Uncle Mike was beloved by his many nieces and nephews, yet there was always a little bit of fear when he walked into the room. I can relate, as I was his baby sister by 8 years and several inches.
He was a fascinating big brother. Strong, well-liked by his peers and unpredictable, he was fun to watch, but you also had to watch your back. The younger siblings never knew when the threat of a “whirly” would finally come to pass (picture head in toilet - FLUSH - instant soaking wet bee-hive hairdo). Food fights were not uncommon. One time I remember hair full of sticky raw egg, and a face full of cupcake frosting on another occasion. We had to hide our personal candy stash from him - he never pretended to eat it, he simply ate. We had one locking door in the house - the bathroom. If you were chased, you had to have enough of a lead to slam and lock the door before he reached it. Otherwise you braced yourself against the sink with both feet pressing on the door while his arm, caught in the door, flailed wildly in search of its human target.
When we all grew up, if you can call it that, his teasing shifted to the next generation. Every niece and nephew was christened by having their infant bodies pressed to the ceiling by his long, strong arms while the mother (one of Mike’s sisters) pleaded for him to stop. Only baby Noah had the distinction of stopping the ceiling fan with his small skull.
When Gramma bought the oldest nieces their first barbie dolls for Christmas, it didn’t take long for Mike to behead them and proceed with a game of keep-away with another uncle. Doll heads bounced over the support beams in the rec room to the sound of screaming 5 year-olds.
My favorite memory of Mike with my little Delaney was when he convinced her that if she allowed him to draw all over her face in sharpie, then he would let her do the same to him. I’ll never forget his devilish laughter as she chased him, face thoroughly decorated in thick black lines, yelling, “Not FAIR! It’s MY turn!!” He placed the marker up high, out of anyone else’s reach and that was that. It was days before that marker completely faded away.
Ella was only a toddler when she learned where to find her shoes when Mike was around. He always took her black patten leather shoes, filled them with ice and hid them in the freezer. At first we would actually LOOK for them around the house, but it wasn’t long before we knew where to find them and she would have to put the stiff, frozen shoes on her tiny feet.
He was also wonderful with all of the kids. He took them sailing, rowing, skiing and mountain climbing. He wanted them to be adventurous and free, like him. If one of them showed fear he would push them even further until they realized that there was nothing to fear. Or if there was, to be very, very careful.
I am sad that we lost Mike when my girls were still young. The older cousins had more time to learn from him and appreciate what he had to share. And to conquer their fears. My fear, when he died, was that he would be forgotten. Thankfully he lives on in his nieces, nephews and other loved ones, in their adventurous spirits and priceless memories.
Happy Birthday, Big Brother. Wish you were here.
(at top - picture of Mike with the prize octopus he caught scuba-diving in front of our childhood home. A scared young Sharon sits safely up in the kitchen window)
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