Uncle Corky

 My uncle, Nick “Corky” Hinko, was a Chicago cop. For his entire career he ran right into the middle of the trouble. Think about that. We would seek to distance ourselves from such situations. But his job was to be right there, trying to protect us from the bad guys. See how big he looks standing next to his police car? That’s not a camera trick. If you were in a tough spot, Corky would be the guy you’d want to see rolling up.

This short piece isn’t about the battle between the cops and the bad guys. You can find a mile high stack of stories about that. This is about Corky.

Getting ready for a day’s or a night’s work, Corky would put on the uniform and pack his belt with the gun, the bullets, the nightstick, the sap, the handcuffs, the notepad and pens, the jacket and cap. He’d grab his lunch and thermos of coffee and head out to whatever that day would bring. Day after day, sweltering summers, freezing winters, he was there for the people of Chicago, to serve and protect.

At the end of the day, he’d return home, put away all the cop stuff and be our uncle; happy, mild mannered, soft spoken, wanting to know about our day - he never talked about his - and what we would like to do now that his work was done. A favorite for all of us was a trip to our cottage in the Indiana Dunes. Grandma and Grandpa would pack a picnic, Uncle Corky would pull up to the curb and we’d head out.

I think getting away from the city helped my uncle clear his head. He wrestled with the bad guys yesterday and he’d be back at it tomorrow, but for the moment he was among the trees, lake shore and quiet.

Corky took such a warm-hearted interest in the lives of all his nieces and nephews. He never married. He had a couple of girlfriends. He was the youngest sibling and, in the old world tradition, stayed with his parents through their elderly years till their deaths. 

 

As a Chicago cop, his stance, even in this relaxed situation, shows him standing upright, at attention. Here he's pictured working on a retaining wall built of railroad ties. The Indiana Dunes were, and are, in constant motion. If you don't make them stand still they will move over your property.

When we - the nieces and nephews - gathered to voice over the 8mm home movies that Corky had shot through the years, my wife Donna was quite moved. Afterward, when she and I were in private, she said the chorus of voices was like a love poem to Corky. He deserved it.