Tuesday, August 4, 2015
My wife and I and children knew Tom Ford from early on when we lived in Leonia, New Jersey. Here is the eulogy we read at the fine service held at Frank Patti's facility on July
30th, 2015.
July 30, 2015
By Joseph N. Muzio
Good morning.
Thomas E. Ford was born on July 9, 1931. He died on
July 25, 2015.
To Tom’s loving wife Diane Jankowski Ford; to
their three daughters, Cris, Caryn and Kim; to
their 5 grandchildren, Jillian, Brad, Ryan, Sean, and
Jack, the youngest; to Vic, Diane’s brother and his wife
Pat and their daughter Susan; to family friends:
Danny, Rick, John and Jim; to next door neighbors
Debbie and Matt; to all others here, the dedicated hospice people, and to all others here and beyond who ever knew Tom.
Let me begin this eulogy by reading an insightful,
encouraging poem. And if you’re all attentive and
awake and patient I will conclude this eulogy with
another poem that Tom liked.
It’s titled:
The Dash Leslie Ellis, author
I read of a man who stood
to speak at the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on his tombstone
from the beginning …to the end.
He noted that first came the date of his birth
and spoke of the second with tears,
But he said that what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time
that he spent alive on earth,
And now only those who loved him know
what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
when we’re living out the dash.
If we could just slow down enough to consider
what’s true and what is real,
And always try to understand
the way other people feel.
And …be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more,
And love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile,
Remember that this special dash
might only last a while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
with your life’s actions to rehash…
Will you be pleased with what there’s to say
about how you spent your dash?
Tom Ford’s early childhood years were hardly
pleasant, comfortable, or traditional. Like all of us
he was forever shaped by those early childhood
forces imprinted within him. The extent of their
influences remain mysterious. Nor can they be
disregarded, denied or minimized.
Tom was raised in upstate New York during the
height of the Great Depression, with his mother,
brother Mike and sister Pat. His father abandoned
them early on, and was never in their lives again.
No one knows what happened to him.
During this Great Depression and poverty
each of the Ford children spent time separately in
foster homes and orphanages. In some of these
places, Tom was beaten and there was no appeal.
Tom’s recollection of these experiences were deep,
traumatic, and lonely.
After college in Buffalo, and after Tom and Diane
were supposed to get married but didn’t, by sheer
accident they reconnected in California: she was
teaching in Long Beach, California with some of her buddies
from the East Coast; he was in the Marine Corps as a
Second Lieutenant at Camp Pendleton. From there
their lives moved on to again dating, an engagement,
and eventually marriage in 1956. As the cliché goes,
“the rest is history.’’
Despite the chaos and discomfort of his
childhood years and possibly some in Diane’s too,
Tom in concert with Diane devoted their entire
lives to each other, their daughters and their
grandchildren. Their efforts have been to
offer love and stability to their family, even those
who were only there for awhile.
Family was and is everything to Tom. His unyielding
commitment and belief was in the strength, love and
sustainability of family. His earlier fragmented
experiences prepared him intuitively to value and
strive for family and community.
When there were lifetime difficulties as there
always are, sometimes he’d become so quiet there was
only his silence. He would hold fast. He was wounded
but would say nothing or little until that matter
passed or was resolved.
Tom’s unannounced mantra could be found in the words
Winston Churchill who told the students at Harrow in 1941:
Never give in, never give in,
Never, never, never, never,
in nothing great or small,
large or petty,
except to convictions of honour and good sense.
Like the long-distance runner he was in college, he
sure was a persistent, enduring human being.
It was in the early spring of 1971, a meager 44 plus
years ago that Diane and Tom invited Lois and me to
their home for dinner, to discuss whether Tom
and I, along with others would like to team up and be
part of a local political campaign in Leonia.
From early on we knew we were instinctively
compatible. We seemed to like one another right
away. Some people you brush against and move
on. But then there are those you sense a closeness,
an affinity, and you want to be with them and know them
better and longer.
There were substantial initial reasons this might be.
We both had been raised as Roman Catholics;
and both had either fallen away from the church over
time, or been shoved out the door. We both had been
United States Marine Corps Officers, (although later
on when i jokingly kidded Tom about never having
served, he came over with his honorable discharge papers
and a photo of himself in full uniform which is here today).
We both had run for elected offices in Leonia and had
lost; and we both were forthright, judgmental, and
intense. Others might have suggested we were
stubborn young men loathe to compromise.
Added to this mixture we were both fortunately
married to strong, highly competent, patient and
determined women.
It was to become a perfect secondary simulated
marriage between Tom and me; forged by inexplicable
circumstances. So began our joint journey that is
still going on until today.
After an intensive door-to-door campaign and with
our colleagues Peg Muenstermann, Dick Dean, Marty
Hayes and George Tomaro, and involving dedicated
volunteers like Don Wynn and Anita and Manfred Gans and
Ginny Brown and Bob Murphy, and some others around
in Leonia, we won that election. We were now in the majority and served for 4 years. It was a wonderful experience to serve with Tom as mayor and the other active, caring and attentive democrats.
With Tom leading the charge, this was an exciting time In Leonia. We were energetic and full of positive
missions. Because of Tom’s administrative leadership
and persistence we were able to accomplish a great deal that has impacted the history and development of our Leonia community:
Dedicating 14 ½ acres of Highwood Hills in perpetuity as a nature preserve and buffer;
Forming the still active Leonia Environmental Commission for recycling and education;
Bringing about Leonia senior housing to completion;
Studying tax assessments to ensure fairness for all property owners;
Instituting policies to professionalize and educate
Leonia police department officers;
Involving more concerned Leonians who had long
been excluded;
and with Tom’s insistence, treating the old guard minority
with civility and respect.
Other than our immediate families, Tom and I have
spent more time in these 44 plus years with one
another: Car pooling for 12 years several hours,
each day; morning breakfasts all over NYC and
Brooklyn where we studied the quality of oatmeal in
hundreds of restaurants. After all, Tom was a fine expert
as to whether there were any worms in the oatmeal,
based on his wonderful and extensive experiences
in foster homes and orphanages. Together in Brooklyn
at Kingsborough Community College; talking; sharing books;
ideas; thoughts; many letters; going to plays and
movies; Junior Mance jazz concerts; visiting on
vacations.
We were involved in all sorts of personal and professional
causes, and making efforts to try to shape the community about us.
And of course, attending the three weddings of their
lovely daughters.
We’d make frequent reference to the paradoxes,
the inconsistencies, the enigmas, the mysteries throughout our society, and the unresolved long-standing personal, corporate,
educational, environmental and global issues.
As for those car pooling experiences, offspring Cris
Ford and Frank Muzio were occasionally with us and
can attest to those unique and adventurous, sometimes
harrowing experiences. These were indeed wild rides!!!!
In the mid-19th century, Ralph Waldo Emerson,
once wrote: “The world is his (I added “or hers”) who can see
through its pretentions.”
Tom Ford lived Emerson’s statement. He was
uncomfortable with anything phoney, insincere,
manipulative, anything that smacked of taking
advantage of another human being. He understood
suffering and unfairness, and never forgot those
who continued to suffer or were disadvantaged.
Nor did he understand those who because of good
luck and advantage, behaved as if they thought they
were genetically better, who had amnesia and
insensitively forgot. They were unfeeling and
arrogant. They neglect the variables that contribute
or detract from a person’s development and their
ultimate success.
When Tom was confronted with such situations
he often spoke out. You always knew where
Tom stood. And sometimes to maintain civility and
harmony, he would remain silent. Later on, we’d talk
about such matters in our many meetings and
carpooling sessions.
Tom consistently felt deeply for others. Since he
barely had a father only briefly, he mentored other
young men and women, including our three sons Frank,
Edward and Matthew. At the college, he spent much time and
patience in advising students, mostly males, about the
Marine Technology Program and their future lives.
He understood how we all need assistance and
guidance.
If I were psychologically trained, I might
suggest Tom served as a self-appointed surrogate
father to many of the students he helped,
the father he never had in his life.
When he was at the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation
before coming to Kingsborough, he had responsibilities
to offset some of the discrepancies he saw in our society.
He was involved in minority programs to improve
the educations and upward mobility of
downtrodden groups that were long neglected.
He served as a trustee of a black college,
Tugaloo and was a major force in that place and its
students for ever after.
At meetings in Leonia when Tom was the mayor,
and at the college where we worked Tom had the
uncanny ability to see through the jargon, the
excuses, the trivia, and the selfishness. And when this
went on too long, he’d abruptly speak out to make
clarity and to promote decision-making. He would ask
questions, methodically seek data, want to look at
written reports and better understand the issues.
Then he’d make notes. And at a subsequent meeting
he’d inquire: What had been accomplished
since we last met? This unnerved and bothered those
reluctant to do positive things.
He made me a better and more thoughtful person and a more effective leader at the college and in life. For a few years I was
Tom’s “boss,” but Tom never had a “boss” nor needed one.,
He was always my colleague.
Afterwards when Tom and I had retired from our
missions at the college, we continued to be in close
contact.
Tom absolutely refused to use a computer;
but always analytical and concerned, he had one
of his highly competent support staff members: wife Diane, granddaughter Ryan or daughter Kim send his detailed thoughts and comments, and questions on all sorts of topics.
I used to kid him that with his interest in poetry,
especially William Wordsworth and other authors,
along with his writing of many letters to his 5
grandchildren and his daughters over their years of development, he’d have been a fine english professor. Tom’s writing
is direct, clear, uncluttered and insightful. He once
wrote a detailed paper on Wordsworth, “Poet of
Solitude, Nature and the Universal Feelings of the
Human Heart.” Much of Tom’s life was spent in
solitude and in privacy, along with his books; his discs;
his poetry; and his travels with Diane .
To have known Tom, and to have worked with him,
and to continually socialize with him so intensely was a
rare privilege still with me to this day. He let me in;
and allowed me to be his friend. What an honor this
has been .
As soon as one thinks you know another person,
no matter how long and what whatever intimate
depth and breadth, do you think you ever knew that
person completely? Can anybody get inside another
person’s mind and spirit? Or are there always
components, fragments and particles remaining
forever unknown and unknowable and locked up within all of us?
There were dimensions of Tom that were hidden,
sometimes almost mysterious, unspoken, inexplicable.
Like all of us, he was complex; like all of us, he was
sometimes confusing; and like all of us he was flawed.
By now it must be patently clear it is impossible to
encapsulate our long, loving, lasting friendship. Our
lives have been inextricably and accidentally
entwined.
And, by now, it must be patently obvious that Tom lived
his life with purpose, integrity and sincerity. He
accomplished so much beyond any personal
accolades and he’s done so quietly, modestly, never seeking praise. His many accomplishments transcend time, space, glory.
While on his journey he has cared and loved
many of us.
His journey is over and yet in so many ways it is
still underway and flourishing for all of us. Just look
around.
Now, with your patience, I would like to conclude
and read one more brief poem appropriate for Tom.
He liked this poem.
It’s:
Like the River Thomas Wolfe, author
Why are you absent in the night, my love?
Where are you when the bells ring in the night?
Now, there are bells again,
How strange to hear the bells
In this vast, sleeping city!
Now, in a million little towns,
Now in the dark and lonely places of this earth,
Small bells are ringing out the time!
O my dark soul,
My child, my darling, my beloved,
Where are you now,
And in what place,
And in what time?
O, ring, sweet bells above him
While he sleeps!
I send my love to you upon those bells.
Strange time, forever lost,
Forever flowing like the river!
Lost time, lost people, and lost love –
Forever lost!
There’s nothing you can hold
There in the river!
There’s nothing you can keep
There in the river!
It takes your love, it takes your life,
It takes the great ships going out to sea,
And it takes time,
Dark, delicate time,
That little ticking moments of strange time
That count us into death.
Now in the dark
I hear the passing of dark time,
And all the sad and secret flowing of my life.
All of my thoughts are flowing like the river,
All of my life is passing like the river,
I dream and talk and feel just like the river,
As it flows by me,
By me, to the sea.
And now for all of us still here: Let’s keep thinking and
working on our dashes from our beginnings to our
Ends!!!!!
Thank you Tom, with love and Semper Fidelis.
