I’ve always told my kids that it’s the little things that matter.
In one of my first reporting jobs in Connecticut, I was working on a story about “community policing.” It was the early 1990s and the NYPD had just begun its community policing efforts. I called up my Uncle Mike for advice and he invited me to spend the day in his precinct and take part in a ride-along with a couple of his patrol officers. I was not expecting that. I figured he would give me a few ideas, maybe a few quotes and that would be it.
When I met up with his patrol officers, they could not stop talking about their admiration for my uncle. And it wasn’t sucking up. It was genuine. The day ended with me hanging out in Uncle Mike’s office, checking out photos of famous people all over his desk and the wall. I’m guessing that day was a little thing in my uncle’s life, but I never forgot it. I returned to Connecticut, and the story ended up being published on the front page of the Sunday newspaper.
That experience with the patrol officers began to give me insight into the life of a legend. My sister likes to tell the story of when she was travelling in London and overheard someone at another table say they were a New York City cop. Jenny asked, “what precinct?” and the guy replied “Manhattan South.” Jenny asked him if he knew Mike Fox… and the guy responded “Chief Fox? Of course I know Chief Fox!”
For those that knew and worked with him, Mike Fox was a legend. He died at the age of 86 on March 16 after a full life.
He loved cigars, he loved Brooklyn, and he loved basketball. Growing up, I was a Knicks fan and he was a Celtics fan… something that was hard to fathom for a young New York sports fan. It was something we discussed at length many times. He was my godfather, and as life began to throw me curveballs, he became my confidant. It’s a little hard to fathom that he’s gone. When that solid rock disappears, the earth underneath you gets unsteady.
He was a man who quietly redefined the concept of generosity for me… and for many who knew him. He helped many over the years. But, he did it quietly. Everyone who knew or worked with Uncle Mike has a story of his generosity. He would often work holiday shifts so that others could spend time with their families.
Yet, he cherished his privacy and didn’t want to broadcast his acts of kindness. He helped me get through my divorce and other difficult times.
Often, it was subtle. The little things.
When my Mom’s sister died, I was just getting divorced, and I wasn’t exactly in the best headspace. At the wake, I sat in the back by myself. My uncle noticed that my body language wasn’t the best and sat next to me, and began cracking jokes. There I was, sitting in the back of my aunt’s wake, laughing at Uncle Mike’s jokes. It was just what I needed.
The little things. They weren’t so little.
My Uncle Mike was one of four. My Dad was the oldest, followed by Uncle Mike, my Aunt Marie and my Uncle Pete. My grandfather and Uncle Pete were also in the NYPD. My grandmother’s house in Park Slope was always the gathering place growing up. My parents would drive us there for Sunday dinners a couple of times a month growing up. It was a house full of characters, top to bottom. Over time, the conversations with Uncle Mike expanded, and he provided me with new insights into policing.
As my Uncle Mike received promotions from the NYPD, everyone in my family couldn’t have been prouder. He spent 20 years on patrol, climbing the ranks to become the highest-ranking uniformed officer in the NYPD. Uncle Mike loved the NYPD. After more than 40 years with the NYPD, he was mandated to retire at 63, but almost everyone agrees he would have kept going for another 10 years if allowed.
Chief Fox carved his own path, and his story remains inspirational to many.
It took a minute, but I eventually found my path. I learned a lot from Uncle Mike over the years, and perhaps the biggest lesson is this: Life isn’t linear. We all have our own paths to carve. Along the way, being kind and generous doesn’t hurt anyone. We certainly need more of both in today’s toxic environment. The little things matter today more than ever.
“Generous” is one of those words that gets thrown around quite frequently, yet it seems woefully inadequate when describing my uncle. He was always there for too many to list. As a parent, I’ve tried to instill my own kids with core values, including generosity and kindness. Uncle Mike is the model. That alone is quite a legacy.
Steve Fox is a senior lecturer and sports journalism director for the Journalism Department at the University of Massachusetts Amherst.