Tag Archives: Terry Brannigan

The Brannigan Family: “Thank You, Westport!”

Last Saturday, Terry Brannigan’s father Robert — who suffers from dementia — disappeared. It was a harrowing day for the longtime Westport family.

Terry contacted the Westport Police, and “06880.” Fortunately — hours later — his dad was found. Terry recounts that day, and thanks his community:

I wanted to reach out to everyone who helped with the events of last Saturday on behalf of my family — in particular the “06880” nation.

This is a case of the system working exactly as it should, and friends acting exactly as they should. When we first got the call from my mother, the family simply hopped into our cars and began searching.

Westport PoliceWhen my dad had been gone 3 hours, we called the Westport Police. They sent out a BOTLO (Be on the Lookout) alert to the Westport emergency response community.

While that took place, my sister and I continued to enlist people to look for my dad, and sent family to be with my mother.  After 4 hours I called “06880.” Ten minutes later there was my father’s photo on the site, and we began to get our first calls from friends.  No one had seen my father, but they wanted to know we were in their thoughts.

I drove toward Fairfield, and on the Post Road flagged a Fairfield cop who could tell I was upset. He tried to keep me calm and immediately enlisted his department. After another hour, my sister Kathleen and I re-engaged with the Westport Police. It was getting dark, and we thought of the worst.

The Westport PD dispatched a cruiser to meet us in the parking lot of Home Goods to gather information to issue a full Silver Alert. To my relief, Tommy Casimiro pulled in. Tommy is exactly the person you want in an emergency: intelligent, thoughtful and clearly capable. He walked me through the required information, then followed me home to collect photographs.  Tommy provided me with his private contact numbers, and texted me throughout the night.

cell-phone-ringingI am not sure what time the Red Alert call went out, but concerned friends began to check in with my mother. I am very glad my father’s name was provided in the alert. My neighbor came over to watch the kids, followed immediately by my sister-in-law. My father was clearly in everyone’s thoughts.  The manager of the Norwalk Costco even sent an employee out to check the parking lot.

By 9:30, after driving the same routes over and over and calling all the hospitals, it was clear that our place was with my mother. My dad had been missing more than 10 hours with no money or ID, so we braced for very bad news.

Miraculously at 10:30, the telephone rang. My wife said, “You got him?!” She handed the phone to me. To my shock, someone from the Fort Dix military police in New Jersey said they had found my father. He was safe, and in the hospital.

SilverAlertProfileLogoA Silver Alert is akin to an Amber Alert — but for older people. The MPs had received a call of an unidentified car on the base. When they found my father — confused, dehydrated and suffering from a minor medical emergency — they immediately discovered his Silver Alert. They started the process of getting him back home. A 2nd Red Alert went out to Westport, saying he’d been found. My sister and I were back in the car — this time relieved and on our way to New Jersey.

There’s a lot of community in our community, when you look for it. We did not get home until early the next day. I had to be at a PAL football jamboree, but as soon as I got there I was surrounded by friends offering help and sharing their relief.  It was great. The same thing has been happening ever since.

On behalf of the Brannigan family, we want everyone to know how thankful we are — and to know that the process works.

Back To School, Back In The Day

The other day, Terry Brannigan got the Bedford Middle School supply list.

Which got the native Westporter/alert “06880” reader thinking.

He remembered back-to-school shopping, back in his day.

Cool kids at Long Lots Junior High.

Cool kids at Long Lots Junior High.

It was, he says, singular and simple: a “humiliating trip to Paul Zabin’s.” That was a kids’ clothing store in Colonial Green — now the site of George Subkoff Antiques — where, Terry says, “for some reason every girl I had a crush on was shopping the same day.”

What made the experience so excruciating, Terry explains, was that “well-intended mothers forced corduroy on their embarrassed sons.”

I don’t remember corduroys — but I do remember enormous battles over whatever type of pants were considered cool (in 7th grade, they had to end well above the ankles), which of course was exactly what mothers hated.

Terry nails it: “The haberdasher at Zabin’s knew who buttered his bread. If a debate arose about fashion, he always sided with the mothers.”

Fortunately, we could always count on Schaefer’s — next door to Max’s Art Supplies — for sneakers. Tip or Charlie knew exactly what we wanted.

For non-apparel supplies — 3-ring binders, pencils, protractors (?!) — it was Barker’s.

And that was that. One trip. Bingo.

Today, back-to-school shopping is a month-long event — for no reason other than retailers have made it so. There are endless choices — of stores, fashions and supplies. It’s all there, everywhere.

Except protractors.

 protractor

Finding Nemo: Kids, Animals And Snowed-In Cars Edition

Whatever got Westporters outside today — bright sunshine, brisk wind, the need to walk dogs or shovel walks — we brought our cameras.

Here’s a snapshot of our town, the day after the Blizzard of 2013 blew in.

Bobbi Essagof captioned this simply "Jeter and Eliot walk downtown."

Bobbi Essagof captioned this simply “Jeter and Eliot walk downtown.”

Another shot of the iconic snow mound downtown. This one comes courtesy of Joelle Malic.

Another shot of the iconic snow mound downtown. (Photo by Joelle Malic)

Joelle Malic's "King of the Mountain" photo.

Joelle Malic’s “King of the Mountain” shot.

A sight you will never again see: The deserted Post Road, 12:30 on a Saturday afternoon.

A sight you will never again see: The deserted Post Road, 12:30 p.m. Saturday.

When a dog's gotta go... (Photo by Bobbi Essagof)

When a dog’s gotta go… (Photo by Bobbi Essagof)

As usual, a cat was in charge. (Photo by Audrey Hertzel)

As usual, a cat was in charge. (Photo by Audrey Hertzel)

Terry Brannigan spent hours blowing snow. Then his boys turned it into a fort.

Terry Brannigan spent hours blowing snow. Then his boys turned it into a fort.

Adrian Mueller and his 9-year-old son Jaden (hidden, left) shoveled snow off their roof.

Adrian Mueller and his 9-year-old son Jaden (hidden, left) shoveled snow off their roof.

"Look how high the snow is!" says the daughter of a photographer named Meredith.

“Look how high the snow is!” says the daughter of a photographer named Meredith.

This is what happens when you leave your car in the post office parking lot overnight in a blizzard.

This is what happens when you leave your car in the post office parking lot overnight in a blizzard.

In the middle of last night's snow, Zack Swanson built an igloo.

In the middle of last night’s snow, Zack Rosenberg built an igloo…

...and Clay Singer and Michelle Pauker created this snowman. Clay is 6-2, so I'm guessing the snowman is 9 feet tall.

…and Clay Singer and Michelle Pauker created this snowman. Clay is 6-2, so I’m guessing the snowman is 9 feet tall.

Still, as Audrey Hertzel's gorgeous photo reminds us, spring is right around the corner.

Still, as Audrey Hertzel’s gorgeous photo reminds us, spring is right around the corner.

Waxing Enthusiastic

Alert “06880” reader Terry Brannigan has a modest collection of vintage cars. He loves turning wrenches. And though he doesn’t mind waxing — well, they don’t call it Westport Wash & Wax for nothing.

Yet the other day, when Terry went to pick up a car, an attendant pointed out some minor damage. “It was truly an accident,” Terry notes. “No one’s fault.”

But it’s an old car — not easy to repair — and when Terry walked inside to talk with the owner, he prepared himself for a tough time. After all, no businessman wants to admit an employee screwed up. Right?

Wrong.

A typical scene at Westport Wash & Wax.

“He could not have been more sincere or accommodating,” Terry said. “He was not only willing to make things right — he insisted I take it to some place I trusted. He said if I wanted, he’d handle any bills directly with the repair shop.”

Terry headed to Bridgeport’s Dragone Classic Motorcars. They matched the unique paint color perfectly.

Not only did Westport Wash & Wax reimburse Terry immediately — they added coupons for a couple of free washes.

We hear so much about poor customer service. And why not? It’s easy to find fault.

How refreshing — and inspiring — to find a local business that gets it right.

Let’s hope this story drives a few customers their way.

It Never Rained On This Parade

When Monday’s Memorial Day parade was washed out, Terry and Laurie Brannigan, their kids and a few random others decided to form their own.

Wet but patriotic, they marched up and down the neighborhood — Blue Coat Lane, across from Bedford Middle School.

When the sun came out, they set up a lemonade stand on North Avenue.  Young TJ Brannigan pulled in $45 — which he promptly donated to veterans’ efforts.

The parade drew smiles from passing motorists.  The lemonade stand earned praise from all who stopped.

And the memories of this Memorial Day will no doubt last longer than those of any ol’ downtown parade.

When You’re A Jet…

“06880” reader Terry Brannigan spent yesterday at PJ Romano Field.  A flag football fundraiser raised money for breast cancer awareness.  He says:

I was dreading 3 hours of 2nd grade football.  But it was a great event.

Joe Klecko of the NY Jets was there signing autographs.  In world full of divas, dog fighters, philanderers and anabolically supported superstars, this guy is the complete opposite.

 

Laurie Brannigan and Joe Klecko

 

You cannot believe what a great guy he is.  He had time for everyone, and physically looked great.  He signed footballs, t-shirts and jerseys (often on the backs of the kids) and photographs.  He did not grunt his answers but engaged each person, asking as many questions as he answered.  What a refreshing surprise.

25 years ago he was the guest speaker at a father/son breakfast at Assumption Church I went to with my father.  He happily signed a note for me to give to my dad.

I’m not a sports junkie, but a handful of names that mean something.  Joe Klecko is one of them.  His manner today compared to the “bling” of current athletes is as obvious as his manner was on the line compared to Mark Gastineau.  Joe looks fantastic and happy.

I was blown away by how gracious the guy was.  I’m sure he could have mailed it in, but instead he brought it.

PS:  Check out the size of his mitts!

Joe’s Jiu-Jitsu

Last April, Westport native Terry Brannigan shared his memories of growing up near the Mill Pond with “06880” readers.

Today he turns his thoughts to wrestling, friends — and jiu-jitsu.

We live in a town obsessed with three sports:  soccer, football and baseball.  Others are up and coming, but wrestling seldom makes cocktail party chatter, or sparks debate or drama about tryouts, cuts and travel teams.

I wrestled at Staples, and with Nick Garoffolo coached there for nearly 10 years.  In the process I met wonderful kids and parents, and we won our share of titles.

The plaque over the door to any wrestling room could almost be replaced by the inscription at the foot of the Statue of Liberty:  “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses.”

Or maybe:  “Give us your short, skinny or heavy kids who did not make the travel team.  They’re welcome here!”

Rarely does the athletic superstar choose wrestling.  Why would he?  It’s misunderstood, the uniforms are funny-looking, and it’s hard.

There's no hiding on the wrestling mat, as Staples' Andrew Nederlof knows.

If the #1 tennis player gets beaten, it’s a tough loss.  But his opponent was a better player that day.  Imagine the 9th grader — 95 pounds soaking wet — who has to step out onto the mat wearing tights.  He faces down the opposing senior captain with his peers, mother and possibly his girlfriend in the stands — only to have his shoulders pinned to the mat for all to see.

Then he stands there watching his opponent’s arm get raised — and walks alone back to the bench.  There’s no shade.

However, to those of us who wrestled, it remains the greatest sport on earth.  It’s the most honest and sportsmanlike pursuit in high school athletics, and that’s why the lessons we learn on the mat stay with us for life.  It is both an exclusive fraternity, and open to all.  You are a wrestler for life — and it changes lives.

Nothing makes me happier than bumping into the legions of kids I coached.  As a father, I pined for the day when I could introduce my boys to the sport.

Like their dad, they will never be big or tall — you can’t coach height.  Luckily, wrestling has weight classes.  So 2 years ago I enrolled Terry Jr. (6) and Eamon (4) in the Westport Recreation Department wrestling program.

On the first day, to my wonder and pleasure we were greeted by John Chacho.  The same John Chacho who coached crosstown rival Bedford Junior High when I was a kid — the same wonderful man who  fed Nick and I wrestlers at Staples for years.  There he was, right where he belongs: on the mat, rolling with the kids.  There’s no other way to teach the sport.  It’s the circle of life.

In a room full of celebrities, hedge fund masters of the universe and beautiful women, 2 wrestlers will find each other and ignore everything else to talk about matches that took place 20plus years ago.  It’s in the blood.

Fast forward to the 2009 Staples football season.  I was at the fence watching the action when a guy to my left whispered, “You still beating guys up on the mat?”  I turned to see the unmistakable smile of Joe Oppedisano.  I coached him at Staples.  As we reunite, I can’t help but notice the positive changes in the shape of his ears, breadth of his back and girth of his neck.  The guy’s been busy.

Joe Oppedisano

Joe modestly says that he has been practicing jiu-jitsu.  (By “practicing” he means competing at the world championship level).  Jiu-jitsu is a remarkable art, filled with the same kind of people you find in a wrestling room. Technique always beats athleticism, and divas need not apply.

The circle of life continues.  Joe was opening his own studio on the Post Road in Fairfield.  I couldn’t wait to check the place out.  I had tried  various “martial arts” places around town for the boys.  It felt more like daycare wearing a gi.  I wrote checks to pay for colored belt ceremonies almost monthly.  I’m sure that’s great for some, but it was not what I was looking for.

We checked out East Coast United Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu before it officially opened.  I found the room full of participants (male and female).  I quickly recognized my lifelong friend  Skip Garoffolo, and one of my favorite wrestlers:  Andy Lobsenz.  Then Jeff Lauzon joined.  It’s like moths to the flame.  Roll out a wrestling mat and people show up!

Joe is now coaching me — and I have taken over for John Chacho.  The circle of life continues.

Terry and Eamon go 2 to 3 times a week.  They’ve learned so much in such a short time — and they love it.  Joe has an amazing way with the kids.  He makes it fun, while teaching the fundamentals of fitness, strength, technique and responsible self-defense.

On Eamon’s birthday he stopped class early and surprised us with a birthday cake.

The place has a great vibe.  Anyone who understands anything I’ve written above will fit right in.

You’ll probably come out wearing a gi.


Bloody Marys And The Mill Pond

Terry Brannigan is a native Westporter.  He still lives here — and, with his wife, is raising a young family.  Last week he went to the library to see “The End of an Era” — Chuck Tannen’s film about our town in the before-Terry-was-born 1950s. Here’s his report:

When I got to the library I should have known I’d be in trouble.  Drivers circling the lot for parking spaces were as aggressive as the shoppers at Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

When I got inside, the place was packed.  The movie was already under way, and a semi-angry mob waited in the lobby for a 2nd showing.   I distracted the bouncer at the door long enough to peer inside.

Since I already had a “hall pass” from my wife, I debated staying for the next show, going home or finding a Bloody Mary somewhere.  I settled on #3.

I pulled into the parking lot of the River House Tavern and met the same aggressive drivers looking for parking spaces, only this time we all shared the conviction of someone looking for Bloody Marys.  I found a spot and headed inside alone (a therapist would call this a cry for help).

As I approached the door I was flooded with my own Westport memories.  Owner Scott Rochlin and I went to Staples together, and I count him as a friend.

This is all that remains of Allen's Clam House. (Photo courtesy of Westportct.gov)

We both did our internships at Allen’s Clam House behind the broiler working for Wayne Uccellini, and now Scott owns his own place.  Back then I worked as hard as I ever have in my life, and I can’t tell you how proud I was to sport a chef’s jacket next to Wayne.

Back then everyone seemed to work.  Allen’s was as good a place to be on a Friday night as anywhere else, because Wayne employed half the football and soccer teams.  Being on the broiler (as opposed to the dish washing line) did more for my social status than being elected Homecoming King would have.

Walking up to Scott’s restaurant on a night when I had planned to revisit Westport memories at the library triggered all kinds of my own memories — 99% of them great.  My folks’ 1st house in Westport 50-plus years ago was on Old Mill Beach.  I take my 3 boys to the bridges at Old Mill all the time.  It is as familiar to me as it when I was 10.  However, now as a parent I cringe at the thought of them jumping off the bridge into the current and being swept under the “gates,” only to pop out the other side — as we did for fun and honor back then.

Generations of Westporters have jumped off the Sherwood Mill Pond bridge.

If I squint, the beautiful Newport shingle cottages behind the “No Trespassing” sign on the island look like the bungalows of my youth.  I wonder if I would be grandfathered visitation rights along the sidewalk if I told them my father donated to the state the spit of land out there he was willed by “Loretta” of Loretta Court fame, or if I would be turned away as a trespasser?

Just as importantly, Steve Gargiulo caught a bluefish with his bare hands in the shallows of Old Mill.  I was there to witness it.

I walked up to the River House feeling a bit weird because at 49, I’d never gone into a bar by myself.  But I recognized someone standing outside, and got a big smile.  Stepping inside, I felt a bit like Norm walking into Cheers.  Sometimes I lament that I’m so provincial and live in the same town I grew up in, but guess what?  That town is Westport, and there really is something to be said about growing old(er) in your own home.  I live 2 1/2 miles away from my parents, and my boys see them every week.

At the River House we covered all the topics Wednesday night:  friendships, funny stories, institutions (Allen’s, the Playhouse, my favorite — The Penguin — and more).  We talked about all the famous and infamous local characters and personalities.

In the end, even though I did not see the documentary — it did what it intended.  It made me think about growing up here.

I’m sure similar reminiscences took place all over town.  No matter how old we were — or are now — Westport has that effect.