What you’re looking at is the first two generations of police officers in my family. On the left is my grandfather, Tomas, and on the right, my great grandfather Manuel. Is it any wonder my father wanted to be a cop. He never finished the third grade so that was out. He became a bus driver and my uncle Marcelo followed suit. But my aunt married a cop, and their son became a cop. Marcelo’s daughter, Georgina, married a cop. So, there’s something there. It’s hard to tell if my grandfather inherited other traits, such as a propensity for violence, alcoholism, and womanizing. My father inherited two out of three of those, but he always came off like a dry drunk to me. My cousin was a highway patrolman and wore boots much like these. He may have also succumbed to our family disease. When my aunt died, he had all his colleagues give her the greatest police escort I’ve ever been a part of. She’s buried next to my uncle, only a few miles away from where I teach. I think about visiting but have yet to do it. The grandchildren and great grandchildren are spread out all over the East Coast. None of us had the chance to know them. My grandfather deserted my grandmother and never looked back. My father helped them get by for a time.