The Magical Book

By Richard Hannibal

Recently, an old partner of mine sent me a centennial remembrance book from the Los Angeles County police agency where I spent 25 years of my life. It was a "magical book" that allowed me to travel in time from 1911 to 2011. I will treasure this book for the rest of my life.

I handled the book like a religious icon as I slowly absorbed its words and images. The first thing I did was pay homage to the healthy young faces that looked back at me from its pages. Some were smiling vibrantly and some had the look of too many years in the trenches fighting society's woes. Many of these old friends and partners are no longer with us. The ravages of time took some of them and some left this world by their own hand — the emergency exit far too common in police work.

Each page of this magical book brought forth a flood of memories — the good, the bad, and the ugly. This was not necessarily a negative thing, even though it brought forth dragons I thought I had slain years ago. I realized I am much better equipped to deal with them now then I was back in the day — dragons no more!  

I think we all have a specific period in our lives that defines us, even though we are continually evolving. A stroll through any cemetery will reveal tomb stones of folks who passed away in their 80's and 90's, but remembered for their youthful years in World War II or some other military action — two or four years out 80 or 90 that ultimately defined them. Likewise, with me, that beloved police agency of long ago defines me, though it has been years since I walked its halls and patrolled its streets.

 I purposely don't attend retirement functions or funerals. I shy away from contacts with many who at one time I would have died for. The downside of this seclusion is that through the years, since I was a kid-cop, I thought I could go back to the station anytime, the old crew would still be there, and nothing would have changed. The centennial book jarred me out of this fantasy with the realization that everything has changed and I don't know a single soul who works there now.

Another observation I made from looking through the book's 177 pages was that there were only one or two photos of me. That was tough to handle since I am defined by those 25 years of serving the "sacred trust." My initial reaction was, "I thought I made more of an impact than that?"

As I looked through the book, I received many insights. I formed an image in my mind of a thin, straight line extending 100 years. I realized that all my years of service were only a tiny "blip" on the line, the size of the dot at the end of this sentence. Wow, what a revelation that was. It certainly put the rest of my life in perspective.

Let's face it, every one of us is nothing more than a "blip" on the line of time, but we each contribute to the oneness of everything. I hope that in our lifetimes, we all serve a "sacred trust" at the perfect time and in the perfect place. I am comforted in knowing that our "service" overlaps, thus keeping continuity through the years.

As I said, I will cherish that book for the rest of my life. I looked closely at every photo and each one brought another profound thought to me. It is indeed a magical book, at least for me. It came to me at the perfect time in my life. It put me in touch with my own mortality as I gazed into the faces of those who came before me and those who came after me. At the same time, it gave me hope for my own life, and for humanity as a whole.

I am coming away from all of this with an increased realization that we are all one and not just a series of individual "blips." The world, the universe, and eternity remain a huge mystery and one that we will probably never understand. However, one thing is evident, we are all one with the mystery. Each one of us is serving in our own magical way, and in our own magical time. Let your "serving" honor those who came before you and bless those who will soon arrive.