There was a man...

Today is not about food.  Today I'm stepping away from my normal routine to tell you a story about a man.  A man who impacted my life even though I never had the privilege of meeting him.  This is his story:

In Newark, New Jersey, on May 25th, 1922 a baby boy was born.  That baby boy was given the name Robert Michael LaMotta... he would one day become my grandfather.

 (That's my grandfather on the left in front...check out Eisenhower in the car behind him!)

My grandfather, Bobby LaMotta, was a police officer.  He served with the Newark Police Department for 16 years and was assigned to the Traffic Division.  He was a motorcycle cop.  On October 26, 1967, a motorist pulled out in front of my grandfather as he was following two police cars on a call to assist another officer.  He was thrown from his motorcycle and over the car with such force that his helmet flew off, giving him no protection when his head hit the pavement.  He was rushed to Presbyterian Hospital with massive head injuries where he would succumb to those injuries the following day. He was 45 years old.  He died less then a month after my mom turned 21...just 6 years before I was born.  (I unfortunately, never got to meet either one of my grandfathers, both dying far too young.)  My grandmother was left a widow and a single parent in an instant.  Although my mom had just turned 21, her sisters (my aunts) were only 13 and 7.

 (That's my grandfather on the right)

Bobby LaMotta served in the army during WWII.  He was an MP serving in both Alaska and Scottsbluff, Nebraska (talk about two extremes!).  He actually worked in POW camps located there.  That is where he met my grandmother, Phyllis Welch.  She worked as a telephone operator at the POW camp in Scottsbluff, NE.  They married in Scottsbluff on January 6, 1946.  After my grandfather left the army, they moved back to New Jersey, where my grandfather was originally from.  There, they lived a wonderful life together with their three daughters, Sharon, Debbie, and Pam, until his death in 1967.

 (My grandma Phyllis and grandpa Bob on their wedding day) 

(My mom and her father) 

Today, on the anniversary of my grandfather's death, I wanted to write this post to honor him and all of the officers that have fallen in the line of duty.  They do what most will not.  They face perils every day they go to work, never knowing if they will return home.  They keep us safe, while they put their own lives at risk.  I am truly honored to come from a family of police officers.  Not only was my grandfather on the force, but I have an uncle and cousins that are serving even now. I am proud of all of them.  I am honored to know them.

My grandfathers' information is on a site dedicated to fallen officer.  The Officer Down Memorial Page, is an amazing site where you can find information on fallen officers, leave comments and thank yous, donate, and you can even purchase personal keepsakes.  It's a fantastic website that, even just this week, got my mom in touch with a gentleman from the Fraternal Order of Police in New Jersey.


Jenn's Food Journey proudly salutes all officers, fallen and serving - Thank you for all you do!