Thank You and I'm Sorry

Before you die, give thanks and apologize.
Give thanks to those teachers who inspired you
and believed in you, and taught you, anything.

Don't just think it. Do it.
If they are still alive, call them.
If you can't or will not call them,
write them a letter.

When I was 10 or 11, Officer Paul Claffey came to talk
to the young Boy Scouts in my home town.
He said "Be good, be careful and don't get into trouble.
You are young now, but as soon as you turn 16,
you will have a permanent, criminal record that will stay
with you for life"

I was arrested 2 months before my 16th birthday, on May 13, 1964
for Grand Theft Auto.  It was not my first time.
I survived the juvenile detention center and solitary confinement
and went on to do well, marry, have great jobs, a great family,
and then I decided it was time to make the call...

I called Officer Paul Claffey. His wife answered and said he had retired.
I asked to speak with him.
We talked. I said "Thank you for trying to help us kids and thank you
for helping me.  I am sorry for the trouble I caused in town. I am doing
fine now and I wanted to call and say thank you.

He thanked me for calling and we said goodbye.
I could not have done that if I waited too long
to call and was told that he was dead.

The Red Line to Ashmont

There was a time

When I saw the ring

That attracted me

To much bigger things.

It may have been

A building tall

With corporate names

On marble walls,

Or a bigger ship

In port that day

One that would take me

Far, far away.

I grabbed that ring

And held it tight

I rode that train

Through darkest night

I wore the clothes

I walked the walk

I took the money

And I talked the talk.

Now years later

I see I was blind

To better things

And simpler times

I needed it then

I do not now

But there was a time

When I would not bow.

I am a better man

Though I rationalize

I believe in myself

And that’s the surprise.

The ego’s gone

The man remains

A better man

With growing pains

But still…at night

While I ride the “T”

I think of that time

When I was him, not me.

Then I remember…

There was a time.

F.Thomas Crowley, Jr.

11/14/2012

On the Red Line to Ashmont