Tony the Bookie

Tony and I never met face-to-face but we came to know each other through several home health care aides that we shared over the years. I think of him as the quintessential ‘piece of work’. He was completely disabled and was, in fact, a full quadriplegic able to slightly move only three fingers. His condition came about as a result of a tragic auto accident when he was 19 years old. I always got the impression that, had he remained intact, he would have become one of our local ‘wise guys’; he didn’t miss the mark by much considering his condition.

He was in his mid-forties when I came to know him and was running a ‘book’ from his home. The gambling activity was mostly on professional sports contests… whatever sport was currently in season. What amazed me was that the whole operation was run from memory… no betting slips, no notes, no list of names, nothing but a bag of money in a dresser drawer. He trusted his aides and would tell them “… so and so will be coming over, give him $50 from the bag.” Or… “so and so will be here – he owes me $100. Make sure he gives you all of it.” He had been doing this for years and wasn’t above selling any stolen merchandise that his buddies would liberate from the local malls.

I’m sure that he was busted a couple of times and must have cut a plea deal or two because he was threatened with jail time if he continued his nefarious ways.

He did continue, thinking ‘What are they gonna do with me?’ Well, he found out soon enough when he was sentenced to two years in Federal prison (none of the local jails had the facilities to provide the daily care he needed). So, they packed him up and flew him and a nurse from upstate New York to a prison in Michigan. While there, he received better care than he had been receiving at home i.e. daily massages, twice-weekly whirlpool treatments and almost private accommodations. Well, he wasn’t about to get out of bed and stroll around looking for a way to escape.

I heard that the idleness began to bother Tony so he befriended a couple of people who worked in the prison kitchen and talked them into making extra sandwiches and smuggling in cigarettes. He began running a little business selling this contraband for whatever price he could get. It wasn’t a money making thing with him as much as it was a way to put something over on the authorities while keeping his mind busy… a game of sorts.

They prison system had to charter a plane and hire a nurse to fly with him on his return home. He remarked…”They really taught me a lesson. If you’re disabled and want the best possible care along with private transportation, get yourself sent to a Federal prison.” Tony was indeed a ‘piece of work’.

I learned, through our mutual aides and a few infrequent e-mails, that he was also a really nice guy. He would have his aides make a huge pot of tomato sauce ( usually with pieces of pork or other meat – the Italian way) every couple of weeks or so, and would send me a quart along with a bottle of home made wine (either red or white [the red was better]). I asked his aides what he liked to eat and was told that he had a huge sweet tooth; I’d send him cakes or jelly donuts in return.

Tony was plagued, during the time that I knew him, with chronic bladder and kidney infections resulting from the constant use of condom type urinary catheters. That is not uncommon with quadriplegics. The infections became more frequent as time went on and were accompanied by very small stones (more like gravel) that would only make things worse to the point that he’d have to be hospitalized. He let it be known that there would come a time when he would have had enough and that he’d refuse any more treatment or wouldn’t let his caregiver know that an infection was building. That’s exactly what happened. I learned, one day, that Tony had been hospitalized in very bad condition and then, a few short days later, I heard from his brother that Tony had died. He is remembered fondly by many people.

F. A. Zedik
08-17-09