The young man moved to Phoenix from New York City a couple of years ago to be near an uncle who had moved from New York City several years ago. The young man started his own construction business and the couple employed him to do some needed updating on their condo.

The couple inquired into his life. As he stood on a ladder painting the ceiling, he spoke about his mother who recently retired from the New York City police department after forty years on the job.

She was a pioneer of females in the department and it wasn’t always easy being one of the few women on the force. He told one story of harassment toward his mother early on and how her male police partner put an end to it by telling the harasser that the woman’s father was the Chief of New York’s Fire Department and that two of her brothers were firemen, also.

The couple expressed appreciation for the young man’s pedigree. With a deep New York accent which seemed to get thicker as his pride rose, he, paused, lowered his paintbrush and stated, “Yeah, that’s my mom and my grandpa. They are my heroes. My uncle is my mom’s brother. He served forty some years as a fireman. His health is failing and I’m here to keep an eye on him. He’s right up there with my mom and grandpa and my other uncle.”

Then he dipped the brush in the paint and went back to putting the finishing touches on the ceiling. “So, what do you think?” he asked. “It looks real nice.” they said.