A few kind words can work wonders for our law enforcement officers

County Commissioner Vanessa Baugh is a hugger by nature, from a long line of huggers.

She admits at times, a handshake just isn't good enough, and that means a good samaritan might just be surprised with an affection squeeze.

Such can be the case when Baugh sees Col. Rick Wells working the Lakewood Ranch area. Wells, who is the No. 2 man at the Manatee County Sheriff's Department and who is running for sheriff, gets to the east Manatee County area quite often as part of his duties.

When Baugh sees him, she will give him a little hug to say thanks for his service to the community. She wants to let him know that the citizens in our area think of him as just a regular guy.

But he's not a regular guy.

When Baugh gives him a hug, it's impossible not to feel the bullet proof vest he wears under his shirt. "What other profession has to wear a bullet-proof vest to work?" Baugh said.

As we drive down the tranquil roads throughout Lakewood Ranch, and we see the Sheriff's Department vehicle parked along the side of the road, we probably aren't thinking about bullet-proof vests. We glance down at the speedometer and wonder whether 11 miles over the speed limit is going to land us a ticket.

The guys or gals in the uniforms are mostly faceless. What a nice job they have, working an area where the biggest offenses are traffic violations, pets allowed to run wild and trespassers fishing in area ponds.

If only that was true.

Then we wouldn't have any need for the Manatee County Law Enforcement Memorial Service held May 19 in front of the Manatee County Courthouse. The service honors the nine law enforcement representatives who lost their lives in the line of duty in Manatee County.

With 67 counties in Florida, and each hosting similar services, it's easy to be overwhelmed.

We should be overwhelmed, too, at the very least once a year when we ponder the dangers associated with their job. I understand all the rewarding features of the job, the giving nature and sacrifice that puts police officials in a class with firemen or paramedics. A lot of satisfaction has to go along with saving a life or preventing a dangerous situation from getting worse.

Unfortunately, out of necessity, the dark side of the job exists, where our law enforcement personnel have to deal with the criminal element, the kind of people most of us avoid at all costs. It can be a dirty job, and I certainly have never had a desire to do it. I appreciate those who do.

I often consider a brief confrontation I had with police officers in Chicago. After covering a college basketball game and leaving the area, my rental car was pulled over by a swarm of police cars that approached out of nowhere. A fellow writer and myself were instructed to get out of the car with our hands up.

We did as commanded only to see about eight policemen, surrounding us and pointing guns. As we stood on each side of the car, hands raised, we heard one of the policemen explain to us they were searching for a man who had just assaulted someone near the arena. He was driving a car similar to our rental.

My friend, who never misses an opportunity to crack a joke, replied, "We haven't beaten anyone up in a week."

It obviously cut through the tension, and in a heartbeat, the police were gone. We looked at each and smiled, as we still had our hands up in the air.

The point is that those police had no idea what they were going to encounter when they pulled the car over. It might have been a life and death situation.

It was a lesson Wells learned in 1986 when working with the Florida Highway Patrol's Jeffrey Young, who was a training officer. Wells was getting into Young's police car without wearing a bullet-proof vest and Young told him "No way." He read him the proverbial riot act.

"I never got into a (police) vehicle again without wearing a vest," Wells said.

On Aug. 18, 1987, Young was shot and killed during a traffic stop on Interstate 75 in east Manatee County after he located a large amount of cocaine. During the Manatee County Law Enforcement Memorial Service, Wells talked about the murder of his friend as several hundred members of the community mourned with him 29 years later. It is a hurt that won't disappear.

During his speech, Wells remembered driving around in a fog after Young's death when a man pulled up alongside him and asked him to roll down the window. He told Wells how sorry he was he lost his comrade, and noted his appreciation for the work the Sheriff's Department does for the community. At the time, it meant the world to Wells.

It is a reason Baugh hopes members of our safe and quiet community take the time to acknowledge their service. It shouldn't take the death of a law enforcement official for us to realize they put their lives on the line daily.

As Baugh points out, "When they tell their loved ones good-bye in the morning, they just don't know..."