Maynard Thomas, Requiescat in pace.

LEFT: Guardian Angel


"Dear angel! Ever at my side.
How loving must thou be
To leave thy home in heaven to guard
A guilty wretch like me."











Maynard, known affectionately as "Sergeant" Thomas is dead at age 76. The cliche addicted local newspaper said Maynard "wandered away from" his "personal care facility" on January 26 and was found dead "near some railroad tracks" on February 9. He "apparently died of natural causes".


I worked with Maynard many years ago. He was a security guard at a place that didn't need a whole lot of security. But Sergeant Thomas was the public face of the place. He was almost always friendly and helpful to everyone. I mostly remember his stories of his days as a small-time pro wrestler and an occasional bodyguard for Frank Sinatra.

Maynard once sold me an old car stereo when he got a new one.

I lost track of him when I got a different job. Then the place where he worked changed hands a couple of years later and I didn't think of Sergeant Thomas much anymore.

I only saw him once after that, about ten years ago. He was sitting in a McDonald's reading his morning paper and nursing a cup of coffee. He didn't recognize me at first, (and maybe he never did) but we both enjoyed talking about all the people we knew way back when. Nostalgia is not really my thing, but Maynard helped me realize how much fun I had had before I grew up.

Maynard never mentioned his family, except his dead mother and his father who had been rough on him. I don't expect a big crowd at his "services and burial" on Thursday. He will be buried across the street from the apartment he rented when I bought his car stereo and about a mile from where we worked together.

The cemetery belongs to a church of which Maynard was not a member. Or, at least he did not appear to be very religious when I knew him. I guess it's possible he found some kind of religion in his later years.

From the clues in the newspaper, I have been led to believe Maynard was a practically indigent and demented old man. Then he wandered off in the middle of winter without his medication, died, and was found a couple of weeks later. I do not blame society, the government, his "care-givers", or anyone else for his lousy death. I only blame myself.

Maynard was alone for decades and he chose to live that way. He died the same way. I'm just saying it would not have hurt me to keep in touch with him.

Let Maynard's death serve as a warning to all you kiddies out there in the far-flung corners of Bloggerdom. No matter how tough you think you are, there will come a time when you need somebody, and then where will you turn?

Postscript (2/16/06): Well, they burned up my old pal Maynard. It could have been worse. They might have scattered him over some infield somewhere. (He loved baseball.) As it was, he was laid to rest next to a brother I didn't know he had. (Maybe Maynard had returned to the family denomination, after all.) There was a pretty good turnout, all things considered. One gentleman at the graveside appeared to be a nephew. I was reminded of something I had forgotten: Maynard beat alcoholism and always thanked Jesus for the strength to do it.

Some kind of generic minister read some bible verses. That was good. He didn't exactly offer anything new in the "extemporaneous" remarks department, but I guess that would be asking too much. I know I should not complain. It's not like we Catholics have Requiem Masses anymore.

Anyway, Sergeant Thomas, I trust you are in a better place. Maybe we'll meet again someday and then we can talk baseball and Caddys for...well, forever.

Lord, have mercy on all souls, and especially that of your servant, Maynard.