Biography of Josh T

March 9, 2007, 9:15 am; posted by
Filed under Articles, Josh T  | 2 Comments

Who am I?

Let me tell you a story.

After I graduated from college, I took a job as a police officer in a small city in northwestern VT. I was living by myself in a small apartment, and like a kitten that had been taken away from its mother too soon, I didn’t know how to cook or take care of myself. It was very common for me to become hungry and discover I had no food in the apartment.

One day I received a care package from my folks. My mother had included a large family-sized tub of raisins; no doubt she was trying to promote healthy eating habits in her little kitten. I was hungry, and because I had no food in the house, I sat down in front of a National Geographic special about ants in the Amazon river valley, and proceeded to consume the entire tub of raisins.

Just as the last raisin passed between my lips and the narrator, in summation, cautioned that if man continued to intrude on the virgin rainforest, it would be destroyed forever, I realized it was time to go to work.

I was very new to the force, so every night I had to ride around on field training with a senior officer, who would evaluate my performance and help as I learned the job. Every week my field training officers would talk to me about how I was doing, and explain the written reports they were submitting to the Chief on my progress. That particular night, my senior officer was Cpl. Couture — a tough cop, built like a bear with a shaved head. Everything about him exuded professionalism and dedication.

I slipped into the passenger seat and we began a normal night of stopping cars, processing drunks, and responding to various crises and crimes. At approximately 3 am, as we came back through the city after a trip to the correctional facility, I suddenly felt the need to pee.

I asked Couture to pull over in a vacant lot so I could use a convenient snow bank. I never saw it coming, and I’ve never experienced anything like this before or since, but as I began to pee, my bowels evacuated themselves into my crisp, dry-cleaned police uniform.

Of course it was the raisins, eaten by that kitten, ripped too early from its mother’s care.

I stood there in front of the snow bank, raisin poop oozing out of my underpants and sliding down my legs, into my boots. My mind was blank. Panic is a sudden and/or overwhelming terror that destroys a person’s capacity for self-help, and that described me perfectly. There was no way to extricate myself from the situation without considerable damage to my reputation and standing in the law enforcement community. How would this read in Cpl. Couture’s written report, I wondered? “At approximately 0300 hours patrolman Tate advised this officer that he needed to pee… A short time later he returned to the cruiser and advised that he had defecated in his uniform.”

Never had I uttered such fervent prayers to my God. I prayed for some miracle, some diversion. It would have been preferable for aliens to suddenly land and begin their war against mankind than for me to walk back to that cruiser and try to explain what had happened… to explain the poop in my pants.

But after a few moments, I decided there was no way to avoid the inevitable embarrassment. I waddled back to the cruiser and told Cpl. Couture, “Uh…I don’t know how to say this but I…uh…well, you see…I pooped my pants.”

I had never wanted to swear so badly in my life. Somehow, it seemed worse that I had to say “poop” instead of “s***.”

Couture’s face was inscrutable. The radio crackled some traffic over the State Police channel. Green Day was playing.

“You pooped your pants?”
“Yeah, I did.”

He stared at me for a second or two — inscrutable. Then he popped the trunk and got out of the cruiser. He walked around to the trunk, pulled out some evidence bags, and handed them to me. “Put ’em down on the seat. I’ll drive you home,” he said.

We drove back to my place in silence. It was below zero outside, but we had the windows down as we drove through the quiet city. As I got out of the cruiser, he said, “Tate, what are you gonna tell the dry cleaner?”

“I don’t know…but listen, you better take this to the grave or I’ll put you there, man,” I said unconvincingly.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” he responded, equally unconvincingly.

He drove away and I walked inside, stripped and took a shower. I couldn’t sleep that night. I paced back and forth in my little apartment. That had been the lowest moment in my life. How could that have happened? How could I ever show my face at the police department again, or have a normal conversation with Cpl. Couture? I would forever be the guy who pooped his pants.

But surprisingly, Couture was a man of his word, and to my knowledge, he never told a soul about “the incident.” We actually became good friends and used to go fishing a lot together. We never once talked about the time I pooped my pants.

Why do I tell you this story? Because I want you to know me, and I believe that by exposing my soft underbelly you can learn more about me than any list of facts could provide.

I am a Christian, a poet, a husband and father, but I am also a man who once pooped his pants.

From the Bweinh!tributor page:
Josh T says:
I am a graduate of Houghton College, husband and father of three, who resides in the beautiful San Jacinto Mountains of Southern California. I was a police officer for a small city in northwestern VT before following God’s calling to So. Cal., where I work as Assistant Director at Camp Maranatha — a place of peace where God changes lives.

I am the founder and visionary of my own non-profit organization — Advocates of Planned Dwarfism, and I also serve as official ambassador from the Widjiwat Kingdom to the United States of America.

I am a Christian. I am a poet. I am cherished and loved by my God, who demonstrated His love for me by sacrificing Himself on the cross that I might know life and have a relationship with Him.

Josh Tate offers a longer biography here.


Comments

2 Comments to “Biography of Josh T”

  1. Capt Steve on March 9th, 2007 9:49 am

    That is about the funniest story i have ever heard.

  2. heidianne on March 21st, 2007 3:23 pm

    i am laughing with tears in my eyes.

    bless you….

    bless you.

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