Second Lives/Former Lives

                                                                Second Lives

Those of us who have elected to live in this community of the no longer young share one common characteristic: we all lived former lives that involved coping with the seemingly endless challenges that adventure posed.  As we adjust to the new challenges of our second life, it might be interesting to learn of those first lives of our current neighbors.  However those first lives went, the excitement of the game touched us all.  We will check with some neighbors here.  

                                                           Lewis Wilson Barrett

Lou and his wife, Mary, have lived in Russellville Park since 2016, moving here from California to be near their two sons. In his former life,  Lou worked as a highway traffic officer for the state of California until his law enforcement career abruptly ended when he was only 45 years old.  He was standing behind the open door of his patrol car, writing a ticket for a speeder he had stopped when he suddenly pitched forward into the front seat.  He remembers thinking, "What the...?" But then he recovered and delivered the citation to the speeder.  It was a few days later when he was with his patrol partner that the real one hit. Now he knew he was in trouble and he told his partner, "You better get me to a hospital." The heart attack put an end to the job he loved, a traffic officer cruising California highways.  Those heart-pounding 110 miles per hour car chases,  the spin outs, the crashes and most of all, the camaraderie with his fellow road warriors.

Lou and his partner saw a car parked on the shoulder of the road with the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Lou approached the driver's side and rapped  on the window with no response so opening the door he shook the driver awake. "Do you know you were going over 85 miles an hour, weaving in and out of traffic when we pulled you over?" Lou said to him.  "And who was that guy who jumped out of the car and ran across the field?" Lou's partner asked him.  Trying to get himself together the driver stammered, "Oh, that was probably my brother but you'll never catch him 'cuz he's really fast." Lou gave him points for being smart enough to pull over and stop driving so wrote him up for public drunkenness instead of the more serious charge of driving under the influence. 

Lou's mother, Marjorie Barrett, brought her six and a half pound son into this vale of tears having provided him with all the essential attachments and a loud voice to acknowledge his new circumstance.  He was given the name of his great, great paternal grandfather on the 28th day of January, 1942.  It is worth noting that both his father and Superman were born in the same small town of Metropolis, Illinois and became good friends although his father thought the cape thing and the big "S" on his chest was a bit ostentatious.  While there was no report of any celestial event marking Lou's birth,  America was still in shock over the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor 52 days prior to his arrival.

In his growing up years Lou's family, which included a younger sister, Suzzanne, moved often from one small town to another following his father's job changes as a barber.  His father's alcoholism contributed to the troubled environment of the family but it only strengthened Lou's inner resolve to deal with it.  In 12 years of schooling he attended 13 different schools so that making new friends became a valuable personal skill that served him all his life.  As a young man in his early 20s Lou had his own experience with alcohol, waking up one morning in 1971 after a night of drinking and feeling awful he said to himself, I don't ever want to feel this way again. And he never did. For the rest of his life he would have a beer from time to time with friends but that was it: a beer, rarely two.  End of the alcohol story.

In Lou's senior year of high school his family made a major move from Illinois to California. It was goodbye old friends and hello La La Land.  After high school all those World War II babies became fodder for a military misadventure in the jungles of Vietnam.  Being drafted into the army was at the top of Lou's list of things he did not want to do so he enlisted in the United States Navy. After two years he was mustered out with no battle scars and no tattoos. Hopping from one job to another he made a move he had thought about ever since he was a little kid: he applied to and was accepted into the California Highway Patrol (wearing thick soled shoes to qualify for the the 5'10" height requirement).   

The 16 weeks training academy was intense and separated the contenders from the pretenders. Up every morning at 5:00 AM for physical training, a hearty breakfast, then power classes with tests at the end of every week.  Two failed tests and you were gone.  Graduation from the academy sent you to riding with a training officer after which you were assigned to an area as a California Highway Patrolman.  Look out motorized miscreants. 

His new partner, Ezra Chaeffer, was a big guy, 6' 6" and 265 pounds, a couple of  years older than Lou, making Ezra a commanding presence in any confrontation.  Once chasing down a young speeder, they had him pulled over and were talking to him at the rear of his vehicle which he had left partially blocking the road.  When Lou asked the kid to move the car off to the shoulder the kid replied, "You want it moved, move it yourself."  Ezra, who was standing behind Lou, reached around him and snatched the kid by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground and almost knocking Lou in his head with the kid's knees as he brought him around and said something in his ear.  Then Ezra returned the kid to where he had been standing before. Ezra said to Lou, "Ask him again."  The car was quickly moved.  Lou never asked his partner what he said to the kid.

"I've got a girl I want you to meet," Ezra told Lou one day. "She is special." Married people believe all single people should be married.  Lou laughed him off but Ezra didn't let it go until Lou said, "Okay, how do I meet her?"  Ezra made the call.

Mary Mapes was two years younger than Lou's 28 and had recently completed a four year tour in the US Air Force. Mary was a looker.  Bright and funny.  Her father was a Sergeant in the San Luis Obispo's Sheriff Department. Matchmaker Ezra had scored a direct hit and 17 days after the blind match up, the two veterans were speeding over the Donner Pass in a snowstorm, destination Reno, Nevada. 

                                  Go'in to the chapel 'un wer  Go'in to get married 

Who needs long engagements?   

The sweet mystery of life is how reality's flow from the time of Lou's birth, moment by moment through all the years of good times and bad; the constant moving, the family drama, his membership in his church, all the events combined to create the moral core of the man.  He became the cop you want flashing those blue and red lights in your rearview mirror.  Lou's prime directive was the Golden Rule: treat people the way you want to be treated.  Of course, some people just don't want to be treated nicely.

At any given time during the years of his second life you might find Lou Barrett pushing a cart through the halls of Russellville Park, picking up donation of items from the residents that will go to places such as shelters for abused women and children.  Or promoting the donations from Russellville residents  to the staff member's annual Christmas fund. That's what he does now.  That's who he is.