Bridgman

That’s about it, I guess. (As I say,) excellence in my particular situation is nothing more than a reflection of the people to whom I have been exposed, to whom I have lived and worked with.

Whether or not there is any reflection in me as to any of those qualities having been acquired; I leave to you. But I am what I am all because of you.

Eulogizing Tom Bridgman is an intimidating undertaking. A man whose legacy is exemplified primarily by his extraordinary command of language, his gift with words, and an elocutionary style that was forceful and unique – this is no easy task. I can picture him in a corner of heaven seated at a long oak bar, next to his father, sipping a JB & soda. His Irish whisper – heard by all in earshot – saying to his father – “let’s see how she does.” I am not the storyteller my dad was – who is? I’m sure my dad would have loved to have written this one himself.

Sorry dad – you left no cliff notes. I’ll do my best, but in the end we all know that no one said it or wrote it better than you. I’m smart enough to let you have the last word, and I will. But for now . . . .

On behalf of my mother, my brother and my sisters, I thank you all for being here today. As always, my dad has drawn quite a crowd. Tom Bridgman was many things to many people: a lifelong friend, a trial attorney, a golf partner, a neighbor, a community leader. To us, he was everything. His sense of humor – most times irreverent, is well known to everyone. As we tried to figure out exactly what we wanted to say today, we thought of countless stories. Sadly, so many are inappropriate for church.

Our dad was the quintessential Southside man. And I don’t just mean that he liked the White Sox, could throw back drinks with the best of them, and would never have considered relocating from the Beverly community at any time in his life. He was the real southside man – one who values faith, family, friends, and loyalty. My dad revered his southside heritage and although we all knew how important his career was to him, and to our family, to us, he was a devoted husband, dedicated father, and doting grandfather.

Our father truly loved his immediate family. His father, Tom, mother, Angeline, and sister, Joan, were important parts of his life. His mother and sister were incredibly strong women, and remained strong in the face of significant tragedy and loss. My Aunt and Grandmother were modern women and an influence not only to my father, but to everyone in our family.

My father could rarely speak of my grandfather, even years after his sudden death while working as an electrician. My grandfather won the affection of everyone he encountered, a trait my father unquestionably inherited. My dad mourned his father’s passing but what hurt him most that his own father wouldn’t get to see his grandchildren and watch them grow.

My dad grew up in a small family by southside standards, but his extended family knew no bounds. The group of friends from Little Flower and 79th street still remain among his closest. These boys were his cohorts in grammar school, his best friends in high school, and his closest friends today. We can never convey how important you have been to my mother and my father; when the going got tough you stepped up to the plate and became number one in our books. The lunch club began on a monthly basis, stepped up to every other week and then weekly for over a year. So to the Little Band of Brothers –we thank you. You will forever know the grace of our father’s love. And to those important 79th street boys who left before my dad, please take care of him up there; we take comfort knowing he’s with his old friends.

My dad never let the occasion pass to talk about his Jesuit education, and he was forever grateful to his educators at St. Ignatius High School, John Carroll University and Loyola Law School. He credited them with his academic and professional success. More importantly though, these are the places where he met so many of you, and where he forged his steadfast friendships. My dad so looked forward to all

of the reunions and golf outings because of you all. I couldn’t possibly take the time to name all of my father’s friends from St. Ignatius, John Carroll and Loyola. But I will say that my father never felt the lack of any natural born brothers – to him, YOU were his brothers.

And he thought of all of his friends as an extension of his family.

One such brother was Jimmy McCormick– who my father met while in law school. Jimmy introduced Tom to his sister Patsy – my mother – and, when he did, the planets just all seemed to align (or at least they did after my mom was forced by my father to make a decision between him and her other boyfriend at the time – an ultimatum that demonstrated at the outset his unwillingness to be second in line for anything!). My mom herself had lived through a lifetime of tragedy before she met my father. After having lost her second parent by age 11 she never truly felt part of a family. On the eve of her wedding day, as she was ironing her own veil, my father – whose timing was always impeccable – called to her. And it was in that conversation that he uttered the words that forever changed her. He told her “from tomorrow on, I will always be there to take care of you. You will never have to worry again.” He was true to his word to the very end.

My mother would be the first to tell you that she never had a moment’s doubt in her marriage. The strength of their bond was evident. My father chose the right partner. A women as strong as his mother and sister, with a kind and nurturing nature. Through the birth of five children and the evolution of our family, as my dad’s career advanced, the constant was my mother and father’s relationship. My mother was always number one in my dad’s eyes – whether he was reciting a closing argument and soliciting her opinion, or deferring to her during a period of teenage girl angst that left him upset, or merely supporting any one of the decisions that she made on his behalf each and every day. His support was unwavering, his love for her unshakeable. Interestingly, my mother would tell you that my father took care of her all her life; but my father would say the same. Their mutual love and respect was apparent to everyone who knew them.

They were partners until the end. In these last years my mom seemed to assume his strength and decisiveness, holding his hand through the end of his journey on a path paved with dignity and respect, and caring for him with a love so pure, a strength so raw, at times it took our breath away.

Mom, these past years have shown the world the woman you are. The independent internet buyer, the financial expert, the health care case manager. By default, you became the sole decision maker - and take charge you did. We thank God for your strength when it seemed no decision was the right one. We thank God for your faith because so many times things just had a way of working out. We have to give dad credit – even down to his last days he was somehow making accommodations, and helping to guide us down the right path. Mom: you gave dad the greatest gift – taking care of him as he took care of you.

Our mother’s support assisted my father’s success in his career. He assigned her the ultimate responsibility of all things domestic. Her taking charge allowed him to concentrate on his career. He joined Baker and McKenzie when the litigation department was comprised of only 4 attorneys. He spoke so highly of his colleagues, and as the firm grew our father forged friendships that spanned the globe. Through it all, dad had the ability to make everyone feel comfortable and he always loved a good party. Whether it was hosting the associates from the litigation department at his home (even I remember that night!) or celebrating with friends after a long day of meetings here or abroad, he was always the master of ceremonies.

The annual golf trip to Hilton Head with the boys from Baker was truly a highlight for our father each year. The Alligator trips were marked on the calendar at least a year in advance – in fact, I had to plan my wedding around the weekend, and those days were the only time aside from business travel that my dad spent away from my mom.

Our dad loved all of his partners, but his professional relationships and friendships spanned all sides of the courtroom. Although he was a defense attorney, he counted plaintiffs attorneys and judges among his closest friends, and loved sharing war stories about awaiting verdicts with all of those guys in the bar at the Italian Village.

Our dad’s partners knew him as a successful and powerful attorney. But at home, he was the chief mischief maker. He’d play hide and go seek with all of the lights out on a Sunday night, chase us around the house with a dead bug, take us tobogganing at Beverly after the first good snow. One of his favorite tricks was to sneak in and hide the sandwich that you had just made for yourself and left on the counter for just a second when you were getting a glass of milk.

Our childhood was filled with unbelievably good times: nighttime summer swims, late nights in the Garden Lounge at Beverly, annual vacations to Acapulco and Wyoming, going to Foxes for dinner after 5 o’clock mass. My dad played quarters with us at parents’ weekend, called the new boyfriend by the old boyfriend’s name, and threatened (and sometimes carried through on his threat) to greet us at the door as we raced home past curfew in his infamous nightshirt.

Despite his schedule, my dad was always there for us. Unlike a lot of parents in his generation, my dad loved attending our sporting events. He was attentive and proud of us, but loved to laugh at the bad inbound basketball pass, or the whiff on the golf course. None of us can remember a swim meet (and believe me there were a lot of them!) where my dad didn’t give us his signature victory sign from the stands at the start of every race. He taught us to go for the gold, but to stay grounded if we got it and to shake it off it we didn’t.

Sports was most certainly my dad’s one true addiction. Every Sunday, often joined by his sons-in-law, dad was happy to watch whatever sporting event was in season. He loved sports and was a witness to some of Chicago’s greatest moments in sports history: • Front and center seats to witness the Bulls championship runs led by MJ. • Numerous Bears championships, including the great ‘85 Bear’s circus. • He saw the Blackhawks win two Stanley Cups including their wonderful ride in 2010. • And in ‘05 he had the pleasure of watching the White Sox win Game 1 of their World Series quest from his box seats with his grandson at his side - Incredible! • Maybe, best of all, he left this world without ever having to endure a Cubs Championship. And if he were here, he’d be quick to throw in a one-liner about how we’ll all probably get to do the same.

As we children became adults, our family grew close in a different way, as we had the opportunity to experience our parents as friends. We had countless laughs at home on the eves of many holidays as we returned home from college breaks; and we can all remembers the times when those light-hearted laughs delved right into a heated debate about some current event or about the most recent subject we “mastered” that semester. Birthdays were celebrated as a special occasion growing up, and we shared meals and good times in many of Chicago’s finest restaurants.

Our dad spent many years on a pedestal – which we all know he enjoyed. But that roost was rocked a bit when the sons-in-law arrived on the scene. For the first time, we actually questioned those quirks and wondered if maybe dad wasn’t perfect in every way after all. Many of my dad’s quirks were highlighted during our family trip to Ireland, where the boys all pointed out that it wasn’t normal to do things like checking and rechecking the plane tickets, confirming driving directions over, and over, and over in advance of our daily excursions, and that no normal guy should be able to polish off that much Irish bread – the sheer volume of bread! You boys challenged my dad in a healthy, fun way, and helped him to laugh at himself. He had always loved a good joke – he just hadn’t been accustomed to being the subject. But you all taught him that and he loved you for it. In truth, he loved each of you as his own.

My dad talked about retirement frequently, but surprised us all by deciding to leave the firm 2 ½ years earlier than required. He embraced retirement from the outset. My mom’s words from his retirement party sum it up perfectly. She said: “What none of us were prepared for was the complete change that came over him when he retired. Being totally stress free for the first time since he started working, he treats every day like a vacation day, and my children can attest to how much fun he was on vacations. He loves his quiet time in the morning with his newspapers – his early morning bike rides – his golf- his frozen yogurt lunches and endless sports on TV. He is always on call for me – his children – and his grandchildren. He is happy! And so am I.” My dad really enjoyed his golden years. This was the time he and my mom made the grandchildren a focal point of their lives. My dad built relationships with each of his grandchildren; he enjoyed spending time with them and the feeling was indeed mutual. We all loved spending time with my dad, and relished our annual summer family vacation, first to the shores of Lake Michigan and later to the Osthoff resort. But we loved the smaller moments too – the Sunday dinners at the house, the Saturday excursions to Palermos with Tommy, the rounds of golf, the walks around the block. We will all cherish these memories.

When the grandkids were young, my dad was quick to take charge, and when left to his own devices was very resourceful. For instance, there was the time my mom left my dad in charge of Declan, who was then a baby and still wearing diapers; she had tried to give him a quick course on diaper changing and he had scoffed – reminding her that he changed more than a few in the days when we were young.

Well we came home to find Declan’s diaper securely fastened – with several feet of duct tape, supplied by Tommy. We never said a word and he never offered an explanation. As usual, he had taken care of things in his own way and it just worked!

As the kids got older, my dad became one of those doting grandparents he used to speak of with disdain . . . talking incessantly about the latest accomplishments of his grandchildren, from the sporting events, good grades, and school plays. How appropriate that last year, after watching two grandchildren perform in the Christ the King Christmas pageant my mom has directed for over 20 years, he was the first to rise for a standing ovation.

Aside from the grandchildren, golf was my dad’s primary focus in retirement. Beverly Country Club was truly a second home for my mom and dad. Their friends at the club were another extension of their family. So much time, so many rounds of golf, buffet dinners, black tie events and Friday night outings were the center of my parent’s social life. Their friendships from the club are as old as I am. We thank the

Friday night crowd for making dinner nearly every week, and for providing support to my mother when she needed it the most. And for those of you who had my dad’s back when the landscape began to change, and we are forever indebted to you.

To us, my dad’s illness has seemed like a long journey. And we know that we could not have gotten though it without the support and guidance of a true angel on earth, Petras Simkus. Petras we are so grateful to you; words simply cannot express how much we appreciate the exceptional care you have given our dad over these past two years. You treated him with kindness and dignity at every step, and were a constant source of strength to him and to us, most especially my mother. We hold you in a very special place – now and forever. How blessed the family will be whose presence you will grace next.

In one of his many speeches, my dad told the crowd that his life had been “a magnificent trip, particularly for an Irish Catholic kid from the Southside of Chicago”. He felt so blessed. And we feel so blessed because of him. But I said I was going to let him have the last word and I will. As we were going through boxes of memorabilia for pictures for today, we came across a tape of the speech my dad gave when he was awarded the Loyola Law School Medal of Excellence in 1979. And we’d like to play part of that for you today – the quality is not up to today’s standards, and there’s a lot of background noise. But it really is his voice. And we’ve printed part of the text at the end of the mass booklets if you want to follow along.

Leave it to dad to provide us with the perfect ending.

“That’s about it, I guess. As I say, excellence in my particular situation is nothing more than a reflection of the people to whom I have been exposed, to whom I have lived and worked with.

Whether or not there is any reflection in me as to any of those qualities having been acquired; I leave to you. But I am what I am all because of you.”