Electrical Tape
I don't like electrical tape.
It signifies something that puts a lump in my throat. It's my flag at half-mast, it's a horse drawn carriage down a blocked off street, it's 21 rifle shots in the air or a military fly-by. It's pressed uniforms and funny looking hats. It's something that turns my stomach. It means someone in our profession has passed away. That someone has died.
Typically, we veil our insignia with carefully cut peices of black electrical tape. Badges, police and fire, are striped with it. Patches, like ours, are striped diagonally from one side to another. It's on every uniform on every employee. And it is a constant reminder of the extreme saddness some loved one is enduring.
It's a constant reminder that I need to say I love you more. That I need to hold a hand, or go on a walk, or just take a moment and look at the stars, smell the grass, or stare at the mountains.
It's a constant reminder that there are more important things in life. That the bills will get paid and the car will get fixed. That the price of gas, the miles on my car, and the speed of my computer are truly insignificant.
It's a constant reminder that there are things I want to do. That going camping, or skiing, or on that vacation, isn't that difficult.
It's a constant reminder of all my excuses, all my fears, and all my hopes and dreams.
It's a constant reminder of family, friends, memories, and goals.
It reminds me that I'm mortal.
And as enlightening as all that may seem, I don't like the fact that today I had to mask my patch with another stripe of black electrical tape.
It signifies something that puts a lump in my throat. It's my flag at half-mast, it's a horse drawn carriage down a blocked off street, it's 21 rifle shots in the air or a military fly-by. It's pressed uniforms and funny looking hats. It's something that turns my stomach. It means someone in our profession has passed away. That someone has died.
Typically, we veil our insignia with carefully cut peices of black electrical tape. Badges, police and fire, are striped with it. Patches, like ours, are striped diagonally from one side to another. It's on every uniform on every employee. And it is a constant reminder of the extreme saddness some loved one is enduring.
It's a constant reminder that I need to say I love you more. That I need to hold a hand, or go on a walk, or just take a moment and look at the stars, smell the grass, or stare at the mountains.
It's a constant reminder that there are more important things in life. That the bills will get paid and the car will get fixed. That the price of gas, the miles on my car, and the speed of my computer are truly insignificant.
It's a constant reminder that there are things I want to do. That going camping, or skiing, or on that vacation, isn't that difficult.
It's a constant reminder of all my excuses, all my fears, and all my hopes and dreams.
It's a constant reminder of family, friends, memories, and goals.
It reminds me that I'm mortal.
And as enlightening as all that may seem, I don't like the fact that today I had to mask my patch with another stripe of black electrical tape.
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Greater love hath no man than this...