[In the photo at the top of the page, Tommy is standing in the center, flanked by 2 of his army buddies]
Thomas Michael Fitzpatrick, my cousin, was killed near Long Binh, Vietnam on April 18, 1969. He was only 21 years old. We still think of him often and still miss him. We thought of him last month at the funeral for his sister-in-law, Mary Finnegan Fitzpatrick (Mary was the widow of Tommy's oldest brother Jack).
Tommy was born on December 18, 1947, the youngest child of Albert and Catherine Fitzpatrick. Al and Catherine has three other children: Jack, Jerry, and Sheila. When we were growing up, Tommy lived on Shoreview in Euclid, Ohio, across from Upson School. When he was quite young, the family moved to Eastbrook Drive on the Euclid-Willowick border, about a block from Lake Erie. Tommy went to St. William's School. His dad, Al, was an engineer for the New York Central Railroad, and his mother, Catherine was at home. I believe Tommy started at St. Joesph High School and then transferred to Euclid High School, graduating in 1966 or '67. He was a bit of an Elvis, with his full lips, his intense eyes, and the wavy blond hair. Tom was also a fine football player and played at St. William's and at Euclid (and of course the playground tackle football that we all played).
Tommy was much beloved by his large extended Irish-American family--uncles, aunts, cousins, second-cousins, shirt-tail cousins, and by his many friends. It's odd that 39 years after his death he is still so missed. Maggie Brock, Ellen McHugh, and I have written poems about Tommy, and I'll post one or more of those below:
"Tommy"
(A poem for Tommy Fitzpatrick, killed in Vietnam April 1969)
I have run hard & straight
into the black break-
wall of memory. I have
crouched before it & once
when we were young, when we
were given the earth, handed
the world & now at this wall, Tommy,
I still remember you, fearless
in water, out in the deep, over
the waves, where I said
I couldn't swim, but you
believed otherwise —& you
were twenty-one in Vietnam’s
trash heap of beauty
when they killed you
on some river the day
after you arrived, when
you could have gone
on loving. You did
love & later
what was lost
that beautiful May
Monday in Ohio when
guardsmen, no older than
you, stood on the edge
of the green looking
up toward the sound
of helicopters whirring
low, over a field of dust
& flowers, everything
we would come to say
it was: a hell and not
spring—maybe it is
never spring. Yet
sometimes in summer
I dream of you
diving through
the break wall blue-
green Erie waves –-& now
I can swim, but
the waves are wild &
they carry me
away from you
toward shore, to safe
shallows & endless
sand.
I have run hard & straight
into the black break-
wall of memory. I have
crouched before it & once
when we were young, when we
were given the earth, handed
the world & now at this wall, Tommy,
I still remember you, fearless
in water, out in the deep, over
the waves, where I said
I couldn't swim, but you
believed otherwise —& you
were twenty-one in Vietnam’s
trash heap of beauty
when they killed you
on some river the day
after you arrived, when
you could have gone
on loving. You did
love & later
what was lost
that beautiful May
Monday in Ohio when
guardsmen, no older than
you, stood on the edge
of the green looking
up toward the sound
of helicopters whirring
low, over a field of dust
& flowers, everything
we would come to say
it was: a hell and not
spring—maybe it is
never spring. Yet
sometimes in summer
I dream of you
diving through
the break wall blue-
green Erie waves –-& now
I can swim, but
the waves are wild &
they carry me
away from you
toward shore, to safe
shallows & endless
sand.
(Ellen McHugh, based on Maggie Brock's writings)
"Tommy, we hardly knew ye." But we honor your life, your courage, your great sacrifice.
8 comments:
My name is Phil Orlando. That is me with my arm on Tommy. I spend more time than I should remembering Vietnam. I don't know how, but I ran across this last month (May 2017). I remember the day Tommy died. I was in total denial. He died with two other gi's that day. I don't know of anyone who didn't like him. It makes me so sad to read about his family and how much they lost. I just want you to know that I still miss him and pray for him. I live in north Hampton, New Hampshire .
Sincerely
Phil
Thank you for your service, Phil. -Tommy Fitzpatrick's cousin, Mary Ellen Coughlin Zaremba-
Thanks Bob and Phil for sharing. I thank Tommy and you Phil for your service. Sincerely and God Bless Patti Buser Goller
I just saw the post brother Bob wrote about TOM THE BOMB. You made me cry again.thank for the poem Bob .thanks tom,well see you later.thancks Phil Orlando your right everyone liked my cuz
Mary Ellen, I have visited this site many times to read your poem about Tommy. The part about "what was lost that beautiful May Monday" brought back many memories to me. I thought the poem was beautiful, even if I do not understand all of it (maybe you can explain it to me someday). I have shown the poem to my siblings, children and others. You would be amazed at the impact this has had on them. This is not only about a war that ended in the 70's, but about the impact on families that will live on forever. You should be proud of your commitment to keep Tommy's memory alive. Best Regards, Phil
Just found this website while looking for another picture of Tom that might be the internet. Thanks for posting your pics. I dated Tom and still "visit" him at All Souls every year. He was such a good guy and so funny. His friends have not forgotten him.
Phil, one of my relatives (and one of Tommy Fitzpatrick's relatives) would like to contact you. His name is Mike Finnegan. If you can, email me bcough48@gmail.com. I'm also on Facebook.
I lived across the street from Saint Williams. As a little boy I used to watch Tommy play basketball in the schoolyard he was an incredible athlete... At 9 years old I learned how to do a layup from watching him...whenever me & my family have visited the Vietnam Memorial Wall we always pay respect & pray for Tommy...
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