Feel Good Friday: An Officer AND a Gentleman
Local effort by Summit police officer sets a national standard. He also happens to be my best friend.
SUMMIT, Union County - Mike here for the Feel Good Friday takeover. Why a takeover? You’ll see.
I was not prepared to write this, but life’s spontaneity is the glue that bonds mine and Officer Rivera’s friendship. It also happened on July 1st. I’m slightly late to the party here and had no idea this happened, but Officer Rivera is never one to laud himself. Indeed, selflessness has long been a Rivera trait. (He probably won’t even want me to release this).
Let’s start with the good news: Summit Police Officer received a call from, in youth parlance, a “karen.” Kids were soliciting in downtown Summit. Soliciting what, exactly? we don’t know - but this apparently had crime of the century written all over it.
Drugs? No. Alcohol? No. Loitering? Nope.
They were five youths (estimated age probably 10-13 years old) with a 3D printer selling figurines they made. The custom creations ranged from 25 cents to upwards of $7 dollars.
According to Summit Police: “[Officer Rivera] advised the kids (and parents) why he was there, but had a really great time chatting with the artists and checking out their creations. Watch out world — these kids are talented!”
A pleasant surprise yes, but one person was not surprised: Me. To know Ian is to know a humble, family man and a patriot.
Now, I’d like you to meet Officer Ian Rivera.
Florida roots. Central Jersey raised.
Officer River was born in June of 1991 to Colleen and Rod Rivera in New Smyrna Beach, Florida. By the time Ian had made it to third grade, their family settled on Allen Street in Monmouth’s Rumson. One day on the Deane Porter playground, I saw a kid chasing after a silver-and-black basketball in camouflage chino pants. Thinking they were the coolest pants ever (it takes little to impress me, still), we became fast friends.
That was age 9 or 10. We’re 32 now.
A proud RFH Bulldawg, Ian was a letterman in Football (and one time knocked me into the next week). He was also devoted artist having learned guitar by himself. We then began to terrorize our families by having “band practice” in our respective basements.
This wasn’t just picking around either. We were actually pretty good. Van Halen, Cream, Ozzy Osbourne, Michael Jackson….if it was the 1980’s or heavy ass blues, we played it - loud. I recall my mother reluctantly asking us to play Cream’s “White Room” a little quieter. (We didn’t).
A call to arms.
I’ll probably get in trouble for telling this story, but it was formative for me, and for Ian. Sorry in advance.
When September 11th happened, we were in 5th grade. Ian’s mother was due for a visit to the World Trade Center that day. Folks descended upon my mother’s house, including my late father. They had since been divorced, but amidst national tragedy and wanting to support their son’s friend and his family, they put their differences aside. We had not yet heard from his mom.
Thanks be to God, we got in touch with her and all was well. Ian and I don’t talk about that day much, but I could tell that it was formative for him.
Fast forward to 2010 during our stint at Brookdale Community College. Ian had enlisted in the US Marine Corps. I selfishly didn’t want him to go, given that I (still) have very staunch views on foreign policy and how our military is treated. Ian’s calm nature suggested that this was something he had to do. I still don’t know what it was, and I don’t need to know. I knew he had the call to serve.
This wasn’t an easy decision. The Riveras are your typical tight-knit, Irish Catholic family. One being out of the picture for months, let alone in a foreign land, is something out of the peaceful order of their lives. Ian was still dating his high school sweetheart, Kaela Lemke.
When Kaela, who I had known for about three years at this point, not only decided to stay with him but also stood by him in this event horizon, I knew I had to get my selfish ass in order and trust my friend.
Tours. College. Death. Marriage.
I had gone down to Washington DC. Ian went to Parris Island. Come his first tour, Ian and his comrades needed a care package. When I told my Dad, he made plans to go to Costco the next day.
A quick bit about my late Dad— this was not a mere “oh, lets do something nice.” My Dad took everything to its absolute maximum. He not only took it upon himself as his sworn duty to provide for our nation’s heroes — he saw it as a challenge.
$500-plus later, Costco was left a barren wasteland and the US Postal Service probably spent the weekend lathering themselves in Bengay. This Oppenheimer atom bomb sized package (had to do that for the algorithm) could have crippled the common man.
Ian and Kaela visited me at college multiple times after his return home, one time announcing their engagement. The three of us celebrated in DC that evening. That is all we remember.
Come March of 2015, two months before their wedding of the century, I got a call that one of our brothers, Officer Robert Henne of Fair Haven, had passed away. I was slinging hash at the time and almost passed out at work. I called Ian’s Dad hoping that he would tell Ian. I couldn’t tell him that one of our crew had gone on to his eternal reward. We did, and he was devastated.
Yet, when devastation faced Ian, he ran into the storm. I haven’t done that. I still don’t.
In March of 2018, when my father suddenly died, I was just empty. I couldn’t feel. I got a call at 5:00 am a few hours after Dad was taken away on the gurney. It was Ian.
“Hey,” he said nervously.
“Yea,” me not knowing what to say.
“Is it true?” Shit. I have to tell him. I can’t do this.
“Yup.”
I could hear Kaela crying in the background. I could feel Ian fighting back tears amidst a choked “we…we’ll talk about this tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t just myself, my mother, and my sister. Ian and Kaela lost him too. Ian and Kaela set their now three-year wed life together aside to care for me and my family.
Service to country and community.
A lot of people do that “service to God and Country” bullshit as some throwaway phrase to sound macho and don’t truly examine the difficult life decisions people have to make in order to remain fixated on the eternal and live their vocation of service to honor the Lord. St. Thomas More’s last words before his death were “I die the king’s good servant and God’s first.”
I don’t do my patron saint enough justice - but Ian does. Service to God and country is in his DNA.
Ian sponsored himself through Camden County Police Academy. Most counties and municipalities sponsor their recruits, but every department applied to passed on Ian. Why they would pass on a Marine? I don’t know. He graduated with flying colors. (Again, no surprise).
Here’s what I recall about that day: Ian’s smile. Surrounded by family and friends, Ian seemed to be at total peace. He had finally bound what he was born to do: serve. An extension of his call to service first inculcated at Parris Island? Homage to Henne? I don’t know, but he was at peace.
Yet again, while the country’s warring camps debated and demeaned (and destroyed) police across the nation, Ian dove in head first to serve. At times the media and politicians attempt to tear down the police weighed on him, yet he still showed up to work with a positive attitude and eager to serve.
Life now.
On November 1st, Kaela and Ian welcomed their daughter Elise Brigida into the world. I have seen Ian and his wife at many roles in their life, but nothing suits them better than “mom and dad.” Happily employed in the city of Summit, Ian now sees the future benefactor of his service to God, country, and community in Elise.
Moving, careers, and enjoying family life in Point Pleasant Beach is Officer Rivera’s life now. Usually once or twice a month, I take a drive down there and have breakfast or lunch with Ian, Kaela, and my darling goddaughter. It’s as much a blessing as it is a reminder.
How in the hell have I maintained my friendship with these people? Why did they entrust their child’s spiritual development to me?
They’re my source of inspiration and accountability. They keep me honest and on my feet. Most importantly, they’re a constant example of good in this world.
Our culture is decaying. Respect for our institutions has plummeted. God, the family, and the American Dream are under attack from movements and systems that put hedonism before sacrifice.
Kaela’s vocation as a nurse and Ian’s vocation as police officer, and their vocations as parents (and their part-time jobs of keeping me in line) are proof that the cultural and political nightmares we find ourselves in will be awakened by their radical acts of serving others.
So yes, while Officer Rivera’s local efforts set a national example for police and community engagement, I just call that June 30th afternoon a Friday. Not to diminish my dear friend and his service, but because it’s what he does. This seemingly standout example is an extension of a life of service fostered by his family, his wife, and his perpetual call to stand in the breach for everyone.
Whether it’s providing cover fire in Afghanistan, navigating loss, holding your wife’s hand unsure of what’s next as your baby girl enters the world, or a random complaint by some Karen that turns into a young entrepreneur’s best day ever, Officer Rivera is just a synonym for “devotion.”
Officer Ian Rivera - a veteran, New Jerseyan, husband, father, brother, and friend - is what makes Central Jersey the true heart of our home. These are the Main Street stories corporate media masquerading as independent press neglect. These are the stories you’ll find here.
I’m honored that for my first piece, you all got to meet my best friend.
Summit and New Jersey should be proud of Ian. Kaela and Elise are proud. His family is proud. Dad and Henne would be proud.
I am proud.
Mike wouldn’t it be great if you’d entertain a kid’s story perhaps a paper book and/or coloring book