Good intentions aren't enough

BRIDGE Over Troubled Water by Paul Simon and Arthur Garfunkel was the first cassette tape, and first recorded music, I ever purchased. I loved their music.

Our Standard 4 - Year 6 in the modern lingo - teacher was a star and he had us singing all their songs. Well, many of their songs - I don't recall us singing Mrs Robinson for obvious reasons. So on Saturday night we had tickets to see Paul Simon and Sting in concert in New Plymouth.

Then old mates got in touch and reminded me that it was 40 years since we'd dried ourselves behind our ears and headed off to the Police College in the latest intake of police cadets. It is amazing to think back on the experiences and the hallmarks of that time ... the water having flowed under the bridge over troubled waters.

The New Zealand we lived in was totally different and policing in those days was different too. I am a sucker for reunions and so, when given the opportunity of a catch-up - and with a very understanding wife - I was off to the dinner and a few drinks with older mates.

Having spent 24 years in the police, some would expect me to be an apologist for the organisation but I am not, although I have lots of sympathy for the bind they find themselves in from time to time - as long as that bind is not of their own making.

To tell the truth, at times I feel that some police have all the gear and equipment to offer a far better service than ever before, except some have forgotten who they work for and how to deal with people. But it remains an occupation most couldn't - or wouldn't - do. And, like the parish priest or the local school teacher, everybody knows how it should be done better.

In any event, it is always important to remember well the things that shaped us as young people and made us who we are today. Reflecting on these things is a duty, if only to make sure the best of choices are confirmed and the wrong decisions don't get repeated.

But the memories are golden. It is funny how walking into a bar and seeing people you've only seen infrequently for decades transports you right back to the teenage years. The same insecurities and sensitivities can come back - and the desire to explain or give your own version of the truth to the anecdote is almost overpowering, albeit 40 years past its relevance.

Catching up on what each is doing these days is confirming and surprising. Some were promoted to the highest levels and some remained constables all their careers. Some left early and found other stunning careers, underlining the fact that not every life decision made at 17 years of age should define anybody. I have to admit to now making comparisons with political parties and members of Parliament (what a sorry state of affairs).

Great policy from decades ago does not define them today. Parties and politicians don't keep reaping the rewards of popular or profound policies if in the intervening years they have walked away from them. Incidents for which individuals can become notorious only remain relevant as long as they have an effect.

Politics, like comedy, is all about timing, but there is no glory in saying something or doing something great - even with the best of intentions - if it was never backed up with good outcomes. And, as in all aspects of life, you can't undo the decisions that with hindsight you would rather not have made. I have learned this in the police, the law and in politics, so sometimes it is important to explain, sometimes apologise, and sometimes just revel in the story being retold in more colourful words that belie the facts but make the story more interesting.