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Being a Deputy Sheriff I soon learned that people seemed to like to hear the stories of some of my experiences. I usually only tell them to some of my closest friends. They vary from funny to sad to crazy. This is one of those once in a lifetime stories of my unexpected encounter with Robert Plant, (lead singer of the Led Zeppelin rock band), Scotland Yard and my scoring backstage passes for a Led Zeppelin concert.

This all began back in the late 1970’s. I was assigned to work the night detective car at the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department Temple Station. Temple Station is located in the small town of Temple City, California a suburb located approximately a dozen miles from downtown Los Angeles.

On this particular evening, my partner had called in sick and I was working alone. Around 10 o’clock that night I received a phone call from London, England. This in and of itself was unusual and of course stimulated my curiosity. A male identifying himself as a someone who provided security for Robert Plant of the Led Zeppelin asked for my assistance. He related the following story:

A phone call was traced to a phone booth in our town of Temple City. The young male on the phone had managed to get through on the phone to Robert Plant. The caller identified himself as a doctor and was telling Robert Plant he had cancer and was going to die. Now this caller was very convincing because in order to get through to Robert Plant you had to go through Scotland Yard. The caller had convinced an officer in Scotland Yard that he was the real deal and had been transferred to Robert Plant. The security person I was speaking with said they had managed to trace the call and in fact still had the caller on the line. I was given the location of the phone booth, which was only a couple of blocks from the Sheriff’s Station. I jumped in my unmarked unit and raced to the phone booth. Sure enough, there was a young male talking on the phone. When he saw me approaching the phone booth he quickly hung up the phone. I immediately recognized the suspect as someone I had dealt with many times. Someone who seemed to be getting into trouble without even trying.

I detained the suspect and transported him to the Station where he admitted his wrongdoing. He said, he was angry and upset that the Led Zeppelin had cancelled a tour date for which he had tickets. He was directing his anger at Mr. Plant to get even for him cancelling the concert. This very imaginative young man had managed to get through to Mr. Plant and pass himself off as a doctor, telling him he had a case of incurable cancer.

Robert Plant had, in fact, cancelled the concert as he had broken his arm and was unable to perform. I called the security agent back and asked if they wanted to prosecute. I was told they preferred not to prosecute and if I was able to supply them with a photo of the suspect, they would be willing to let him go.

The suspect agreed to let me take his photo, in fact was enthusiastic about it as now the Led Zeppelin would know his identity and would have his picture. He was stoked!

I mailed the photo to the security agent and I thought that was the end of it. A couple of months later I received a call from the security agent. He said the Led Zeppelin was going to be performing in Los Angeles and they would like to invite me and my friends as guests. He sent me 12 front row guest passes along with backstage passes.

I was not into 1970’s rock in those days. But my younger brother Don was and I gave him the passes. Later he told me he had an amazing evening seeing the concert and meeting the band members following the performance.

All in all, it was a fun caper!

I think that my Mom’s spirit inhabits Danielle since she acts so much like mom in a quirky way and she loves spontaneous day trips. Sometimes the most amazing things arise out of seemingly nothingness or perhaps its because we are in tune with the Universe. Spontaneity often spawns these events.

One morning, as I was walking out of the bedroom, Danielle met me with a cup of hot coffee and said, “Let’s go have breakfast at the Ponderosa and then let’s go for a ride.” I agreed. These spontaneous adventures were something I looked forward to. Perhaps they reminded me of my childhood when my dad and mom would load my sister, Norma and I into the car for a Monday day trip. (Monday’s were my dad’s day off.) Norma and I would be at the small one room schoolhouse we attended. On Monday’s we would thrill at the sight of my folk’s car pulling up in front of the school. It meant we would be taken out of school for an adventure. Often a car ride up the coast for some spudnuts in Santa Barbara. (Don’t know what a spudnut is? Look it up!)

Danielle and I would get into our Ford Expedition and we would start driving. We often did not know where we would end up. It was the thrill of the open road. We would sometimes take a turnoff on a whim. “Hmmm, wonder what’s down the road? We’d soon find out and more often than not, we’d discover some very unusual things. But on this day, we were headed to the Ponderosa in Tijeras, New Mexico for breakfast.

It takes about 45 minutes to get to the Ponderosa. It is a restaurant built out of logs with a great breakfast menu. Furnished somewhat like a north woods lodge, but better, it has good food and lots of it. It is inviting from the outside. This great big log cabin with steps leading up to the door and fresh flowers hanging from baskets. Upon entering, the first thing we were hit with was the smell of frying bacon. What a great way to whet ones appetite. The interior exudes warmth with relics of the past and paintings depicting the 1800’s hanging from the walls. Lovely booths with golden pine wood tables and friendly waiters and patron. Even though folks don’t know each other, it is not unusual to be greeted warmly by those seated on our way to our table. No one would have been surprised if Paul Bunyan and Babe his blue ox stuck their head in the door. Nobody’s in a hurry, just a leisurely breakfast and good company. Oh, did I mention, I took off my watch that day?

Maybe because of the ambience that surrounded us or maybe because we were just hungry, but that breakfast was just perfect. Bacon and eggs cooked perfectly, the rye toast and the homemade strawberry jam. It was just perfect. Feeling very satisfied after several cups of hot coffee, good company, shared conversations, and full stomachs, we resumed our days journey. There is a lovely peace that accompanies us as we drive down the road. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the sky was an absolutely stunning blue contrasted by the puffy white clouds. The road we traveled was lined with tall pines and little traffic and is a road we often take to church on Sunday mornings. We enjoy the beauty of the trees, the very blue skies and puffy white clouds which seem to mirror our feelings as we joyfully drive along. It seems as if conversation flows easily and at times even in each others silence we seemed enshrined in special moments. As we drive along, there is a feeling of warmth and love in just being together. To be savored as fine wine and remembered so that later we can recall it as fond memories.

After breakfast, we drove up to Madrid, New Mexico. You may remember it was the town where a good portion of Wild Hogs was filmed. The film with John Travolta, Tim Allen, and Bill Lacy are riding their motorcycles on a guys adventure when they inadvertently are accosted by an outlaw motorcycle gang. Of course the good guys win. A fun movie and a really quaint town. Many of the shops have taken over the colorful historic homes in the town and are fun for browsing. A myriad of colors that one would not dream of putting together, but here they seem to work. Lots of antiques, homemade jams, local honey and handcrafted items ave available. People are friendly and it fun trying to find the perfect treasure to take home.
From there we took a turnoff to the right that said it went to Galisteo. Galisteo is a very small village with a Roman Catholic church and its cemetery. In New Mexico, it seems that every town, no matter how small has a Catholic church and cemetery. All of them made from adobe and most of them very, very old. Galisteo has no businesses, at least none that can be seen from Highway 41 where we made our next right as we slowly found our way back to Mountainair.

As Danielle and I meander the back-roads of New Mexico we sing, talk of every subject imaginable, and just enjoy the drive and the company.

Let’s look at another memorable day. On this spontaneous day trip we were just driving to no where in particular. As we meandered west on Highway 60 out of Mountainair, we came across a sign for the town of La Joya. “Let’s see where this road goes,” and we were off. The paved road ended about 9 miles from the turn-off. This was another itty-bitty town. Very few business, a few houses, a church and a schoolhouse, but otherwise somewhat deserted. As we drove slowly through this very tiny village, we came across an amazing piece of art. At first we were not sure what we were looking at. It looked like a downed tree but as we got closer we saw that it indeed was a downed tree but the roots had been carved to create an amazing depiction. Carved from the roots and trunk of this tree was a depiction of Jesus, the Christ, carrying the cross. It was such an impressive and overwhelming carving. It was both inspirational and motivating. Danielle and I got out of the car and stood in awe for quite a long time, taking in the overwhelming feeling that encompassed us as we took in this divinely inspired creation. It is in these special unplanned moments that we feel as if we were divinely led to this special experience.

When Danielle and I returned to our car, neither of us spoke for some time. We both remained in these moments of sacred reverence for several moments. As we compared notes on what we had just seen, we couldn’t stop talking about how the experience had affected each of us. A moment that remains with us to this day.

Michelangelo would say that he saw his masterpiece inside the uncarved block of marble. I think the same could be said for the artists who created these masterpieces.

This small town of La Joya receives very little traffic. Situated at the dead end of a road, nine miles from the nearest highway and only one way in and out, you can see that little traffic comes to this small village. These masterpieces were created for the few who live here and of course, as the divine imagination of the artist. There are only two or three businesses in the area and very little reason for anyone to come to this town, unless of course, it is on a day trip to nowhere with the one you love. No plans and no time limits. Just a glorious and wonderful day of meandering and discovering.

Spontaneous trips and the fun of discovering new things with people you love, and days filled with surprises!

This is a story of an deep and trusting friendship. I am reminded of friendships such as that of biblical King David and Jonathon as they out maneuvered King Saul, or in more recent years, Gale Sayers and Brian Piccolo as depicted in Brian’s Song, a movie about these two Chicago Bears football legends and their friendship. There are many others you can think of but in truth, my life has been filled with very few of these special friendships. True friends don’t come around that often and these deep and intimate friendships need to be nourished and enjoyed.. This is the story of friendship with my pal Jim.

When I first met Jim, he was my neighbor living across the street. Over the first few years of knowing each other, we had our ups and downs. We were both drinking heavily and had not yet found our way to sobriety. Jim was also the person I mentioned in my story of Miracles, Miracles, and Miracles who lost his sobriety during our trip to Mexico. I am pleased to say that he once again rejoined the land of the living upon his return home. When Jim and I were drinking, we only seemed to tolerate each other but in sobriety we found a kinship that has lasted over the decades.

Jim and I just seemed to click. We enjoyed many of the same things, among them deep sea fishing. I remember on one of our long range fishing trips to Guadalupe Island in Mexico. This was an eight day trip on a boat we had chartered along with 12 others. We were at sea all of the eight days and we did our fishing in and around Guadalupe Island, known for having some of the largest resident Yellow Tail in the Pacific.

The island was uninhabited except for a few hard hat divers who dove for Abalone. These same divers would come out to where we were anchored and start throwing lobster on the boat in exchange for anything we would give to them. They especially loved chocolate candy bars. In return we would end up with more lobster than we knew what to do with. The first night we’d get a barbecue going on the fantail of the boat and have a steaming cauldron of sea water going in the galley.
We’d throw our steak on the barbi and grab a lobster out of the bait tank and put it into the pot in the galley. Steak and lobster at its best.

One night Jim slipped a lobster shell into my bunk. I remember climbing into my bunk and as I slid beneath the covers, my foot hit something cold, wet, and spiny. I came out of that bunk like my butt was on fire. What in the heck was that? I warily pulled the covers back and found the lobster shell lying in the bed. Jim was so afraid of “pay back” that he sat up all night instead of facing me. I thought it was a great prank and didn’t concern myself with getting even.

I remember the first time we talked about taking the kids fishing. Jim said we should take the kids to Happy Jack’s. That was a small pond filled with trout. It was a fish farm and any cast would immediately result in catching a fish. Almost literally like catching fish in a rain barrel. We had to pay for the fish but Jim thought it would be good for the kids to take their own rods and reels instead of using those provided at the pond. The kids could cast their own lines, reel in their catch and allow them to develop confidence in their fishing abilities. It was lots of fun but since we had five kids between us, it often cost us a small fortune as we had to pay for the fish we caught. The kids learned to clean their fish and we would eat the trout for dinner. Our wives were not so happy about paying for this pleasure. Our wives were also best friends. Kathy and Barbara had known each other since childhood and we would often hear from one of them say as we were eating, “I wonder how much that bite cost?” Barbara and Kathy never really learned the value of making a memory. Today, I know that this remains one of my children’s cherished memories.

As a follow-up we often took our kids fishing at Foster Lake near Idyllwild, California. Jim’s dad had a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by tall pine trees, blue sky and at 7,000 feet, plenty of fresh air. Jim would take his two boys and his daughter and I’d take my son and daughter and we’d go to the lake to teach our kids to fish. This was a much larger lake and the kids used their skills learned at Happy Jack’s to catch trout in this beautiful lake setting.

While at the cabin, Jim and I would often drive to nearby Lake Hemet and fish, just the two of us. This was usually in the late afternoon and early evening hours. During these times we reflected on our lives and the conversations often became much deeper as we shared intimate details of our lives, our hopes, our dreams, our failures, our relationships and more. We shared a trust in each other that what we told each other stayed with each other. A rare commodity today. I always felt comfortable around Jim and we blended together easily.

We also shared a love for poker. Once a month, Jim and his wife and my wife and I, along with two other couples got together to have dinner and play poker. We played for low stakes and nobody ever lost more than five or six bucks. The real trophy was who was the biggest winner of the night. Jim or me. Who was the BIG KAHUNA? Not sure how the name originated but the winner wore that title until the next month’s poker party. If Jim had been the big winner, I could rest assured there would be a large poster on his front door at the next poker get together. It would say in large letters, “WELCOME TO THE HOME OF THE BIG KAHUNA!” And of course I would engage in some of that same behavior, all in good fun. I would sometimes sneak to his house before the party and place my own poster over his. Great fun!

It seemed that whenever our families visited together, Jim and I always found time to be apart from them to have some alone time with each other. As I remember our times together, I am warmed as I immerse myself in these memories. We would go for walks in the mountains and talk on a variety of subjects, often about fishing for trout or dove hunting. But we also spoke of those things we would never share with another human being. Being with Jim was always a very special time.

Jim was more than a friend. He was a confidant and someone I could always rely on to be there for me and the same could be said for me. Maybe it’s because guys don’t always let their feelings or deepest thoughts be shared with another guy. Or maybe it’s that Jim and I seemed to always be on the same page of music. We just enjoyed each others company. It wasn’t like we were joined at the hip. We often did not see each other for weeks at a time, but when we did it was like we had never left. I think the best thing for me is not to over think our friendship, just let it be what it is and enjoy it. Sadly these times were to come to an end sooner than they should have.

Jim died one morning from a stomach ulcer that ruptured. I had not seen Jim for a couple of weeks. Kathy and I were going through a divorce at the time. Apparently Kathy was angry with me and decided to punish me by not telling me of Jim’s death until after the funeral. I guess she was afraid of seeing me with Jim’s family. I was hurt and devastated to have not been allowed to attend to my friend and his family following his passing.

I knew needed to spend some alone time to honor Jim’s passing. My special spot was high in the mountains. A two hour drive from North Hollywood led me to an 8,000 foot campground on Mount Abel. This campground was always nearly deserted as it was rustic. No running water and pit toilets. But the surroundings were beautiful. Tall pines with amazing views of the landscape several thousand feet below. Sunrises and sunsets to die for and it was quiet. Only the noise of the wind rustling through the pines and the songs of the birds. And during the week I could count on being the only camper. The perfect place to get away for a few days of alone time.

One morning I was out walking when I had an eerie feeling that I was not alone. On the trail I was walking was a very large fallen pine tree. The trunk was nearly six feet in diameter and the tree was at least 50 feet long. I climbed up on this fallen log and lost myself in the silence and the beauty that surrounded me. I was in meditation when I realized that Jim was sitting next to me. He was very much alive. I began telling him how sorry I was to have not been there for him and how sorry I was to have missed his memorial service. Jim told me not to concern myself. He was here now and we would have the chance to spend some time together to say our goodbyes. Jim, as usual, was talking up a storm. He was telling me stories and jokes I had not heard before, and was telling me how great it is on the other side. He spoke of our friendship and how he honored the love and trust we felt and carried for each other. He also said something that has stayed with me ever since. He said, “Ray, if you ever need me, I am as close to you as I am now. Just think the words and I’ll be there.” And he has been. I often hear his voice in my quiet hours, letting me know that everything is fine, that we’re as close as we were when we were fishing. He also reminded me that he was the Big Kahuna! We said goodbye to each other and then he departed as quickly as he had arrived.

I know that many of you have had similar experiences with loved ones and others will scoff that these things don’t happen. I am not here to convince you one way or the other, I am just telling my experience with my friend.

Jim passed away nearly 40 years ago but he and I remain as close as we ever were. Friends never pass away. True friendships stand the test of time and eternity. We’ll be seeing each other again! Vaya Con Dios, Compadre!

Each year the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department has a reunion in Laughlin, Nevada. It is attended by nearly a thousand retirees of which Ray is one. Here is his story in his own words.

There are so many attendees at the reunion, (which lasts for 3 ½ days) that it is impossible to know everyone or to even spend time with everyone I do know. At this reunion each year is John Jones. (Name Changed). John is one of those people that disgusts me and I prefer to never be around. I go out of my way to avoid this person. He is a non-entity to me and I have zero respect for this man.

During my time working detectives on the Sheriff’s Department, John was assigned to work burglaries. John was one of those people who was a “do nothing”. He did not work his cases, we caught him throwing cases into the waste basket and ignoring good leads that would bring a successful conclusion to a case. Things were so bad with John and his behavior so poor that we worked to have John removed from the unit and hopefully terminated from the Department.

My partner went so far as to bring allegations to the attention of the Lieutenant we worked for. He eventually testified against John at a civil service administrative hearing. As a result, John was given a suspension and removed from the unit but not terminated from the Department.

At our annual reunions, just the sight of John sickened me.

When Danielle and I were first married, I invited her to accompany me to the reunion. I was eager for her to meet my old friends and see a part of my life she had not been apart of before. I spent time telling her about the wonderful people I had worked with over my 34 year career and my hopes of her meeting these friends.

The day finally arrived and we traveled from New Mexico to Nevada and on Sunday afternoon we walked into the large room which would accommodate us. We had a marvelous afternoon as I introduced Danielle to old friends and she listened so many of the stories we would recount.

At one point, Danielle excused herself from the table to get some refreshments and as she returned I saw her with John in tow. She was pulling him by his hand towards our table. My heart sunk. What the heck was she doing with him? As she neared the table, she was saying, “look who I found, someone who worked where you worked.” She asked me if I knew him and of course I replied that I did. Danielle was so pleased with herself and happy that to save her from embarrassment I reached out my hand to John and said hello. He sheepishly shook my hand.

I went through the normal pleasantries of how was he doing, where was he living, what was he doing with himself. All the while Danielle was so proud of herself believing she had found one of my old friends.

As we were talking, John asked if he could talk to me privately. We stepped a few feet away from the table and it was then that John explained that he wanted to apologize for his behavior years before. He went on to say that he had been experiencing some personal problems, had developed a drinking problem, had attended a twelve step program and was now dealing with his own alcoholism and with his son’s. He said he had seen my name published in the Star News, a monthly Sheriff’s Department publication that goes out to all current and retired members of the Department. My name is listed as a contact for anyone needed help with alcoholism.

As John spoke, I felt my heart opening. For the first time I saw John as a human being. He was honest, open and forthright about his past. He asked if I could forgive him. As my heart continued to open, I began to feel love for this man and actually had a tear come to my eye.

I remember putting my hand on his shoulder and then on his cheek as I thanked him for talking with me. I even gave him my personal contact information so he could send me his e-mail information and I could put him on the mailing list for the monthly newsletter I write to several hundred cops and firefighters in recovery from alcoholism. We both parted with smiles on our faces.

I often refer to Danielle as an angel sent by God to me. In this case I really did believe that was who she was. She certainly was the catalyst that started this process of forgiveness with John.

As I reveled in the circumstances that had just occurred, I continued to process the events that had transpired. As I reflected on all that had happened, I was reminded that there were certain cases of mine that I had worked where my diligence in solving a case could have been called into question. I had no business continuing to harbor resentments when my house was not always in order.

I will always (and I do mean always) be thankful to God and to his angel Danielle for the precious moments I spent with John. I will treasure them in my heart.

Both Danielle and John have since passed away but their lesson for me is not forgotten.

When I met Danielle, my life changed forever. It seems I had finally found what had eluded me for so many years. And with that came a whole new perspective on life.

For one thing singing and dancing had become a part of my life I had not envisioned. Danielle is very musically inclined. She plays both folk and classical guitar, plays a decent piano, and recently completed classes to play the ukulele.

On one of our trips, shortly after getting married, we talked of finding a way to work with people that had been forgotten. Often the elderly lived alone or in an assisted living home. Danielle to them as “the throw away people.” People who were often forgotten by family and friends.

We discussed how we might create a ministry to support these people. An idea began to form as we thought of our love of music and singing. We thought of putting together a performance that would bring some fun and joy to others. Maybe we could put together a show that would include a few familiar hymns along with some contemporary classic songs. We would include some humorous stories along with the cowboy poetry I liked to recite. And that’s how it began.

Our first show was for an old friend, Biddie McMath. I first met Biddie when I was looking for a book her husband had written many years before about the history of the town of Mountainair, New Mexico. I was in the process of moving from Los Angeles to New Mexico and was interested in the local history. Through a bit of investigation I was able to get in touch with Biddie via email and that began a wonderful relationship that has gone on with her and her husband Gorden for many years. She and Gorden were so gracious in sharing their memories and the history of this tiny town of 984 people. Both had been born in the area and each, now in their eighties, had a rich knowledge of the local history. After moving to town, Biddie and I spent many hours discussing her history of the area. Gorden was also very accommodating. He had been the county Sheriff and town Marshall before retiring, so we had that law enforcement background in common. Biddie was in her 80’s and Gorden in his 90’s when I met them. They had been married for who knows how many years and had known each other since childhood.

When Gorden passed away, Biddie moved into an assisted living home. I often visited Biddie and it was during one of these visits that I asked her if she would be open to Danielle and I performing and using her and the other residents as guinea pigs for our performance. They enthusiastically agreed and we had our first performance.We sang our hymns and old time songs and told stories. We sang In the Garden, How Great Thou Art, You are My Sunshine, Puff the Magic Dragon and many more.The residents were invited to sing along and they did so in unrestrained voices. The residents were genuinely pleased and praised our performance. We were even invited back. And that’s how we began.

We also began performing at the Bee Hive, a larger assisted living home in the same vicinity.

W so much enjoyed getting together with these wonderful folks. Friendships were developed as we saw these people often during our regular performances. All of the residents got together in a common area where Danielle played the guitar and we both sang together. Ray recited cowboy poetry and humorous stories. Songs like In the Garden and Puff the Magic Dragon were always among the favorites that we sang. Alvin, one of the residents, enjoyed playing his guitar with us as we sang My Darling Clementine. Sadly, Alvin passed away a short time later but not before we had established a great friendship with him.

Ruby and Mary Ellen were two of our favorite residents. Ruby had lived in Mountainair and was actually one of the reasons we started performing at the Bee Hive. She and Mary Ellen were so full of life. They joked and told stories with us and shared other more personal stories from their past. We were often invited into their rooms to talk before or after our performances.

One day we were returning home from Albuquerque after a day of shopping. As we were driving past the Bee Hive we decided to stop and visit with our friends. We didn’t have our instruments with us and were not going there to perform. It was a chance for us to stop and say howdy.

I was most interested in visiting with my friend, George, a U.S. Air Force retiree. George and I had spoken of his experiences traveling around the world but never really had the time to spend more than a few minutes together. As I sat with George during this visit, Danielle was visiting with a group of ladies. It should have come as no surprise that soon Danielle and this group of ladies were singing some of the songs we regularly performed. As they sang I continued talking with George.

George and I concluded our visit and as I walked over to Danielle and her group, she said, the ladies want us to sing. What? I wasn’t prepared to sing, (I thought). I’m still not sure what caused me to do this, but I stopped dead in my tracks and turned my back to the group. I then put my shirt collar up around my neck and turned around again. In an over exaggeration of Elvis Presley, I began to sing The Battle Hymn of the Republic as I had heard Elvis perform it on a recording. I did my best to sing it in his style of vibrato while swiveling my hips. As I sang, I really accentuated the movement of my hips in an effort to be Elvis. These movements were probably more provocative than planned.

As I was doing this impromptu performance and nearing the finish, Mary Ellen covered her eyes and shouted, “I can’t watch this, I’m Catholic!” Ruby, who was sitting next to her, immediately shouted out, “Do it again, do it again!” The room erupted in a huge belly laugh of uncontrolled laughing.

Well, I’ve performed it again on another occasion and Mary Ellen is fine with it as I have toned it down and now we can laugh about it.

Several of these people have passed on but not before enriching our lives as we never could have imagined.