Tom Scime
A couple of weeks back I contacted a friend - Mike - and asked him if he'd like to have lunch. He said that he couldn't make it because he was in the hospital with his Dad - Tom - who was pretty sick.
Tom was fast approaching his 92nd birthday.
"Ah, man," I said. "Hang in there. If there's anything you need!"
Mike and his family hung in there.
Until this past Sunday when Tom, surrounded by family at the hospital, in the 4th quarter of the Bills game, breathed his last.
Just two weeks short of turning 92...
...Tom passed away.
And I am sad for my friend and the rest of his huge family because no matter how old one gets to be...
...saying goodbye is sad.
Yet I was also sad for me!
You see, I grew to know Tom a little bit over that past 15 years or so because he was often on some of the same sites that I was on...
...doing safety inspections for hardworking guys across Western New York.
Tom kept on doing them until he was 90!
At first I was 'Mike's friend' to him.
Then he got to know me as 'Cliff.'
Then he'd call me for a favor or two. I'd help him with a safety plan for a friend he met.
He called me one day just before he finally retired for good.
"Cliff, I have a couple of clients who are going to need help. I can't climb the damn ladders anymore."
I laughed.
At 90, he seemed angry with the fact that his ladder-climbing days were sadly behind him, once and for all.
"I'll help you if I can," I said.
"I hope you can get them," he answered. "I enjoy how you do the job."
That was one of the highlights of my safety career!
Tom was retired OSHA.
He had the respect of the working guys all over town.
He raised a fine family.
He didn't ever complain when he was out there in the rain, or cold.
And the guys who worked with him...respected him.
"Thanks, Tom," I said. "It'd be tough to follow your act."
He laughed.
"I can give them your name and tell them to call you. I want them to be all right after I retire."
"Certainly," I said.
He was afraid of letting anyone down.
I went to the wake this past Thursday.
The room was filled.
The photos of the family that Tom built were flashing by on a small screen in the far corner.
Tom with his wife.
Tom with his kids.
Tom holding his grandchildren.
I made my way to Mike and shook his hand.
I didn't know anyone else, but I felt bad for all of them.
But no one was down in the dumps in that room.
Everyone was smiling.
Talking.
Laughing.
Saying goodbye.
To a good man.
"That's a great life," I whispered to Tom as he laid in the front of the room.
"Rest in peace, buddy."
"You kicked life's ass."
Tom was fast approaching his 92nd birthday.
"Ah, man," I said. "Hang in there. If there's anything you need!"
Mike and his family hung in there.
Until this past Sunday when Tom, surrounded by family at the hospital, in the 4th quarter of the Bills game, breathed his last.
Just two weeks short of turning 92...
...Tom passed away.
And I am sad for my friend and the rest of his huge family because no matter how old one gets to be...
...saying goodbye is sad.
Yet I was also sad for me!
You see, I grew to know Tom a little bit over that past 15 years or so because he was often on some of the same sites that I was on...
...doing safety inspections for hardworking guys across Western New York.
Tom kept on doing them until he was 90!
At first I was 'Mike's friend' to him.
Then he got to know me as 'Cliff.'
Then he'd call me for a favor or two. I'd help him with a safety plan for a friend he met.
He called me one day just before he finally retired for good.
"Cliff, I have a couple of clients who are going to need help. I can't climb the damn ladders anymore."
I laughed.
At 90, he seemed angry with the fact that his ladder-climbing days were sadly behind him, once and for all.
"I'll help you if I can," I said.
"I hope you can get them," he answered. "I enjoy how you do the job."
That was one of the highlights of my safety career!
Tom was retired OSHA.
He had the respect of the working guys all over town.
He raised a fine family.
He didn't ever complain when he was out there in the rain, or cold.
And the guys who worked with him...respected him.
"Thanks, Tom," I said. "It'd be tough to follow your act."
He laughed.
"I can give them your name and tell them to call you. I want them to be all right after I retire."
"Certainly," I said.
He was afraid of letting anyone down.
I went to the wake this past Thursday.
The room was filled.
The photos of the family that Tom built were flashing by on a small screen in the far corner.
Tom with his wife.
Tom with his kids.
Tom holding his grandchildren.
I made my way to Mike and shook his hand.
I didn't know anyone else, but I felt bad for all of them.
But no one was down in the dumps in that room.
Everyone was smiling.
Talking.
Laughing.
Saying goodbye.
To a good man.
"That's a great life," I whispered to Tom as he laid in the front of the room.
"Rest in peace, buddy."
"You kicked life's ass."
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