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September 30, 2006
Funeral for a friend
We buried our friend, Tom Hoffman, Friday and, as a Stratford police officer, he was given a send-off that would have embarrassed the heck out of him.
You see, Tom was shy by nature and all of the attention of a cop’s funeral would have had him blushing. Which was ironic because he was a proud member of the Stratford Police Department’s Honor Guard and had been a part of these rituals for many years. It just wasn’t in Tom’s nature to call attention to himself.
Selfless is probably the ideal word to describe him.
If you needed help, he would help. If he needed help, he probably wouldn’t ask and try to figure out a way to get it done by himself.
There is a certain prestige that comes with being a police officer and I’ve seen a few officers use that standing to their advantage. Tom was at the opposite of that spectrum. If he didn’t occasionally wear the jacket he received as a member of the Stratford PAL board, outsiders would have never guessed that he was a cop.
He would much rather talk about is Mets or his Jets or, if I pushed, I could get him talking about the Islanders, though he probably gave up on them years ago. It seems a shame he died so unexpectedly and at so young an age (he was 50) right when his Mets were getting ready for the playoffs and his Jets look like they may be turning things around.
Even though I root for the Dolphins and hate the Jets with a passion, Tom would always invite me to the Meadowlands for the Dolphins’ annual visit back when he was a season-ticket holder. The people in his section, that he had sat with for years, would say some terrible things to Tom about my being there, but he just shrugged them off. I was his friend, I was a Dolphins fan, I was going if I wanted to.
One game stands out in my mind. The Jets dominated the first half and all of the fans sitting around us were laughing and I was taking it all in stride. An older man, who Tom had sat with for years, even offered me some of the hot toddy from his thermos.
After the Dolphins rallied for the win, the mood I the section took a decidedly nasty turn. As we exited our seats for some post-game tailgating, the older man, still seething, yelled: “Tom, don’t ever bring him back with you!�
Needless to say, I was back in the seat the next year.
It was cathartic that some of his friends and colleagues got together Tuesday night at King’s Court in the Devon section of Milford, just hours after the terrible news. We drank and laughed and told stories of “The Koos,� so nicknamed after the Huffman Koos furniture store.
The wake Thursday night at Adzima’s Funeral Home in Stratford was a kick in the gut, probably made worse by how good he looked in his coffin. It was weird seeing this man who always seemed to be in motion, lying so peacefully.
Reality had officially set in.
The funeral featured a police motorcade with motorcycle cops from Trumbull, Norwalk, Milford, Stamford and other towns leading the way. It was quite impressive and, again, Tom would have wondered what all the fuss was about.
Well, the fuss was deserved because, even though it’s so cliché to say the following, in this case it’s entirely true:
“Tom Hoffman was a good man and didn’t have an enemy in the world. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for a friend. He will be sorely missed by all that knew him.�
Rest in peace, my friend.
Posted by Sean on September 30, 2006 5:56 PM
Comments
Beautiful.
So Sorry, Betsy
Posted by: BK at October 3, 2006 8:43 AM
