Losing a Piece of Your Past

                                          "Boz" outside North Carroll High School circa 1986

Recently I celebrated my 45th birthday and had a conversation with a friend about how I now felt officially old since I am as close to 50 as I am 40. My friend strongly disagreed with my assessment but it did not make me any less convinced that I was old. That is until yesterday when I heard the news of the death of a high school friend, Tim Bosley or as his friends referred to him, "Boz." In that moment I realized just how young I am. Because there is no way Boz should be leaving us yet; he was way too young.

I first became friends with Boz when we played basketball together at North Carroll High School. Anyone who has ever played on a championship sports team knows someone like Boz because although he was never a star and often struggled for playing time he was as essential as the person who scored the most points, threw the most touchdowns or hit the most home runs.  He was the guy with moderate talent but the heart of a champion. The guy that you hated to have to gaurd in practices because you knew he would be giving it everything he had all the time and if you let up the slightest bit he was going to make you look bad. In that way he made his teammates better. He was also the guy who was always cheering on his teammates the loudest and the first to greet you in the huddle on the sidelines during a timeout. Boz loved sports for the simple most basic reasons of all; the joy of playing and being a teammate. He recognized and cherished the camaraderie that comes with competing for a common goal. Also, the grueling long bus rides after tough losses and sheer exuberance of winning a playoff game and the feeling of togetherness each end of that emotional spectrum brings. The gift that Boz brought to those teams most of all was his positive nature and his unparalleled humor. He turned those long bus rides into some of the most fun experiences I have ever had. His ability to come up with "one liners" that could have the entire team rolling with laughter was only outdone by his impromptu skits using members of the team as his targets.

Over the years since graduating from high school I lost touch with Boz. We would run into each other at an occasional Orioles game and immediately get lost in laughter recalling those North Carroll basketball days. His name would often come up in conversations with other high school friends. He was simply one of those rare people whom every time you hear his name or recall a memory of him it brought a smile to your face. That is because Boz loved to make people laugh. And that is a wonderful gift to have.

As I have thought about Boz this weekend one particular memory came to mind. On one of those bus trips to a game I was listening to my "Walkman" (for those of you wondering what that is think of an IPod only much bigger and it plays cassette tapes....hard to envision right?). Boz came up to me and asked me what I was listening to. The Rolling Stones, I replied. Boz handed me his earphones and said, "listen to this, these guys are going to be the next Rolling Stones." The song "Bad" by U2 was playing. I immediately thought it was one of the best songs I had ever heard. I suppose you never forget some things from high school. Perhaps your first kiss....your first car....and for me, the guy who turned you onto the epic rock and roll band that would come of age at the same time we did. Thanks for that Boz!

For many years now running has become my emotional outlet. It is the place I go to to try to make sense of things that make no sense. Things like losing an old friend long before you should. Today I went on a long run which I dedicated to Boz. I don't need to tell you what the first song was that was blaring through my IPod as I began my run.

So long Boz. You will be missed.

A Fallen Brother

A few weeks ago while training a group of police officers I noticed that one of the officers attending the class had a date tattooed on her wrist. "01-09-08" piqued my interest and I asked her what the date represented. "That is the day my brother died in Iraq," she replied. After a moment of feeling awkward for bringing up what was surely a painful memory for her, it occurred to me that the moment should not be awkward at all. I am quite certain that the tattoo she proudly displays often causes people to ask about its meaning. That is why it is there. To encourage people to ask, and therefore to remember Army Staff Sergeant Jonathan Dozier and to appreciate his sacrifice for us and our country.


On that fateful January day in 2008, Sgt. Dozier and five of his fellow soldiers were killed by an Improvised Explosive Device while conducting a search of a house suspected of being used by Al Queda. The other soldiers killed in the incident were Specialist Todd E. Davis; Staff Sergeant Sean Gaul; Sergeant Zachary McBride; Sergeant First Class Matthew Pionk; and Sergeant Christopher Sanders.

The week after I learned about Sgt. Dozier's story, I like the rest of America paused to recognize the anniversary of September 11th. Each and every American vividly remembers that horrible day in great detail. We go to great lengths to remember the thousands of victims that lost their lives that day, as well we should. As the slogan that has become so popular since 9/11 says: "We will never forget."

Sadly, however, it feels like as a population we tend to forget the thousands of American service men and women who have sacrificed their lives since 9/11 in the war against terror. The families of those brave and selfless soldiers will forever feel the enormous sense of loss, just as the families of 9/11 victims do. I for one am deeply grateful to each and every one of them who put their lives and families on hold, travelled across the world to a foreign land and day after day risked their lives under unimaginable conditions of war while we continued our lives as usual. And I am especially grateful to those who did not come home. Those like Sgt. Dozier. It should be noted that Sgt. Dozier was continuing a family legacy of serving their country which dated back several generations to the Civil War. In a letter Sgt. Dozier wrote in the weeks prior to his death he said, "I believe in things greater than myself and making sacrifices for the greater good." Well done Sir, you could not have set a better example for us all to follow.

Sgt. Dozier would have turned 36 years old today. Our thoughts and prayers are with his family and our gratitude goes to his family for all of their service. In honor of Sgt. Dozier we have made a contribution to the Fallen Patriot Fund in his name. You may do the same by visiting their website at www.fallenpatriotfund.org.

 

 

(Not) Just Another Name on the Wall

     Last Friday I attended a Baltimore Orioles game with my 8 year old daughter, Leila. As we stood in line to buy ice cream there was an Army soldier in full uniform who walked past us. I could not help but notice how young he looked. If not for the uniform I would have guessed 15 at most. I must admit, I have become the "salty" veteran on the police force who finds himself more and more frequently complaining of the younger generation and how they lack the sense of respect and work ethic of my generation. But as I looked at this baby-faced soldier I could not help but swell with appreciation for him and the many young people like him who still answer the call to duty and serve their country. I have had a great life in the "land of the free," reaping the many benefits of our free society. This only occurs because of the sacrifices made by so many young people throughout our country's history who have laid down their life, unfortunately before they had barely lived, so that others like me could have a fulfilled life. 

     The following day I took Leila to Washington, D.C. to visit the Abraham Lincoln memorial. She had recently read a book about Lincoln and to my delight was very interested in learning more about him. As we made our way across the National Mall toward the Lincoln Memorial we came upon the Viet Nam War Memorial. I explained to Leila what the monument stood for and how there were over 58,000 names of American soldiers who lost their life in the war. The average age of those who died was 19. I thought about the night before and the young soldier I had seen. Leila asked if I knew anyone whose name was on the wall.  I explained that I did not and that I was born near the end of the war. We decided to randomly pick a name from the wall and honor that person. The name we chose was John Ringholm. We transferred his name onto a piece of paper and looked forward to "Googling" it when we got home  to learn more about John Ringholm and the life he lived. Sadly, what we found was a life that has all but been forgotten. John was 19 years old when he was killed in action June 24, 1970 (5 days shy of his 20th birthday). John was from Middletown, New York and from what it appears was an only child. If our research was accurate both of his parents are now deceased. One thing that was really disheartening was that when we searched his name on Viet Nam Veterans Memorial Fund page this is the image that comes up with his profile:

     The fact that a young man can give his life for his country and be so anonymous as this is heartbreaking. How many of the other 58,000 names has time forgotten? Leila and I have purchased bracelets that memorialize John Ringholm and his sacrifice so that he will not be forgotten (memorial bracelets). I invite each of you to at least visit the Viet Nam War Memorial Fund website given above and leave a reflection of appreciation for John or any other soldier.

     This Memorial Day weekend while you are enjoying the beach, cookouts, and any other activities I hope everyone finds a small moment in time to remember what the holiday is for and those who it honors.

SHAME ON YOU WRC CHANNEL 4 IN WASHINGTON, DC

     Each day when I wake up I have developed the habit of turning my t.v. on to WRC channel 4 in Washington, D.C., an NBC affiliate. I do this to catch up on the news of the day as I get ready for work. This past Monday while I was in the midst of my routine the anchor began telling of the candlelight vigil that took place at the Law Enforcement memorial the night before to honor officers who had died in the line of duty. I was happy to see the media recognizing such an important and meaningful event. That is until I realized that mentioning the vigil was merely an introduction to an "exclusive report" into police cars that have been illegally parked during police week activities. The "exclusive" report by WRC seemed to take great pride in breaking this story and trying to get a negative reaction from Metropolitan Police Department Chief Cathy Lanier. The reporter seemed to have the same sense of achievement in his voice as you might have expected Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein to have had when they uncovered the Watergate break in.

     We in law enforcement have come to expect scrutiny from the media and for members of the media to constantly try to feast on any negative story they can find related to police officers. Police scandals and misconduct make for great stories. What they fail to realize is that so do the innumerable acts of heroism and sacrifice that officers exhibit everyday that far outnumber our misdeeds. Especially when those acts of heroism involve the ultimate sacrifice of giving ones life to protect the community for which they serve. Might the viewers of WRC have been more intrigued by some of the stories of officers who paid the ultimate sacrifice in 2012? The thousands of Law Enforcement Officers who descended on the nations capitol this week were there to pay respect to the 120 officers killed in the line of duty in 2012. WRC seemed to take great pride in counting the number of cruisers parked illegally during the ceremonies surrounding police week. Perhaps they would have been better suited counting the number of children (225) who lost a parent to a line of duty death last year. Or the thousands of others before them. Surely, no one from WRC took the time to walk through the memorial and get a feel for the magnitude of loss felt by so many loved ones of fallen officers, or maybe they would have seen the value in reporting a positive law enforcement story during their most sacred week of the year. The loss I describe is so evident in photos like these:

     There are 120 stories that would have been exponentially more compelling that WRC could have reported, but they missed the boat. They could have done an "exclusive" story on Park Ranger Margaret Anderson, who was shot to death by a fleeing suspect in Mount Rainier National Park on New Year's Day 2012. Maybe the story could have focused on how Ranger Anderson was working on a major holiday and sacrificing time with her family while most of the rest of the country was spending time with theirs. Perhaps the story could have recognized, as National Park Service Director, Jon Jarvis did, that Ranger Anderson selflessly "made deliberate, tactical decisions to protect the visitors at the park....she gave her life to keep the visitors safe." Finally, maybe the story could recognize how by committing this selfless act, Ranger Anderson left behind a husband and two of the 225 children mentioned above; now ages 5 and 3. She will not be there for their first day of school or their high school graduations. She will not be there to see them marry or hold her grandchildren. How unfortunate that the day after Mothers Day WRC missed an opportunity to recognize this special mother and the children her selfless act left behind. Instead, they chose the low road by seeking a story of scandal rather than heroism. Perhaps WRC could have honored Ranger Anderson with a story like this one. Or, they could have honored any one of the other 119 officers who made a similar sacrifice in 2012. Shame on you WRC. But thank you for inspiring me to make a donation to the Ranger Margaret Anderson Fund which was established to support her two small children. You may join me in donating to this great cause here.

Ranger Margaret Anderson

Mother's Day Scenes from the Law Enforcement Memorial

As many of you are already aware, this is Police Week. A week to honor the fallen heroes of law enforcement. I am so grateful to live in close proximity to Washington, D.C. so that I have the chance every year to visit the memorial during Police Week and participate in some of the events. Every year it is equally impossible to not feel the swell of emotion present during this extraordinary event. For those of you who are not able to visit this year I would like to share some of the photos I took that capture some of the events today.

Officer Molly Thomas-Bowden of the Columbia, MO Police Department was gunned down during a traffic stop in 2005. I had the opportunity to speak with her mother today at the memorial. How heartbreaking to spend Mothers' Day remembering your daughter in this way.

State Trooper Linda Huff, of the Idaho State Police Department, was shot and killed durng a gunfight with a suspect in 1998. Trooper Huff was shot 17 times; the last shot while she laid helpless on the ground. Trooper Huff was a mother of three children. This is the 15th Mother's Day her children are without their mother.

Too many names continue to be added to this wall year after year.

The Children: The following photos speak for themselves.

The Police Unity Tour:

The Police Unity Tour is a bike ride from New Jersey to the Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, D.C. by law enforcement officers whose purpose is to raise awareness of police officers who have died in the line of duty. Its motto is "We ride for those who died." The second purpose of the unity tour is to raise funds for the National Law Enforcement Memorial and Museum. Over 1600 people participate in the tour each year. It was an honor to be there to witness those who rode in the tour this year as they finished their ride at the memorial. We have made a donation to the this outstanding cause and encourage you to do so as well.

There is something about the roar of the motors in the distance and listening to it get louder and louder the closer they get!

To all of the Mother's out there we hope you have had a well deserved wonderful day! Please keep the memories of all the officers who have given their lives in the line of duty alive and pray for their families.



The Best Cop I Have Ever Known

 

  In 1993 as a rookie officer just cut loose from the FTO program I was called to assist the narcotics unit with transporting a suspect they had just arrested during an undercover operation. Growing up all I had ever wanted to do was be a plainclothes/undercover officer so this was like getting a chance to meet your favorite celebrity. I was very nervous when I arrived on the scene, hoping not to say or do anything embarrassing in front of the narcotics detectives. Several of them were going about their business and generally appearing completely ambivalent about my presence. It was clear that I was nothing more than a taxi service for them and they had no interest in acknowledging me otherwise. But then one of them emerged from the crowd, walked straight up to me, gave me a firm handshake, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "How you doing, my name is Steve Matthews, thanks for helping us out." Steve went on to spend about 10 minutes briefing me about their investigation, showing me the crack they had just purchased and explaining to me common methods of operation for drug dealers. I received more of an education in real police work in those ten minutes than I learned in six months at the academy. Obviously, Steve did not have to take the time to make me feel important or give me an invaluable lesson that made me a better cop. But he did. And over the course of the next 20 years I witnessed him take the time with countless other young officers and make them better too. That is because Steve is the ultimate team player. Never looking for personal recognition but always wanting to be involved in a team effort to get the job done.

     I have always marveled at Steve's ability to seemingly fill each day with about 28 hours instead of 24 like the rest of us. That is the only way I can explain how he does all the things he does. Somehow he seems to be tirelessly working the scene of a homicide or conducting an intense surveillance while at the same time attending one of his daughters activities, preparing a Santa sleigh ride for his community, helping a neighbor, and any of a number of other things for other people at the same time. He is simply someone you can rely on and who can never say "no" or "I would love to but I am already doing something else." He just finds a way to make it happen and get the job done.

     As a police officer there is no one with more passion for what he does. He poured his heart and soul into every case whether it was a shoplifter or a murder. He led by example, always giving 100% and letting his teammates know he could be relied on no matter what. We worked together on a plainclothes surveillance team for several years. Steve was the guy who would take the "eye" on a business during a night time commercial burglary detail and keep it all night if you asked him to. Never complaining and always staying glued to the place he was watching. If you don't comprehend how impressive this quality is try going to a local shopping center tonight around midnight and parking somewhere in the dark. Sit in the same place until about eight o'clock tomorrow morning without getting out of your car. Make sure your car is turned off no matter how hot or cold it gets so that you don't blow your cover. And whatever you do, don't take your eyes off the business your watching because if you do you just might miss it getting burglarized. That means no reading, watching movies, etc. And oh by the way, you figure out what to do if you need to go to the bathroom.

     When we started our police training company Steve was the first instructor we asked to work for us because of the obvious qualities I have described above. The last class Steve helped us with was last month, just a few days after he was hired for his new job and announced his retirement from the police department. When the class was over a veteran officer attending the class approached me and told me how inspired he was by the passion Steve exuded for police work and how rare it was to see someone at the end of their career have as much energy and commitment as Steve has.

     Steve Matthews sets the standard that I aspire to achieve when it comes to being a police officer, a friend and a father. There are countless times during our friendship that Steve's advice or actions have meant the world to me.  A few years ago my father, whom I was very close to passed away. It left a void in my life that can never be filled. In the days immediately following his death I received many cards and calls from friends expressing their sympathy. They all meant a lot and I have saved them all. There was one message that stood out to me more than any other. It came from Steve Matthews. Steve said, "Your job now is to become more like him." That simple statement left an enormous impression on me. My father would have turned 75 years old today. Tomorrow I will celebrate the extraordinary career of Steve Matthews at his retirement party. And each day thereafter I will continue to try to be more like my dad....and Steve!

Reflections on the Boston Marathon Tragedy

     In 1997 I had the unfortunate and completely unexpected experience of learning that my wife no longer wanted to be married to me. We had a four year old daughter at the time and I was very content. My world was turned upside down. In the wake of the overwhelming stress and anguish that accompanies such experiences I began smoking cigarettes and partaking in a nightly ritual of listening to depressing music with a glass of bourbon (or two). I found myself in a state of depression, not having much desire to do anything but wallow in my sorrow. Then one night I did something different to try to break out of this hopeless routine. I RAN! I ran for about a mile and a half until the burning in my legs and lungs become too much to continue. Despite the extreme physical discomfort I was in, I felt better than I had felt in a long time. So, the next night I ran again. And the night after that. Soon I was running two miles. Before long I participated in my first 5k race. Running became my escape, my sanctuary, my religion. It was the only part of my day where nothing could bother me. No unwanted phone calls, no bad news in the mailbox, no traffic jams, no pending deadlines. Just me and the quiet calm of evenings and the open road beneath my feet. I found a peace in running that I have never experienced in any other activity.

     In addition to becoming my outlet for decompressing from stress and "getting my head right," running soon became a vehicle for personal challenges and to strengthen my body mind and soul. I decided to challenge myself in a way that was far greater than I ever had in my life. I decided to train for a marathon. When I ran the idea by a co-worker (the only person I personally knew who had ever run a marathon) he suggested if I was going to do it that I join the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training program and run in honor of cancer victims. I took the advice and it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Not only did running with a group of people who shared the same common goal inspire me not to give up when training pushed me to my limits; but I had the opportunity to meet so many incredibly inspiring cancer survivors, many of them children. I raised over $10,000 for the cause while pursuing my goal of completing my first marathon in June 2000.

     What does this have to do with what occurred on Monday at the Boston marathon you might be asking. I have repeatedly watched the raw video of the first explosion near the finish line. I watch the video from a somewhat unique perspective. The first thing I notice is the time on the official marathon clock (4 hours and nine minutes). I have run a total of six marathons. My fastest time was 3:52 and my slowest time was 4:16. My first thought was that had I been running in Boston on Monday I would have been at or near the finish line and therefore at or near the explosion. Boston along with The Marine Corps and New York marathons are commonly thought of as the "world series" of marathons. Having completed New York and the Marine Corps marathons I have a complete understanding of what an awesome experience it is to run in such a tremendous event with tens of thousands of runners and tens of thousands of spectators throughout the 26.2 mile course. I know the unparalleled feeling of crossing that finish line to the cheering of spectators knowing you have just accomplished something that only 1% of the world population has done. So I could not help thinking of the thousands of runners that did not get to cross the finish line Monday. Those who have spent the past several months training to prepare for this. Who have run through the rain, snow, heat and cold. Who have run in honor of someone they have lost or some other charitable cause like I had. All of them denied their moment. What is so appealing to me about marathon running is that so many who participate bring with them such compelling stories. Each has used the goal of completing a marathon as a vehicle to overcome personal adversity. There are cancer survivors, amputees, war veterans and many other examples of heroes and role models that participate. And many of whom on this day saw their goals and dreams ruined by such a cowardly act.

     The next thing I noticed while watching the video of the explosion was Bill Iffrig, the elderly runner whose legs buckled under him as he collapsed from the force of the explosion, just several yards from the finish line. I would later learn that Mr. Iffrig is 78 years old and was about to complete his 45th marathon! Among the many small acts of inspiration we witnessed in the aftermath of the explosions was Mr. Iffrig being helped to his feet and crossing the finish line. I could not help but see the symbolism that Mr. Iffrig displayed for all Americans. We may get knocked down, but we will get back up and not be denied our ability to achieve and be free.

     Of course, the worst tragedy that came from this event is the victims caused by the explosions. Their stories that have been reported are heartbreaking. Among them are the two brothers who each lost a leg. The young girl who loved Irish dancing that lost a leg. Many others who lost limbs and whose lives will never be the same. And worst of all, the story of the Richard family whose 8 year-old son, Martin, was killed. Martin's mother and 6 year old sister remain in critical condition with serious injuries sustained in the blast. As the father of an 8 year old I could not even imagine the depths of sorrow Martins' family is feeling. Being the father of an 8 year old was also one of the reasons that led me to spend Christmas in Newtown, CT. delivering gifts to first responders, teachers and children after the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy. In an unbelievably sad twist of fate many of the Newtown survivors and family members were either participants or spectators at the marathon.

    The last thing I noticed in the video were dozens of yellow vested Boston Police Officers instinctively and without hesitation running towards the bombing site immediately following the blast. It is in moments like this that I could not be prouder of the profession  I chose over 20 years ago. Law Enforcement Officers so often are the target of criticism and usually it is our mistakes that capture the media attention. How unfortunate that it takes a tragic event like this to show the world the true character and heroism of those who wear the badge. I would be remiss if I did not mention the many citizens that also rushed to the aid of victims after the explosions. Collectively the officers and these citizens demonstrated what our country is all about. As Boston District Attorney, Dan Conley so eloquently stated, "Moments like these, terrible as they are, do not show our weakness, they show our strength."

    This weeks act of kindness is making a donation to the Boston First Responders Fund which has been established by the members of the Boston First Responders community to provide relief to victims of the marathon bombing. You can learn more about this fund and how to make a donation here.

   Checks can be sent to:
Boston First Responders Fund
c/o Boston Firefighters Credit Union
60 Hallet St.
Dorchester, MA 02124

    May we all live to run another day!