There are moments when there are no words. Death is such a moment. As much as we want to express our sorrow over a sudden loss of life, we cannot find words that adequately convey what we feel. Whatever we fumble with sounds incomplete. Perhaps, that is how it should be when a beautiful soul departs; we should not be able to sum them up so easily. A person is so much more than a condolence note, an obituary, or a eulogy.
“Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Yesterday, I received an unexpected early morning phone call. It was from the Chief Security Officer of the Port Authority advising me of the death of a Port Authority employee. No one is ever really prepared to deal with the loss of life, I know that from my own personal experiences as a son and a brother, but as a leader of an organization as large as the Port Authority, you have an unshakable obligation to step up during these hard moments because where words fail, compassion, kindness, and empathy find a way to the hearts of those grieving.
We can never lose focus of that. As I was told about the employee’s death, the cause of death came before the name. The victim was walking in a crosswalk on his way to work at 5:05 A.M. and was accidentally struck by a New Jersey Transit bus; the bus driver never saw the victim. My immediate response was that we took care of the family and extended every courtesy to the now-deceased Port employee.
When I heard the deceased man’s name, Jordan Miller, it stopped me. I knew him. I had met Jordan over a dozen years ago, and he had left a lasting impression. At that time, I was serving as a State Senator, and a friend of mine, Victor Herlinsky, asked if he could bring a family friend to my office.
Within a few hours, Victor brought his childhood friend, Jordan, to my office and we had an intense conversation. I learned Jordan was looking for a job and the market was tough. He talked about the motorcycle accident that he suffered when he was 5-years old and the many subsequent operations (I think 30) since that childhood accident.
Jordan said he would take any job and was willing to start at the bottom rung. He simply wanted to hold meaningful employment and provide for his young son. He also informed me that due to that accident, he was left with certain challenges. But Jordan pushed on.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land.”
I shopped Jordan’s resume around and found no takers at the state or other governmental agencies. I checked in every week to those who had his resume and was getting discouraged by the lack of advancement. I had pledged to Jordan when we met that day that his resume wouldn’t leave my desk until he attained that job, and I kept it on my desk to remind me of his joyful spirit and infectious enthusiasm.
As luck would have it, Jordan applied for several jobs, including at the Port Authority, and he finally landed there in October of 2011, as a customer service representative, “Red Cap,” at the Midtown Bus Terminal. Red Caps are responsible for assisting people moving through the bus terminal and are often the first point of contact for people inside the facility. Jordan didn’t mind taking complaints from sometimes angry riders. By all accounts, he was a hard-working, model employee and did everything that was asked of him.
He was loved by his co-workers, who describe him as a “man of routine,” and he will be missed. He was also an avid runner who completed the New York City Marathon for 13 consecutive years, which says something about his focus and commitment to a goal.
Jordan literally died on his way to work as the happy warrior that he was.
I’m thinking about Jordan now as the greater Port Authority family is embracing Jordan’s family and helping with the grieving process. The Port Authority is a family, and when we lose a family member, we grieve together, we hold each other up, and we carry all that was good about that now-lost family member close to our hearts. We need to find a way to remember Jordan and the courageous spirit that he embodied. He leaves behind a 19-year-old son, Jack Miller; his partner, Julie Shrey; a sister; brother; mother and many loving family members, friends, and colleagues.
I share this story with the permission of Jordan’s family and this story has an interesting twist. Long after Jordan was working at the Port Authority, my wife and I, and Victor and his wife, took in a revival of the Broadway play, “That Championship Season.” After the performance, we were told by an usher that we could go backstage to see the various actors. Kiefer Sutherland, Chris Noth, Jason Patric, Jim Gaffigan, and Brian Cox were the stars, so how could we say no. As we walked backstage, Victor hugged Jason Patric and I realized that they were really good friends. Jason Patric walked up to me and shook my hand and said, “Thank-you, senator, for helping my brother, Jordan Miller. He loves his job, and he loves his life.”
I don’t get shocked much, but that was a jaw dropper. I learned that Jason Miller, the playwright of the Pulitzer Prize-winning play I had just seen, was Jordan’s dad. As if that isn’t enough, I was then told that the great actor, Jackie Gleason, was Jordan’s grandfather (his mom was the daughter to the famous “Honeymooner” legend). Talking to the unassuming Jordan, you would never know it. He was as grounded and as real as it gets.
I am deeply saddened by Jordan’s untimely death. I still cannot find adequate words. May you rest in peace, Jordan. You have made us all better people during your all too brief time on this earth.
“Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God.”
Kevin J. O’Toole is the Chairman of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.