A MATTER OF SCIENCE,
by Ray CummingsI’VE BEEN a cop for thirty years and it gripes me to have my young squirt of a son tell me how to run my business. Young people think they know everything. That’s all right with me, if they’d only shut up about it. Sure I’m a flatfoot. Rookie, patrolman, motorcycle, corner traffic, Desk Sergeant—in thirty years I’ve been them all. Now I’m Police Detective. Timothy McCarr, just old man Mac to the boys, and you never heard of me. That’s okay, why should you? I’m just like thousands of others, only maybe older than average; they all do a swell routine job and you seldom hear of them.
But my kid Alan, who’s twenty-two and a Senior at College, he thinks I cought to operate like Sherlock Holmes or something.
“You’re too old fashioned, dad.” That’s his song.
