An old friend and retired police officer told me a story years ago about a fellow called "Think-about-it." It was just a casual conversation -- not intended to be remembered or have a profound effect. Still, the vignettes that are described by guys who have spent their lives on the streets often put a memorable human face on the stories behind the news.
While some of these yarns are just plain funny, others illustrate those gritty lessons in life that cops seem to encounter more than any of us. Many of these stories blend humor and pathos, not unlike the shop-talk of surgeons, funeral directors and criminal defense attorneys. And nicknames often add flavor, a certain jene se qua .
Some nicknames are place-based -- like "Tony Underneath." He was a homeless guy my friend Marco took in on a snowy day and ensconced in the warm basement underneath his business. He stayed for years and, to this day, the quiet old man with the enigmatic smile is known as "Tony Underneath."
Others simply describe physical attributes. "Two Ton" Tony Galento was knocked-out by Joe "The Brown Bomber" Louis at 2:39 of the fourth round in 1939. It could have been different, because "Two-Ton" knocked the "Brown Bomber" down in the third. In the end, however, their nicknames proved to be both descriptive and prophetic.
I have a pal that we call "Mickey Two-Fingers." Surprisingly, he is in possession of all his digits, but he has a habit of gesturing with just two fingers; and his given name is Michael. We often get together with a third guy we call "The Iceman," whose nickname is an antonym for his consistently warm personality and valued friendship.
Over the years, I have counted among my buddies an Irish "Blackie," a Syrian "Brownie," a black "Red" and a German "Whitey" -- the only one that seems to make sense. My beloved uncle Joe Mistick's nickname was "Yellow," which seemed to serve no other practical purpose than to distinguish him from each of his brothers who were all known as "Chick."
Penky, Carrots, Tumbles, Sitto, Ragman, Zebo and Misto are all derivatives of their owners' actual last names. These are easy permutations of birth names and perfectly acceptable nicknames.
For some reason, Italian families seem to give their babies formal names and immediately reject them for something else -- Sonny, Babe (both male and female versions) and Jimmy (for Vincent) are popular selections. It makes you wonder why they bother with the original names.
But let's get back to "Think-about-it." His is a nickname for the ages. The story that I heard so long ago has stayed with me and remains a lodestar as I pick my way through life. Now, it is my holiday gift to you.
As luck would have it, a business associate of our protagonist somehow got the impression that he was being cheated in a sizeable transaction. This was not a dispute that could typically be resolved by reliance on the courts, so the associate paid a surprise visit to our friend.
Harsh words quickly turned to threatening actions, and our beleaguered hero found himself with a powerful handgun pressed against his temple. All appeared to be lost, but for the strength of the human spirit and the power of persuasion.
"Think about it, man, think about it," our guy pleaded. "Think about it. Think about it," he urged. For some minutes, as the story goes, he repeated this refrain in a tone that alternated between plaintive cries and gentle reasoning. In the end, it was successful.
As we approach the new year, what can we learn from this parable⢠When all seems lost, it may not be. And most rash behavior can and should be avoided. Think about it, man. Think about it.
