This past week would have been my brother Mike’s 75th birthday.He was the middle of three older brothers. He was six years older. Old enough to enjoy a little sister and young enough to have shared time together.
In grade school, there was a time when Mike and Bob were on the basketball team. Craig was the water boy and I was the mascot for the cheer leader squad. Dad was the coach. When we played croquet, badminton or lawn darts, I was paired with Mike. He being a larger child was a natural protector.
We shared the hobby of photography. He taught me to develop my own black and white film and print test sheets of the photos. With this skill, I became one of the photographers for the yearbook.
For a time, Mike worked as a mechanic at the local bike shop. He and my younger brother, Brian, would plan overnight bike excursions. They used a two man pup tent that was easily packed into a bike’s saddlebag. They had two large yellow side bags on the rear , A smaller bag on the handle bars and the smallest bag attached to under the seat for tools.
On one of these trips, Mike and Brian were coming down a long, steep hill. Mike started to brake early but Brian did not. Finally braking, Brian went head over heels over the handlebars and landed down a ravine. Later that night, Brian had poison ivy on his arms and back. The sleeping bag spread the juice from the ivy until his body was covered with blisters.
Mike trained to try out for the MSU football team. All summer, he swam, lifted weights and ran to be in shape for the tryouts. Mike made the freshman squad. Before the season began, the freshmen were pitted against the older players in a green and white matchup. A very large tackle named Bubba Smith tackled Mike and knocked him unconscious. Ending up in the infirmary, Bubba visited and apologized.
“You have to grow a little bigger and stronger to play with us.”
Mike decided that he was not cut out to be a Spartan player.
After college, Mike taught at Walled lake Western high school. But the draft changed that,. His number was low . He thought about going to Canada but stayed and signed up for chaplain’s training. Of the 32 recruits in his training class. 30 were stationed in parts of Vietnam , two were sent to Germany. Mike was one of the chaplains sent to Germany. Day after day, he and a priest had to unzip body bags and preform the last rites by making the sign of the cross on eyes, ears, month and arms and legs. Often, the decomposing bodies were unrecognizable Often they were identified by their dog tags. This changed Mike. where once a outgoing man who loved to laugh was, now a young man was quiet and thoughtful before speaking.
After coming home, he went back to pursue his Master’s at Central Michigan University. There he met and later married his future wife, Kathy. Together, they raised four children, three boys and one girl.
Moving to change jobs and homes for his expanding family, visits were less frequent.
Mike loved gathering our extended family together. For many he and Kathy hosted Thanksgiving dinner. The annual basketball game with cousins and uncles pitted against each other. One year, Ruth joined in the game, She was allowed to make a basket without being blocked. After the game, we visited until dinner was ready. The large table was augmented by the kids table. One year, Megan and her fiancee John had to sit at the kids table. They were both in their late twenties.
Mike died several years after a long bout with cancer. He was a fighter all his life. I still think of his love for his family and his kindness for his baby sister.
carolaspot@aol.com
7-25-23
traveling up and down the blind highway 