Charlie Griggs was the littlest brother and the one his mother adored. He played high school basketball against Bill Bradley and came close to being signed by professional baseball's farm system.
But he went to college. The first one in his family, studying math no less. He made the mistakes common of small town boys going away to school and ended up spending his 21st birthday in Vietnam with one warm can of Coke and a fifth of Jack Daniels.
He was grateful to come home, not particularly annoyed with either the people who sent him there nor those who protested the war. He was serious about school this time and got his degree in Education.
The shortage of athletic male teachers who weren't sports coaches tracked him into a babysitting job for a classroom of incorrigible children and no resources to make a difference. He took a test and then a job with the INS in New York City -- a long way from Missouri.
He worked hard. He learned. He cared. His promotions had all been well ahead of schedule by the time they transferred him to Houston in the mid 70s. By 1983 his pioneering efforts as the Supervisory Special Agent in Charge of Alien Anti Smuggling earned him national honors from the International Poilice Chief's Association and Parade Magazine. No other INS agent had been so honored in the annual recognition before or since.
In Houston, he married, adopted a daughter, and surrendered virtually all he had to give to secure custody of his little girl in the subsequent divorce. The guys that worked for him said he would never ask them to break down a door that he wouldn't go through first. He went through many doors, worked undercover and had contracts on his life by smugglers.
Eventually he remarried, giving his wife and stepdaughter the same sense of safety and protection his daughter enjoyed. Affection isn't easy to him, but no one could doubt his unconditional love for all three.
He retired twice. Once from the INS and once again when his position teaching at the Federal Law Enforcement Academy was lost to buget cuts pre-9/11. It's no surprise they asked him to come back afterwards. His contract to teach ran until Jan. 06. He didn't have to go back the second time, but he wanted to make a difference , as well as give his daughters their college educations and his wife the chance to write fulltime. The family budget was stretched paper thin, but his turn would come and he gladly stepped up one one time.
Take every supercop stereotype you have and erase it. He's sitting in his arm chair right now watching the live Vote for Change feed on Sundance and telling our daughter about the show we saw in Orlando the other night. He's listening to all the artists, including the ones that send me to the blog. After all the ugly he's seen, his mind and heart remain open.
He believes in what America can be and has always been willing to do more than his part.
I'm married to him, but admit it.
You gotta respect the guy.
I wish our government would do the same.
On Friday, leading into a three-day federal holiday, they told him that while Homeland Security had an increase in its overall budget, the $57 million requested for training Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers was reduced to $0. His entire section would shut down and as of Tuesday he would be on "leave without pay."
Today we learn that ICE offices are being reduced across the nation, told to park their cars and release criminal aliens in their jails.
But the headlines say a Homeland Security increase was passed.
I don't feel particularly secure.
You shouldn't either.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs