Lord, They're in our hands tonight, Yours and mine-

        Those guys who keep the peace and fight the crime.

       They're men, with wives and families, and feelings, too

    They give themselves for our protection, those men in blue.

 

                      I know my part in this is crucial, too.

                        I must inform those men in blue,

                       When trouble strikes, and where.

                And send them quickly, no time to spare.

 

                    I cannot see the scene from where I sit.

            My eyes and ears scan the console, brightly lit.

        I must wait in blind suspense to hear each "ten-four,"

      As they let me know they have survived one time more.

 

                I know a part of them that few others ever see-

  Their eyes reflecting scenes depicting how cruel life can really be.

      A bettered child, a senseless wreck, or a murderer set free,

                A brother-in-arms shot down, never more be.

 

            I'll make the coffee, and keep it fresh and strong.

            They'll stop by for a cup or two, but no to for long-

                Another call, a plea, or just a happenstance.

        Duty will beckon, "Come, time to take another chance."

 

                    I'll answer the phone and questions too.

            And dig out the stats and records they ask me to.

        I'll type the reports and of course, joke with them some.

    I'll even put off that reporter who dials in on "nine-one-one."

 

                        Let me, Lord, speak, calm and clear,

                        To those out there while I'm in here.

                            I'm their link, and they are mine

                        In this partnership of fighting crime.

 

                        It seems to me that we're all a team-

                            They, You, and me, I mean.

                        I'll do my best, and they will too.

            But, still Lord, we need You to see us through.

 

                                                                              Capt. Thomas D. Trent,

                                                                                Ford County Sheriff Office

                                                                                Dodge

 

Dispatcher Praise

                                        A call comes in

                                 9-1-1 has been dialed

                                    Someone's in need

                                      It could be a child

 

                                      Emotions run high

                                   A judgement is made

                                      One or more lives

                                   Might even be saved

 

                                The dispatchers are there

                                    To take all our calls

                                   The emotional strain

                                Must be hard on them all

 

                                    They pay a big price

                                So we're all more secure

                                     How they can do it

                                      I'm really not sure

 

                                   They take on the world

                                       One call at a time

                                This Thanksgiving I hope

                                You're as thankful as I am

 

                                                                        Laura Mansanarez,

                                                                        Blackfoot, Idaho

 

A Day in the Life of a Dispatcher

                           I leave my home and my family too

                            To go to the station my job to do,

                    My kids don't know when I'll work or I wont

                    My schedule's so crazy I sometimes don't!

                    It's hard to leave when my family's at home

                  But this shift will soon change, it won't be long.

 

                      I walk in the door and the first thing I see

                       Is the dispatcher on duty just before me.

                      With a quick rundown of the day's events,

                      A sympathetic smile and a couple of hints,

                         She's out the door and back to her life

                       And I whisper a prayer for safety tonight.

 

                     My two worlds are different in so many ways

                 The language we speak, the things that we say.

              At home it's, "Mom, can I have some more, please?"

                            And here, it's 10-4 and 10-29P's.

                   Though different at times they're similar too

                  Because someone's life is depending on you.

 

                         You answer the phone call after call-

                      A lost dog, a found cat, or nothing at all.

                 Then the phone rings and the voice on the line

                Is screaming for help and you know that it's time

               Your training takes over, you get help on the way,

                       As you dispatch units you silently pray.

 

              "Oh, Lord, please go with them where ever they go

               They're risking their lives for one they don't know.

                              For every officer I have to send

                     Is not just my co-worker but also my friend.

                            They have homes and families too,

            So I'm asking you, Lord, "Please see them through."

 

                   As the first of the officers arrive on the scene

                        You hear the radio beginning to sing.

                     Send Rescue, and Crime Scene, and CID

                      Get some more units and call 1, 2, and 3.

                        Send out a BOLO, call this girl's mom

               Have her go to the hospital but try to sound calm.

 

                  The crisis is over and they're back on patrol

                       And you know it's okay to lose control.

                       A couple of tears, a few minutes alone

                And back out you go to answer more phones.

              The music's too loud, there's a cow in the road

              The neighbors are watering in spite of the code.

 

                    The next dispatcher is a welcome site

             When she walks in and says, "Been a long night?"

               You give a quick rundown of the day's events,

                  A sympathetic smile and a couple of hints,

                And when the last  of my officers calls 10-42

                   Today my job's done and I go home too.

   

                                                                            Written by:

                                                                                Karen Whaley

                                                                                Arcadia Police Department

 

"Anonymous Voices"

                                                        We sit in a room...

                                                      So dark and small...

                                                            Waiting for...

                                                             A 911 call...

 

                                                    We listen to your voice...

                                                        And hear your pain...

                                                           We want to help...

                                      Although at times it seems to be in vain...

 

                                                    Our job isn't glamorous...

                                                               It isn't for all...

                                                         We're there to help...   

                                                     When you make that call...

 

                                                            There's crying..

                                                            And screaming...

                                                    And small voices in pain...

                                                     That breaks our hearts...

                                                But in that there's no shame...

 

                                                        To hear a small child...

                                                Scared because mom isn't home...

                                                   Or the voice of an old woman...

                                                     Who's husband just moans...

 

                                                        We don't ask for fanfare...

                                                               Or even a cheer...

                                                            It's enough to know...

                                                        That help is finally near...

 

                                                            Our job is to help...

                                                        To make you feel safe...

                                                   To make those long moments...

                                                       Go quickly as they came...

 

                                                       And at the end of the day...

                                                  When we can shut off our fears...

                                                           We get in our cars...

                                                         And shed a few tears...

 

                                               Because the next day we'll be back...

                                                         In a room dark and small...

                                                                    Waiting for...

                                                                     A 911 call...

 

                                                                                        Written by:

                                                                                        Lawrence Roche

                                                                                        Dispatcher for

                                                                                        Plainview Police Department

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
                                          
                                                           
  
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