1963... I'm on the right
When you look in the face of a dying man, you can see their whole life. As they slip from one world to another, you can see the baffled new dad, the Bronx street dude, the scruffy young man, the adoring grandfather, the dedicated officer, most of all the loving and devoted husband and father.
On the last night of his life I saw the man who took care of my mother in what was undoubtedly the most difficult time in his life. It tore him up to see the great love of his life deteriorating day after day, but he never let her know that. When my dad talked to my mom, even in the days when she couldn’t understand him, every day was sunny and fun and full of love. At his most tortured, he could put on a smile and make mom feel like nothing was wrong. That was Dad.
I live near downtown Manhattan, near the Supreme Court Building on 100 Centre Street, and every time I would walk by the building I would think of Dad. Especially when I saw a few of the officers hanging out… excuse me, on door patrol… outside the building sharing a laugh or airing a gripe. But what I really thought about was the fact that that building, the first building where my dad served as a court officer, was about 50-something miles from our house in Mahopac. About a hour and forty-five minutes by car, at night, with traffic, when your eyes are tired and your body is tired from standing all day and your head is tired from a long day’s work. There must have been many days when the last thing he wanted to do after a tough day was climb into our old Volkswagen Bug, with too many miles on it and too many funny knocks and grinds, and set out on that long journey. But that’s what he did. Every day. Because that’s what he had to do to give us a nice life in a nice house with a back yard. He did it because he felt it was what he had to do. That was Dad. I saw that guy on the last night of his life, too.
Sarge
I saw the guy who got his brother out of trouble, usually right after he got him in trouble. I saw a young man who ran afoul of Bronx street gangs because he stuck up for a guy who couldn’t stick up for himself. I saw the sergeant who demanded excellence from his crew by casually expecting it. I saw the guy who was usually assigned difficult officers, who had not worked out with other crews, and by simply expecting them to do what was asked of them, by a combination of confidence and toughness, he showed his charges that they were capable of more than they thought. That was Dad, too…
In the words of another Irishman, “… we fight, all the time, it’s alright, we’re the same soul…” When I said goodbye to him, I said, “thanks for showing me what a man is.” I saw all parts of that man on that night, and I’ll pay tribute to the man he was by being the best I can be. He would demand and expect nothing less.
Thomas E. Nolan
1937-2005
