Things were different in 1981. I received the news in a phone call from home, and seeking more information, dialed in WBZ on the radio at night, hoping that its strong signal might find my home in the Hudson River Valley.

The news was not good. Through the hiss and crackle, I heard that a Holliston police officer had been shot and killed, that his alleged killer had been found following a massive search and that the town was in a state of mourning.

Thirty years can be a lifetime, and for Officer John Johnson, who was 31 when struck down, it was. I didn’t know Officer Johnson, and other than for shouting at me for speeding down Marked Tree Road, I don’t think we ever interacted.

But in the sense that everyone in a small town knows everybody else, I did know Officer Johnson. Our mothers had double-dated in high school and our sisters were and remain the best of friends. Officer Johnson’s family was and remains an integral part of our community, and is tightly woven into the fabric that is our town.

Officer Johnson was six years older than I, and the passing of time has clearly placed us in the same generation. Officer Johnson represents the best of that generation, a man who dedicated and gave his life for the protection of those dearest to him. It’s an often-used cliché, but I believe that for Holliston baby boomers, Officer Johnson’s death represented a loss of innocence and an introduction of real world issues for which we were not quite prepared.

Officer Johnson was remembered Saturday morning in a brief ceremony at the police station recognizing the 30thanniversary of his death. Holliston police officers of the past and present, as well as officers from several nearby towns, stood with family and friends in silent tribute to a son of Holliston, who went to work one night and never came home.

Sleep well, John, you are not forgotten.