Do you recall the feeling you had as you watched your son or daughter become an officer? Last night I got to witness that moment, as I sat among hundreds of family members at a local academy graduation ceremony. I was there to welcome new police moms into the MPD family, to tell the moms of these new officers about our MPD Moms group and invite them to join us. I and other moms from our group had just handed out flyers to the mothers of all 26 graduates and we decided to stay and watch the ceremony. There was no reason I should be emotional on this occasion; I knew not a single graduating recruit. Yet, a flood of emotion came over me as I looked on.
Twenty-six recruits is a small class by Memphis Training Academy standards, so I hadn’t expected much of a crowd, yet I noted, as we greeted those entering the sanctuary of the church where the ceremonies were to be held, there were hundreds of people arriving to watch this auspicious event. Many families had fifteen or twenty people there. Several families wore shirts printed with their officer’s name, while one large family had matching t-shirts boldly announcing, “Proud Sister of …”, “Proud Cousin of …”, “Proud Uncle of …”, etc. And of course, there was “Proud Mom of …” and even a tiny little shirt on a baby that read “Proud Daughter of …”. The excitement in the room was palpable.
As the ceremony began the audience settled in to hear the requisite speeches and dedications, prayers, and awards. My first surge of emotion came with the class speech by one of the recruits. Her words spoke of accomplishment, honor, commitment and service. What stood out was her expression of gratitude and privilege of being able to serve her city.
Then came the pinning of badges for the new officers. The audience was asked to hold their applause until the end so names of graduates could be heard. But as each name was called and the officer stepped forward, holding applause and cheers was too much to ask of that officer’s family. From every corner of the sanctuary, cheers rang out as each new name was called. Cries of “That’s my boy!” and “Way to go, Baby!” rained down on our ears and the officer’s. Screams and applause that would make a rock star envious filled the room. I was surprised to feel tears swell in my eyes as this went on. It made me question, why was I so emotional? Then I recognized it. It was pride. The whole room was filled to the rafters with pride and it washed over me like an ocean wave, leaving me in a pool of memories.
I said in my book, the pride we feel as our sons and daughters pin on that badge is a pride like none other. It certainly was for me fourteen years ago when my son met his dream of becoming a police officer. Now I was witnessing that same pride and joy in all these people as they watched their sons and daughters, husbands and wives, cousins, nieces, nephews, and friends take that step. I could almost reach out and touch it, their feelings were so strong.
I sat back and took it in, knowing that this day would change many lives, as it had mine. I was happy for these officers and their loved ones, for whom dreams were coming true and hard work was paying off. I know there are hard days ahead for these officers, and for the moms, wives and families that love them. But they don’t need to think about that right now. This moment was about the pride.
I felt fortunate, sitting in that church, witnessing that moment—lucky to be reminded of that tremendous feeling of pride I’d felt in my son’s achievement and the fulfillment of his lifetime dream. I hope we all will try, on occasion, to go back to that moment in our own lives and experience that feeling again. Doing so can lift a lot of worries and bring back the joy of being a police family. It can bring a sense of renewal and optimism, of happiness that our kids are where they are meant to be.
Remember the pride.