Hill Street Blues1981

Sgt. Phil Esterhaus:
Your uncustomary silence testifies amply to the esteem in which we hold the subject of this last item. Now we all know who's in here. [points to a green urn] To most people this would seem just a common urn, but we know it holds one of the premier phone installers of the country: Officer Marvin Oliver Box, or simply Marve, as we knew him. Born, 16 May, 1946, deceased, just last Tuesday, in this very room, with uniform on, and drillbit in hand. Marve must have known that he would be leaving us soon, because we found a small poem in his will, which we've had inscribed on this, this vessel here. [picks up the urn to read the inscription] Uh, "I've laid a lot of cable, and I've strung a lot of line, sure it gets lonely, but that's okay, because it brings people closer together." Per his final will and testament, Marve was cremated yesterday at Bolinsky's Crematorium, and he will lie in state besides the squad room coffee machine for the remainder of the afternoon. [pause] Marve, let's roll, huh? And let's be careful up there. [looks up]