I remember the day I took my oath and the Indiana State Capitol. How I felt wearing the uniform of an Indiana State Trooper. I looked out in the audience and my grandpa Harmon sat in a wheel chair. A man I admired growing up in Indiana. A man who once played baseball with Pee Wee Reese and Cotton Nash. A man who used to take me to see Pete Rose play...he would always walk up to the ticket booth and say, "I need the best tickets you have." Little did I know that my Pop had arranged for me to get a full size poster of Jeff Foster on the actual ball field, as he and the Manager talked about the good ol days.
My Pops also taught me the vices in life of playing cards. I was probably the only 3rd grader who could call a game of 7 people around the table to play "Chase the Ace", "Breed the Heffer", "Low Chicago", "Jacks or Better, trips to win." and of coarse, my Uncle Don's favorite was seven card stud. High card opens.
My pops also taught me to shoot dice. I remember all the green $25 green chips piled in the pockets of his gray slacks at the Imperial Palace in Las Vegas. First I learned the basics of the pass line, then buying some field numbers, trying to press your winnings a few rounds (if possible), then sit back and rake it in, as long as you didn't roll a 7. Patience, though, is how I saw my Pops won the most at the tables. Once the shooter gets his point and the games' started, Pops would bet heavy ($50) on the Come, get his own point, then rake the winnings once that point hit again during the shooters game. He sat back and was patient, not pressing his luck to build the field up. Every so often, He would bet $100 chip on the "Don't Pass" and go with the House. That, too, seemed to work a lot. Either way, I knew we would be hitting the buffet sometime soon. Before every meal, he would pull a wash cloth out of his pants pockets, so he could wrapped his dentures up.
In December 1996, after walking off the stage at the Statehouse, my grandpa and I hugged one another and cried. He had given me his police badge, which said "Chief" -English, IN. I've never told anyone this, but every time I put my bullet proof vest on before my state police uniform shirt, I clipped his badge on the straps of my vest. It seemed to give me a little more protection. The shield of police officer. The symbolism. Just the fact it was my Pops.
Within a few months, I gave my Pop a police escort to his burial. I cried a lot while I was driving that day, just outside of English, Indiana. He fought in WWII, where he met my grandma, who was from Coventry, England. Their love was transported back on the Queen Mary, back to the States to start the Harmon Family.
The Harmon Family were the funniest people in Indiana. They raised the funniest kids in Indiana. No joke was off limits at the family Christmas Parties at my great Grandparent home in Princeton, Indiana. I remember burning cigars, one smoking pipe and a variety of "spirits" mixed with ginger ale, coca-cola, or a Shandy, 1/2 beer mixed with a 7-Up. The best memory of all....how much we laughed.
The Harmon Family
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