Ladies and Gentlemen, good afternoon and thank you for allowing me to say a few words on this most solemn occasion. It is unfortunate that this travesty has brought us together.
I saw him just last week. He was out in his yard taking care of the grass. His grass. It was his pride and joy. Constantly out manicuring his lawn, never giving anyone any problems and no one bothering him. Well, maybe the occasional trespass of the neighboring lawnmower, but nothing of great significance. Our little furry friend, J. Edgar Hoover, groundhog extrodinaire.
Using some of the words of Shakespeare from Julius Caesar, "I am here to bury him, not praise him". Although that sounds appropriate, to bury him, a person can’t help but praise him in the process.
He had his quirks around his property, he was one strange animal. Not allowing anyone to get near him enough to find out what was going on in his mind. Not even I, the one person that saw him and spoke to him almost every day, could get to really know him. All I ever received from him was a huffy snort and the sight of his back as he went off to his burrow or another part of his yard. Sure, there were times when I would try to get his attention from the window, but to no avail. It was like I wasn’t even there.
Yes, he will truly be missed. J. Edgar Hoover, Groundhog.
He was a groundhog, and therefore not subject to the restraints placed upon the rest of us here at the FBI National Academy, he flaunted his freedom, nay, snickered and sneered at those of us that aren’t allowed to walk upon the grass from building to building. Seeing people standing outside the doors, some smoking their cigarettes, J. Edgar would put his little black nose up in the air, taking a whiff and then scampering off to nibble on the lush grass somewhere else, not to be disturbed by pesky humans.
A person wonders what kind of solitary existence he really had. Was he lonesome? Did he have any true friends? What about family? Surely, he had some family somewhere, although I never saw any. There has to be a wife, a son, a daughter, possibly grandchildren that are grieving his passing. It’s hard to imagine leaving this life, this mortal container and not having a proper burial. But, true to his beliefs, he wandered off to be with nature and his Creator. Always one to be with his true passion and the elements. The forest will be his home now. The birds, the deer, the other groundhogs that have gone before him.
There is no doubt that J. Edgar Hoover, groundhog, will have some other relative living in his burrow underneath the downspout splashguard and chomping on his grass. But, let us not forget the significance of his death.
Although we do our best to live by Jerry Smith’s health tips, without proper exercise to compliment proper diet, we all will get to be fat, furry animals. Thereby, letting J. Edgar’s death be in vain. Will we not have learned anything from the misfortune of such a personable animal? Had the stress of so many new FBI, DEA and NA students been too much for him? The constant harassment of all those people looking at him, tapping windows, trying to get his attention. We will never know. It just might have been too much for him to handle.
No, he wasn’t "Pauxatawney Phil", being pulled out of his home on the 2nd of each February. He wasn’t a prognosticator of the remaining weather for each winter. He would never have let anyone get that close. He was a normal whistle-pig, a typical groundhog, he was….J. Edgar Hoover.
To take poetic license and use Shakespeare
again from Julius Caesar, "His life was gentle, and the elements So mixed
in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, ‘This was a
groundhog’. Good-bye, J. Edgar. It won’t be the same around the Academy
for the remaining 4 weeks. But we shall try to remain strong and carry
on your independent ways. Because, we know that you would want it that
way.