In most cases, these guns require about 3lbs of pressure to pull the trigger and fire a round. In rare cases, they are modified and require 8lbs of pressure. In the N.Y.P.D., the weapon is taken a step further and requires an unheard of 12.5 lbs of pressure to fire a shot. Kris had attempted this testing before. The small size of her hands was not a good match for this test and the uniquely modified pistol. She was unable to make a passing grade. Not easily scared away, Kris worked out her forearm muscles and did lots of wrists curls. She even spent time practicing with an old-school heavy revolver. She had every intention of being ready for this next round of entrance tests.

I had moved from the driver's seat to the passenger's seat in the front of my car. This would put me closer to the sidewalk, and give me a better vantage point once she turned the corner. Being parked at least half a block away, put me in a difficult spot. Plus, Kris isn't the tallest person you'll ever meet. It would take steady concentration and timing to see between the thick crowds and catch her eye before she caught mine. I wasn't sure how I should handle the moment we found each other. Do I wait in the car until she notices me? Maybe I get out and walk in her direction. I could also get out of the car and wait there for her to come to me.

In an instant, hours of contemplation went by the wayside. Through a typical NYC crowd, I saw something unmistakable. Kris had taken the corner at the quick step. She moved so briskly, the one side of her body seemed to lift off the ground as she made the last move of the corner pivot. I got out, closed the door and stood still. Almost asking with my eyes, "YES?!" She picked up my stare. Stopping dead in her tracks, her head nodded in agreement and smiled HUGE.

From there it was a mutual sprint through waves of people. The look of complete joy on her face seemed to part the Red Sea between us. We celebrated in the middle of hundreds of people.

Less then four months after finishing the academy (in the top five percent of her class) on a September day with equally perfect weather and blue skies, we held each other again. And again, Kris sprinted. This time, into the fray.

(The corner @ 3rd and 20th)