Remembering this incident, and Bonni’s words, it would not surprise her at all that, despite an early departure from the office, I went the wrong way on the Beltway to her funeral, and arrived after the spectacular CBP Air fly-over tribute and barely in time to be one of the standing-room-only mourners, straining to see and hear those fitting and deserved tributes. Somehow, I think, Bonni would have found it funny, and somewhere, I feel, she must shaking her head, knowing that my misdirection was an inherent part of my challenged and recessive maleness.

Early in her 30-year CBP career, Bonnie Tischler took aim at a less traveled career path, and that made all the difference.

Saying goodbye was so difficult for the multitudes of those whose lives she touched, but no less difficult for Bonni, who must have been looking down on so many of her friends in silent sorrow, wondering at the understated grandeur of the service, and whether or not she was looking, in the immortal phrase of Billy Crystal, “simply maaahvelous.” Of course we never saw her that one last time in a way that she and we would have wanted. And we won’t again, except in the misty memories that will flash unexpectedly into our consciousness, reminding us, that although she is gone, she will be forever with us.

I first met Bonni when I was the new Director of Public Affairs and she was the Special Agent in charge for Tampa. In my world, the concept of women cops was alien. Women federal agents were almost out of the question. But, I was impressed, and fascinated. Over the years I became her unofficial PR man and she cleansed me of any vestiges of Eisenhower-generation chauvinism. I may have taught her a few things, but she taught me so much more.

She was obsessive about quoting her favorite poem, “The Road Less Traveled” by Robert Frost. After hearing it for the hundredth time I tried hard to get her to use something more modern. Surely there must be something from Dylan or Lennon that could replace it. It was one of the many PR battles I lost. And, as I listened to Marcy Forman’s eulogy on the day of Bonni’s funeral, where Marcy detailed what Bonni’s career meant to the wave of women in law enforcement that came after her, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Bonni had almost single handedly turned that road less traveled into the New Jersey Turnpike.

Perhaps no one worked more closely with Bonni than Marcy Brodsky and Dick Hoglund, and Dick made the first summation of the life and legend of Bonni at the funeral chapel. As her longtime Deputy, Dick Hoglund recounted the battle of Mars/Venus, left brain/right brain, man/woman, which he knew only too well. Dick earned his Purple Heart in the battle of the sexes, and when it came to dealing with Bonni, he earned a permanent role in the long running series, “Bonni Knows Best.”

Jay Ahern gave a wonderful synopsis of Bonni’s role as Assistant Commissioner for Field Operations, especially her love of the K9 program. On her last day in her office, the puppies came in to say goodbye. Unfortunately for Jay, one had to heed the call of nature. Bonni turned to him smiling, and said, “it’s OK. It’s your office now.” Jay read an elegant farewell from Commissioner Bonner, who will miss her courage and tenacity. Former Commissioners George Weise and Myles Ambrose were there, as well as Ambassador Richard Carlson. President Bill Clinton, the World Customs Organization’s Michele Danet, and Women In Federal Law Enforcement all sent flowers, and her jeweler flew in from Miami.

It wasn’t quite the extravaganza that her retirement party was where every living Commissioner of Customs, with one exception, members of Congress, Hollywood actors, and a who’s who of law enforcement and the trade turned out for what may have been the most extravagant send off in the history of law enforcement. Under the watchful eye of Bonni’s trusted confidant, Marcy Brodsky, that going-away party was the Customs social event of the decade, despite Bonni’s constant admonition to Marcy that “it costs too much. Nobody will come.” In the end, nearly 300 attended.

Her stepfather, Dr. Stanley Kessel, and brother Andy Kessel delivered the most moving tributes at Bonni’s funeral. There was no talk from them of shattering glass ceilings and countless career milestones laced with the usual professional acronyms. They were focused only on Bonni the person, from childhood until the end. Her cats, the St. John’s outfits, shopping, and the one great love of her life who paid the ultimate public service sacrifice in Viet Nam, detailed fondly, humorously and tearfully, draped flesh on the legend and pulsed blood through her veins. This was, I know, how Bonni would have wanted it. To those of us who knew her, Bonni the person may well have been her greatest accomplishment of all.

Just before she passed away, a recent addition to her house, known as the cat sunroom was completed. She had hoped to spend many days sitting on a couch with her beloved pets Babes and Goldie, sipping a cup of coffee and looking out on her landscaped yard. She had also just been told that she was elected to the Miami Beach High School Hall of Fame by the Alumni Association, an award that meant as much to her as the Alumni of Distinction Award she received from the University of Florida in 2002.

There was stirring solemnity in the exquisitely choreographed ICE/CBP honor guard, and the eerie finale of the live final call from sector. And the service ended.

Walking from the Danzansky-Goldberg funeral chapel into the bright August sun, I couldn’t help but think of the next time I knew I was scheduled to see her. Bonni, Marcy and some other CBP employees were going to the Elton John concert. The rest of us will no doubt go, but this time, when Elton sings “the candle burned out long before the legend ever did,” we won’t be choking back our tears from the beauty of the sentiment, but for our memories of the person and “the legend of Bonni T.”