He took the test. We waited. He got a call. They needed him to take the agility test. Medical Exams. Interviews. He went through the process.
He was going step by step, all the while chanting like Chevy Chase in the original Vacation movie: "This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy..."
He told his parents. They were concerned about how his being a police officer would take time away from him running the business. They were mildly supportive, but their main concern was that they now needed him to run things. Could he still work at the business and become a full-time police officer?
He insisted he could. After all, the business was located in the same city. He figured he could get off shift, then go to the business for a while; work his days off the force at the business...you get the picture.
Rocco thinks he's Superman.
So we were all rooting for him. I was trepidacious, but I figured I could help him by supporting this dream. A year or two prior, I had left my NYC job to work in and around town in a totally different field and he supported that. I could and should do the same. I felt that it was all going to work out in the end. I remember praying a lot.
He got up the day of the agility test and I gave him a big breakfast and a vote of confidence. I watched him go. I waited with baited breath for his return. When I heard the garage door go up several hours later, I barreled down the stairs to meet and congratulate him.
What I saw at the door surprised me. He had a sad and disgusted look on his face and I knew right then and there something had gone wrong.
He failed the agility. He was out.
The dream had died.