The life of heroic (and hysterical) John Madden

In the pantheon of eulogies, Tony Vocalina hit one into the upper deck late Friday morning, even drawing vibrant applause from the full house at St. Joseph's Church.

It was perhaps here that Vocalina discovered what many called upon to perform in front of a crowd realize: You can't screw up good material. And Voc had the best, narrating the life and times of his dad, John Joseph “Sonny” “Jumpin' Johnny” Madden.

Madden, another one of the characters who helped give New London its character, died at 82 earlier this month. Funny thing, too, that the elegant and entertaining eulogy aside, Madden's contributions needed no words. Just a simple glance at the church. Not everybody's life gets celebrated before a standing-room-only crowd.

But there are words. Necessary words. Words that must resound. Words that should be repeated. Because very few of us in (and out) of this corner of the world ever embraced the concept of responsibility better than John Joseph “Sonny” “Jumpin' Johnny” Madden.

I started thinking about this as Vocalina detailed his dad's life. Madden was an outstanding basketball player in the city, later inducted into Mitchell College's Hall of Fame. A surface level summary of Madden's life might even suggest that he was heroic during his athletic career, in all those ways we reflexively link heroism to all the on-field efforts.

But Madden died a hero for other reasons. Real-life reasons. He “enjoyed his Friday nights,” as Vocalina said, the way many thirty-something bachelors do. Except at 36, he married the love of his life, Lorraine. John Madden didn't merely marry Lorraine, but became a new dad to Lorraine's three young children: Tony, Mike and Lisa.

He supported them, loved them and assumed all the paternal responsibilities. He loved Lorraine and