My Future(s) InSecurity(ies): Uniforms.

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Paula in Security Uniform by Kate Spade


Yes, believe it or not, I worked in Security. And, I must like uniforms because

  • I was a cheerleader AND in pep club. So, I rarely got to wear my own clothes to school. Sad, but then, not.
  • My school didn’t have a dress code or uniform. Midriffs were FINE in the 70s for the policemen in our parking lot were focused on students OD’ing on school property and had somewhat “locked it down” with open school and 6th-7th hour “off.” So, I’m getting to the fact that Carolyn Howard, our Sue Sylvester, MADE SURE that we had to wear
    • Lancer blue girdle swimming suits and
    • a red romper (not EVEN Our Colors!) for gym.
    • Point: Ms. Howard made sure there was nothing remotely SEXY about gym, even if the school administration (largely men) had larger problems to contain and were ignoring (? uh huh…) the teenage girls’ sexuality vis-a-vis stomach or chest visibility in dress code.
  • I worked at the pool in the summers, so I alternated two navy blue tank suit 6 days a week for 8 hours. I’m sure the guy lifeguards’ gym short swimming suits could walk on their own.

An excellent qualification: I have a history with uniforms.

So, it was nothing strange to be wearing this Security Uniform at a large ‘beaux arts’  museum in Kansas City, I won’t mention the name, at least for now.

Here is my uniform there. I’m not sure if this was really allowed, so just pretend I’ve blacked out any name of the museum. It’s backwards so that’s kind of encrypted.



This is how I looked on duty so you can see the whole gig. A gentleman I didn’t know took these pictures and later sent them to me. Nice or creepy? I’ll take nice, kept the pictures.

Was I really behind bars??

And as I’ve enjoyed all kinds of “social” uniforms such as:

  • kilts in college,
  • fair isle sweaters (but never buttoned up the back though I wanted to) at functions,
  • ballet flats in France.
  • NOTHING feels quite as good as a real uniform that (usually*) looks just like anyone else’s and carries with it a badge of authority.
    • *that is, I was reprimanded (nicely) about pushing the boundaries. And I’m sorry, the T-SHIRT advertising of the show that we wore on occasional Fridays was an XTRA large, so it really needed a WIDE BLACK BELT.

I hope to somehow have a future in Security Work, though my recent behavior may have eliminated me from the running. I’m making amends slowly, but

  • I can be trusted and
  • I am honest TO A FAULT and
  • I hope the period of “crazy” is coming to an end
    • or at least subsiding,
    • (or at least in presence of my fellow authorities in security and law enforcement.)

To this decade…’to Security and Beyond!’

We will get there.

“…if ya don’t say it’s a Fine Mornin’, I’ll shoot-cha!” The Sheriff of Mission Farms.

by admin

Sun’s comin’ up over the waterin’ hole…

concrete’s a-mixin’….

Rye’s pies a-bakin’

Concrete’s a-churnin’….

An’ I’ve a yearnin’ to share my story….


I never needed resumé or an interview, I just knew it was mine.

I actually knew that this general area was my calling where I lived before, except I had a different badge.

Here’s a picture of that perch. I think Rose really felt she had to patrol most of the time, but I still put out my shingle. I’ll put her picture first, as she’s always telling me I’m stealing her show and probably correct.


Can you see how I wore it?


Here, I’ll zoom in….


Who wudda’ thunk after never working my way out of the Prairie Village kiddie pool complex, that I’d end up by this Village?

Right here by the pool and grills… 2nd floor just right to somewhat ‘see and only kinda’ be seen’, close enough to leap if I saw the need? Chuck Beatty my old boss would be proud.

I mean, I barely passed the written Red Cross Test at PV Pool and quite certainly failed the near-drowning carry. Yes, my diving pool rescue drew blood upon the back of my victim as I hoisted (scraped-drug) him across the pool gutter to the safety of pavement.

Yet here I was again, at a different Village Pool, now in a very HIGH chair, my sign in place. Like the kiddie pool, it needed a Small Woman around to Keep Order.

Actually, to be honest with you, the Prairie Village Kiddie Pool really could have used some guy guards…

David and Mike tired of that hike down from the basket room when Dirty Old Flasher showed up in his loose ones, ‘goin’ Cowboy’ as my sister from Rochester, New York sez’. We never used that term on the ranch. 

And, I’m thinking it might have been mutual enjoyment for the young mothers to have them around. Or at least, they might not get a dirty look when doing the job.

I averted many a resusci-baby, [carefully watching & waiting so as not to overstep my bounds or cause embarrassment], but was always ready for the occasional

swoop underwater uplift rescue with a cheeryup-seeee!”‘

inadvertently interrupting an intense ‘moms’ conversation. We’ve all been there, it’s in no way a criticism

  • but my point is that one must have broad shoulders to do important work.

Now, I’ve already gone off on a tangent,

…but sometimes one must stop along the way to adequately fill in the blanks on the resumé

in the event that someone questions that I’m qualified

…to self-appoint my-self as

The Sheriff of Mission Farms, East side.

I won’t get into my responsibilities on the West Side of Mission, that’s another story. But, to vaguely reference, sometimes one has to put one’s boot in my mouth to understand exactly what motivated me to hang that PV Pool Plaque.

Let’s just say that

  • unless one is there in an Official Capacity (no one was really aware of this at the time when I lived there)
  • and even if all kinds of events like Father’s Day and the 4th brought dads, kids, families to the complex
  • that it’s best not to say to the cute girl on the elevator, “is this your dad?” no matter  how similar the resemblance. (honest mistake, I think she had a floatie)
  • Trust me on this one. It got ugly a few nights later on the back streets of 105th when I was confronted by her dad & young buddy drinking some beers….appears I’d seriously ‘messed that one up’, but that wasn’t the word.
  • I’d apologized, and this wasn’t good. Best to stop talking, so I will on that.

But this was a sign, this first sign, that was pointing me in this direction of my new Post, Sheriff East Side. And upon my departure, Doug & Anne, high school friends, rented my place: #206. It was important that I’d been in this position first, why else would they have taken over as Scouts if it weren’t also to urge me to head East?

So, I’m now here, have been for six months. And a few weeks ago, I received this email.

Screen Shot 2014-05-09 at 7.40.01 PM

We corresponded for a few days, about art, making stuff, writing, SME Halls, families, firecrackers at graduation (yes, Greg did it), work, and belt size.

And, a few days later this arrived by way of his brother’s salon in Old Overland Park, fitting.


KC Kid. Belt by Greg Lyle, Old Wheel Gun Shop, Seattle.

KC Kid. This was all it took, the Job was Mine. I was needed back East.

So that’s the story of how I became

  • The Sheriff of Mission Farms, (Leawood Patrol).
    The Sheriff of Mission Farms.

    The Sheriff of Mission Farms.

But, of course, there’s more to the story…

And more beautiful pictures of my Decoration: the Holster, Star badge, bullet loops…

And always some ‘learnin’ me’, as Henry would say. Gun 101.

Ya’ll stay posted….

I’ll be at mine.

Thank you, Greg.  

My beautiful best friend Marfa

by admin

Once upon a time it started with going to camp at Sherwood Forrest. We flew to Minneapolis and took a 6 hr. bus ride to Deer River. The camp director was Maxine Gunsolly with assistant and companion Helen. I think Maxine was a Pi Phi with Marthe’s mom Georgeanne Dreher.

"Paula Adams and Marthe Dreher"

Paula and Marthe en route to Sherwood Forrest Camp, KCI, circa 1973

Paula: some kind of platform I can’t google on internet for posterity, man hair, polyester with collar (see trendy never pays), macrame by Paula (see handmade). Marthe’s snoopy pudding pillow, corduroy bells, baretraps.


I first fell in love as we all do with Marthe’s beautiful smile, straight hair, tibetan eyes and sense of style. The dry humor and all the sister beauty and Dick Dreher health tips sealed the deal.

The first day of Jr. high Marthe wore a brown polka-dotted silk once piece skort with brown suede clogs, probably a hand-me-down. I don’t have a picture so I may have to draw one and post it.

Mothers, fathers, guys, sons, daughters and sadness all came later, and the laughing is forever. That’s all for now.