Going through change? Make it a transition! Subtle, but important difference. Change happens to us. Transition is when we adapt to, and accept the change. A great conversation with our 5Star Life Insurance team in Lincoln Nebraska, a company I am honored to be part of. 5StarLife offers affordable insurance, geared toward the needs of our US Soldiers, National Guard and first responders. Our motto is, "We serve those who serve our nation."
“I must endure the presence of a few caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies.”
— The Little Prince
None of us is perfect. If we can accept the imperfections in the people we love, we can focus more on the things we love about them. In turn, they may show us even more of those qualities, and we can love them more.
If we can accept our own imperfections, we can love ourselves more as well.
In the summer of 1996, I was the Commanding Officer of the 71st Precinct. One day, I saw one of my teams with a man stopped at Eastern Parkway and Utica Avenue. He was preaching on the street using amplified sound, and we had received complaints from the community. The officers were in the process of issuing him a summons and confiscating his speakers.
He pleaded with me, and after checking with the sergeant to make sure I would not be undermining his authority, we agreed to return the speakers and take no further action. It was actually kind of funny because, in his gratitude, he began praying over each of us right there in the street—likely creating the same type of spectacle that some people had complained about.
That moment marked the beginning of a lifetime of activism for Reverend Terry Lee and the start of our true friendship, that I have enjoyed for 30 years.
Reverend Terry Lee is a true preacher and a man of the people. He is everywhere it matters—at police funerals, memorial services for fallen officers, and out on the streets thanking police officers on patrol. Most personally for me, he was one of the co-celebrants at the funeral of my nephew, Firefighter Michael Roberts, who died on 9/11.
When I go to Washington, D.C., next week, I hope to meet him at his prayer vigil outside the White House. I also hope to join him at his Police-Community Unity Walk on August 1, 2026, which begins at Flatbush Avenue and Empire Boulevard.
Thank you, Reverend Terry Lee, for who you are and for what you do. It matters.
I can see clearly now
Dr. Mirkin: “How can I help you?”
Me: “I want to see the world as a better place than it already is.”
Dr. Mirkin: “Well, you came to the right place!” 😃
Thank you, Dr. Mirkin, and your amazing team — Tinashe, Estefanie and Oswlene — for the quality of your service, and for always being so kind and helpful. (Mirkin Vision, 116 Street, Rockaway)
Paulie “Walnuts” Life Lesson
Actor Tony Sirico played the iconic mobster Paulie “Walnuts” in The Sopranos. He was a passionate supporter of our military. Every summer, families in Rockaway would host U.S. soldiers who had been seriously wounded in Afghanistan and Iraq.
When I was Chief of Brooklyn South, I would arrange for police officers in their dress uniforms to line up along the Belt Parkway as the soldiers headed to Rockaway, with a full FDNY/NYPD escort from LaGuardia Airport. These officers—many of whom were also recent war veterans—would stand at attention and salute them as they passed by.
During their visit, there would be activities on the water off the Rockaway Point Yacht Club, just before the entrance to Breezy Point. On the day I met Tony, I had been rushing past a few picnic tables because the NYPD Harbor cops were waiting at the pier to bring me onto their boat. He was sitting at one of the tables with others when someone said to him, “Tony, this is Chief Fox.”
He started to stand up, and mainly because I was in a hurry, I said, “No, don’t get up.”
He stood up briskly, grabbed my hand to shake it, leaned in just a bit, and in that loud, pronounced, raspy voice he used in The Sopranos, he said, “For the Chief, I get up!”
Of course, I stood and chatted with him and everyone at the table for about 10 minutes. The common courtesy and respect he showed me struck me deeply and stayed with me. To this day, 20 years later, I still think about it often. If I am at any type of event or dinner, there has never been—and there never will be—a time when someone says hello to me and I do not stand up.
This memory strikes me on a couple of levels:
•The respect Tony showed me because of my title is one.
•The power of the common courtesy he showed me is another. It reminds me that common courtesies are often not so common.
•And the impact of one lesson imparted to me by a man I had never met before, would never meet again, and only spoke with for 10 minutes has literally affected the way I live my life.
As I write these words and remember Tony Sirico’s lesson in respect, I hope I will become even more mindful of the lessons others have to share with me, even in the seemingly smallest moments.
Tonight’s ferry is right on time!
This moment reminds me of a life lesson I’ve often shared: “Everything—usually, but not always—happens just when it’s supposed to.”
Thank you, Chief Sly Ge, for these kind words and for the amazing representation of the NYPD, service, and humanity that you are. Thank you, Evan Batten, for your insightful questions and your artistic and creative compilation of words and images.
https://t.co/P2WU3lv5kt
Did you see my flashlight?
One of my favorite playful exchanges on the boardwalk happens on nights like this.
I’ll approach someone and say, “Oh no, I can’t find my flashlight. Have you seen it?”
They kindly start looking around the ground. Then I stop them, point up at the moon, and say:
“There it is! I found it!”
Remembering NYPD Police Officer David Regan, 62 Precinct.
On May 28, 2000, at 3:37 a.m., David Regan and his partner, Kenneth Waszak (62 Precinct), were responding to a report of shots fired with their lights and sirens on. Their vehicle collided with a New York Post truck driven by Jacques Lavache. Both David and Jacques were killed. Kenneth was seriously injured and, thankfully, recovered.
David’s passing led to a cherished friendship with his father, Thomas, and his mother, Patricia. Weeks after his death, as we were leaving an NYPD memorial event, Patricia said to me, “You know, Chief Fox, I thought these events would be too painful for me. But David loved the NYPD and being a police officer, so I want to be part of everything David loved. Please invite me to everything.”
Our love to David’s mom and dad and his family today, and always. We do what we do in honor of him.