A St. Patrick's Day Toast

This St. Patrick's Day I was remembering my friend Mike.

I graduated from Pikesville University in 1977 with a degree in naivete. I was sent to Salisbury, in Wicomico County on Maryland's Eastern Shore to serve and protect the public. That's where I met Mike. Mike was a well seasoned Trooper with Maryland's Finest. Irish to the bone, he had served his country in Vietnam and was now serving the citizens of his State. Always a crooked smile on his face and sometimes a cigarette on his lips. There were deep laugh lines cut into the skin around his eyes. For some reason Mike took to me right away. I was not experienced in dealing with criminals or the ugly things that people do. Mike had seen it all.

One day early in my career at the scene of a horrific accident with several deaths and many injured Mike put his hand on my shoulder and said "Come on shit-for-brains."

He jumped in and saved one life and we bandaged up the rest as best we could until ambulance personnel arrived on the scene. Of course the nickname stuck. Nearly 20 years after we worked together whenever Mike would see me across a room or telephone call he would always shout "HEY shit-for-brains!"

At times in the early days I felt like a little puppy following him around.

I can only remember Mike loosing his temper once. He and I had been sent to a domestic argument (police talk for a husband and wife fighting). Hubby had picked up his four year old daughter and thrown her down on a coffee table with enough force that the table had broken in half. The child was crying when we arrived, the wife was bleeding from a head wound caused by Hubby pushing her through stairway spindles. Mike had the child in his arms and escorting the wife out to his car left me alone with Hubby to get the information needed for the report. I was trying to get Hubby's name, but Hubby insisted that his name was "Santa Claus".

Hubby then made another bad decision. He jumped up and attacked me. We ended up on the floor as I attempted to wrestle him into handcuffs. Mike suddenly appeared in the doorway red in the face, rage in his eyes. He was screaming "You want to kill someone kill me!"

I found myself in between Mike and Hubby. The wrestling match had turned into a fist fight and the Marquis of Queensbury rules were not being observed. I somehow managed to get the cuffs on Hubby just as two other Troopers came in the door. Mike was still enraged and trying everything he could to get at the man. As the two Troopers took the now bloodied Hubby out the door one on each arm, it took every ounce of strength that I had to hold and calm Mike down.

"MIKE! What's got into you? CALM DOWN!"

Panting heavily and slowly Mike looked down realizing what had happened tears forming in his eyes. "When I got the little girl out to the car she looked me in the eye and said Daddy said he is going to kill me. I heard you fighting with him - I don't know - I just lost it."

I put my hand on his shoulder and said "Come on ya crazy Mick."

That nickname stuck too. "Shit-for-brains" and "Mick" spent alot of time together. Working shift work. Surf fishing on Assateague Island. Tossing back more than a few at Oriole baseball games. Mike saved my life a couple of times. He saved countless other lives during both of his tours of duty, one in Vietnam and one in Maryland. He was always there and never asked for anything. He was never recognized by the Department for most of the lives that he saved. He didn't want recognition.

Many years later I was working as shift commander at the Frederick Barrack on Maryland's Western Shore. A week before that I had run into Mike in Jessup, MD and spent a minute in a head lock having my head rubbed hard by Mike's knuckles. Mike was retired now but he had not changed a bit. A teletype came into the Frederick Barrack saying that "We regret to inform you of the death of retired TFC Michael Patrick Mulvey, killed in a traffic accident on his motorcycle on todays date. Funeral arrangements will be forthcoming."

Some things hit you harder than others. Mike's death hit everyone hard. It appeared as though the entire Eastern Shore turned out to say goodbye to Mike. A second funeral was held in his hometown of Cumberland, MD with a like number of people. I must have said thanks to Mike a thousand times, but I never got to say goodbye.

Here's to you Mike, I sure do miss you.

Shit-for-brains