My Brother Mick

My brother Mick died recently - 1/11/2019. Easy day to remember. His son in law called with the news. No good way to say it, is what he said. Mick wasn't a youngster - 75 - and his lovely wife had died just a few years ago, after 51 years of marriage. Mick would engage you in conversation like no one else could. I will miss him.

My wife suggested that I write down a few of the stories I have told over the years about Mick - primarily to share with his children and grandchildren. Jude's dad used to tell stories all the time about growing up in MN or when he was driving the Greyhound bus. When he died we all sat around the living room telling his stories. At the funeral, his brother's kids said how much they loved his stories about their father's youth. So here are some stories. See what you think.

Our Parents
You should know first of all that our family history is somewhat different. My dad was a chronic alcoholic - he never drank on Sunday, but I am pretty sure he was intoxicated almost every other day, until he got much older and his kidneys failed. That means that our home was not a "normal" affair. Dad would come home drunk, mom would pry whatever money was left out of his pockets, and we would survive another day. My mom's siblings were of tremendous help to us - especially my mother's sisters. We spent a lot of time in their homes, a lot of time with them on vacations and celebrations. I knew my dad's siblings, but my mom's were an essential part of our life. That larger family is one reason that we remained relatively sane growing up in a dysfunctional household. I owe them all a great deal.

My mom was an amazing lady - full of love for us, compassion for others, and a lot of hard work. She held multiple jobs over the years - retail sales and custodian duty for older citizens. I think her bakery jobs were our favorite - there would always be something special when she got home. She moved out on my dad numerous times, but always went back. In those days, divorce was a rarity, and complicated. And once I had set myself on a seminary path, I think my mom felt that if she left dad, it would reflect poorly on my chances of becoming a priest. She finally did move out after my ordination - thank heavens.

So, you need that background for some of these stories - especially the later ones.

Mick's Name
Mick and I were 4 years apart. I was born before the war, and he was born toward the middle of it. Dad was in the Navy, stationed at the Great Lakes Naval Reserve. They were not going to send someone named Carl Scheider to Germany, when his father had been born there. So he often came home on leave. I remember him with his uniform, and us posing for pictures in the backyard. Some of my earliest memories are packing care boxes to send to dad, and hiding in our bathroom during the blackouts, and shopping at Caspar's grocery with ration coupons. We also had a backyard victory garden, as did everyone else.

My dad was pretty much a full time bigot. He had a name for every minority immigrant group, including the Irish. Dad's parents were full German, father born in Germany, mom one generation removed. They had both grown up speaking German, and we attended the German Church - not the Irish one, and definitely not the Polish one. Dad called all Irish "Micks". And since mom was half Irish - her mother, my grandmother, was Mary Mulaney - he called his newest little boy "Mick'. His full name did include Michael - but anyone that knew him from way back always called him Mick. It was kind of a test for how long you had known him.

Mom - He Hit Me
Now siblings have a bit of rivalry, and being the oldest I had a bit of an advantage. But Mick never let that get in the way. We had a big backyard, and the neighbors on both sides of us had full lots. We all had gardens during the war. We had a back porch on our house with the laundry tubs. It was kind of an add on. One day Mick and I were horsing around about some sibling rivalry thing. I was four years older and had a different circle of friends, and I wanted to play with them. Mom, naturally, wanted me to spend some time watching my brother.  So I'm upset, he's upset, etc. I was sitting on the steps to the back porch, and Mick came up behind me and hit me in the head with a hammer - with the claw end! Holy Spit. It really wasn't that hard - I don't think he drew blood - but did I yell! I don't remember what penalty he got, but I am sure he deserved it.

Stones Over The Hill
Mick was, how do you politely say this, an "unruly" child. He was not bad, he was just, you know, "independent". He had his buddies, and they prowled our neighborhood. We lived on a cul de sac which ended abruptly on a hillside. There were two sets of steps down the two dead ends. There was a vacant lot behind our house, where an older house had once stood - so we had the hillside there for climbing up and down, etc. And there was a large collection of shale rock - part of the original foundation I think.
Mick loved to throw stones. We were, of course, forbidden to play on the hill, and absolutely forbidden to throw stones over it. One day, Mick was heaving large stones over the hill - and he managed to pelt a few vehicles going by on Chartiers street below. Long story short, police were called, cops showed up, etc. Mick spent a few days in the yard as a penalty.

Throwing Stones Again
Mick and Ray McTighe were throwing stones at each other one day. Mick says he slipped, and one hit Ray McTighe in the eye. No permanent damage, but scary. Mom grounded him for a month. He could not leave the yard. The very first day out of the yard he is throwing stones at Jimmy Porter. Jimmy was ducking behind a fence, so Mick called his name, and then threw it as he was looking up - hit him in the eye! He was grounded again - I suspect he also got his behind warmed as well.

Saturday Night Movies
Back then, there were movie theaters in every neighborhood. We had one in Elliot right on Lorenz Ave. There was one in the West End on Main street, and one in Sheridan. We could walk to all of them, but we usually went to the Elliot one. It was about 4 good blocks away. This was before TV of course, and movies were really a big deal. If we got to go to the movies, that was an extraordinary treat. A newscast, a short cartoon, and a feature film - with pop and popcorn. It was absolutely our favorite thing to do. But Mick would always get antsy during the film, and he would always, always start crying and moaning and want to leave. I think he was about 6 years old.
So, one Saturday, Mick says - we should go see this movie. And mom says, there is no way I am taking you to a movie. You always moan and groan and we have to leave halfway through the film. Not going to happen. But Mick groaned, and cried, and promised that he would NOT fuss this time. He would last the whole movie. Please, pretty please!
So mom relented, and off we went. And, guess what, halfway through the feature film he starts groaning and moaning and crying - he just has to go home. We took the alley shortcut home so she could paddle his bum half of the distance to home. That was the end of those movies.

Saturday Morning Movies
On a more positive note, we would often go to Saturday morning movies. The local theater always ran a special with lots of films. It would start with some serials, like Tom Mix and the FBI or something. And then 7 cartoons or 2 or more feature films for kids. We would go to that as often as we could scrounge up the funds.

Kindergarten 
We went to parochial grade school, but for kindergarten everyone went to the local public school. It was literally in the next block. I remember going there and one of my 2nd cousins was in my class. I have a very unhappy memory of some altercation with him, but I was Mr. Goody TwoShoes, so my mom never found out. Mick, on the other hand, was a bit of a problem. He definitely did NOT want to go to school. As I remember the story, Sissy (Ethel) Killmeyer came to our home to take Mick to school every day. She was Gerard's oldest - my mom's brother. As she tells the story, Mick got his arms and legs out at the door in a kind of a cross, and she could not get him in the door. He was independent, as they say.

Our House
We had a nice house. I have a suspicion that my grandfather or my uncle helped my parents with the down payment. In the early years, during the war and later, the upstairs was rented out to help cover the mortgage. We had the three rooms downstairs. It was a duplex, sharing a common wall with the neighbor - the Boehm's. The house only had one full bathroom that we all shared - the upstairs one. So we would set up a schedule when we could all go up and have a bath - usually Saturday night. We also had a toilet installed in a small corner room in our "living" room. That was later moved to the basement when we took over the upstairs.
The Cues also had a real ice box - the ice man made deliveries every week. We, however, had an actual refrigerator! My Uncle Mike would come and babysit us once a week while my mom went to card club. I remember sitting on our sofa / day bed with him in the middle room, listening to radio shows like The Shadow, and Nick Carter. Mike Mulaney was my grandmother's brother, and he lived with them. That is what bachelor brothers did back then. Mike was always on the corner at Chartiers and Lorenz. And I would greet him every time I went by. And I also knew that if I did anything, Uncle Mike would hear about it and my parents would also.
After the tenants moved out, we occupied the upstairs. Mick and I shared the old kitchen, which became our bed room. I remember that there were some old canned goods in the closet there that had literally exploded in the cans.
With both parents working, when we were home, we were in charge. One of our favorite games with the neighborhood kids, was hide and seek - inside the house. That was a bit of a challenge, but we did it. I managed one day to escape detection by climbing out of the bathroom window onto our side porch roof. Then when someone came into that room, I jumped off the roof - and seriously sprained my ankle. Not Mick's fault that time.

Coffee Bag Football
Another time, Mick and I were playing coffee bag football in the house. My mom would always get a pound of coffee in a paper bag. It was a perfect small football for playing catch. But, I missed it, it landed on the floor and broke open. That was a serious investment back then - so I swept it up and put it all in a jar or something. I am sure my mom was not happy - and as I recall that was the end of coffee bag football.

Corner Softball
All the kids in the neighborhood used to play softball right on the corner - with one corner for home base, one for 1st, 2nd and 3rd. We would pitch and hit and run - UNTIL the ball hit a parked car, and then we would really run.

Rec Field Softball
We played ball on the corner, because the big ball field behind the grade school sitting right there across the street from the corner was always locked. It had a really tall chain link fence around it. But, we could climb over that fence, and the little kids would walk all the way around the block and climb over the lower fence on the other end of the field. So we sometimes played softball in that field. The major problem was when we hit a foul ball that went "over the hill". The hillside there was covered with tall bushes, and it was nearly impossible to climb back over the fence, and search in those bushes for the ball. And, needless to say, we did not own more than a few softballs in the whole neighborhood.

Left Handed Hitter
Mick was a left handed hitter, and a right handed thrower - and writer. I think he was naturally a lefty, but the nuns persuaded him that he could write with his right hand. It is probably why his brain was so developed! He used the whole thing.

Weight Lifting
I have many memories of Mick and his 2 buddies - Eddie Coleman and Ray McTighe lifting weights in the Coleman's back yard. They were both Catholic families - one Irish and the other Polish - so they went to different schools and churches, but they were Mick's best friends growing up. I can see them in Coleman's back yard doing their weight lifting routines. Mick was a really solid guy - large arms, large chest - a really big kid. I think he came by it naturally, but the weight lifting helped a bit.

High School Football
I went to the parochial high school, I think with my uncle's help for tuition. Mick went to the public school - a much larger institution. I don't remember much about that, because when he entered high school, I went off to the seminary and college. I remember him telling one story about making the football team, and then being harrassed by some bigger players, and figuring there was no way he was going to put up with that.

Confronting Dad
By high school, Mick was a big guy, and he could easily intimidate someone. My dad was often physically abusive to my mom. It was mostly shouting and yelling, but I know he did more than that. When I left for college, the burden fell on Mick. Normally when dad came home like that, we just ran and hid somewhere - all of us. I feel bad about that now - I should have stayed and helped - but that is a long time ago, with different values. My mom would not have wanted me to do that, for sure.
Mick told me the story about confronting dad. Dad had come home intoxicated, and he was threatening mom and Mick. Mick said he grabbed a baseball bat, and hit him with it - hard. Got his attention. And he told him that if he ever hit mom again, he would beat him senseless with it. As I understand it, dad never threatened physical violence again. You would never doubt Mick would do it, and it worked.

Living Room Discussions
I visited Mick often - while in the seminary, later, after I met Judy, when we were married. And we always talked. We had, as they say, lively discussions. He was a very opinionated type, and I am of a similar bent - ask anyone that knows us!
I thoroughly enjoyed the discussions. I would not say he was conservative - he was more "pragmatic" - that can't be right, that wouldn't work, etc. I was "fact based" and a world traveler! I remember one occasion when we were going at it about the war in Vietnam, and his daughter, Amy, came in the room and asked me to stop yelling at her dad! I was not yelling at him - we were just talking - but it sure sounded like yelling.
In all those years, we never shared a word in anger - just disagreements!

Honeymoon Visit
When Jude and I got married, he was the best man. Jude and I left on our honeymoon trip to New Orleans and Florida. We stopped to stay with Mick and Dorth on our way home. They had a nice 3 BR home where they always lived. They had made room for Jude in one of the bedrooms, and set out some bedding for me on the floor. I went up to wish Jude a good night - when I finally came back down, they had gone to bed, and had removed the bedding. They figured I was going to sleep with Jude in the single bed - well - and that is what I did!

The Cabin - Bonfire
Harold and Flo, my mom's sister, had bought a place in the mountains. Everyone helped build it, and everyone loved it. Mick bought one nearby for a few years. We all gathered up there to visit. It was like a periodic family reunion. Everyone would come to the mountains and sleep somewhere. I remember one evening when the bonfire got a little out of hand. I think it was that spare tire that Mick put on there! We thought the whole forest would catch on fire. He always was a bit of a pyromaniac with fires.

Investments
Mick was always into the world of business and investments. He loved the internet, and the newspapers, and magazines. I swear he read everything in the world about every company he invested in. He loved finding an opportunity. When he retired, with settlements and everything, he had a sizeable fund to work with. Dorth, however, thought it was scary and took up way too much of his time. She made him promise to stop at some point. I am pretty sure he did not. The last time I talked with him, he still had several companies he was watching. It was more of a long term game with him - he enjoyed it thoroughly and did it well.

Politics
Mick loved politics as well. He thought every politician was crooked in some way or other, and was into it for themselves, so he never voted. That was why Dorth would not let him talk about politics. The rest of us were more flexible.

Telephone Calls
The very best thing about Mick was just talking with him. Visiting was best, but a call was also wonderful. We could talk for 45 minutes with no problem. He was full of stories and ideas and jokes. He was the most outgoing individual I have ever met. I think he could have sold anything to anyone. He would call, and pretend to be some kind of salesman or police or IRS or something. That would set the tone, and it would just go on from there. He told stories about the family, relatives, economy, politicians - you name it. He was interested in hundreds of things and loved to talk about them. I always got off the phone thinking, man, I wish I could do that. But it was great fun. That is probably the thing I will miss the most - his call and chat. I loved that, and I loved him.

A Softie
Mick was a big guy and tough, and you would not want to challenge him physically. He was also an emotional guy who really felt for others. That came from our mom. He talked a good fight, but he was a real softie inside. Back in 1975, he decided that he needed to buy a gun - for protection or something. He bought a 22 rifle. Not a huge weapon, but a rifle. He took it up to the cabin to see what it would do. We went back in the woods away from everyone. Mick loaded the 22, and was aiming up the creek at rocks and things.  Lo and behold, there was this tiny chipmunk sitting on a rock, about 30 yards away.  Mick figured he would never be able to hit the thing, so he aimed at the chipmunk and fired.  Well -- he hit the poor thing and killed it.  It just flopped over, and lay there in a little, furry heap.
He was shocked.  He said, "Oh, no".  Just then, another chipmunk popped up, and came to sniff at the dead one, and then ran off.  We were sure this was the mate -- and Mick was even more distressed.  He was truly remorseful, with tears in his eyes. I don't know what became of the gun, but I never saw Mick with it again.

Mick and Dorth
If you knew them, you had to realize that Mick and Dorth had a very special relationship. His greatest love was Dorth, then his kids and grandkids. Mick has told this story many times about how they met. Dorothy Lucot was an absolutely beautiful girl. If you see pictures of her then, she rivaled Jackie Kennedy. The first time Mick saw her was in a large gathering and she was across the room. He was smitten. He told his friends with him that he was going to marry that girl and he had not yet even met her - and he did. She was a wonderful partner to Mick. He was wonderful with her, and loved her greatly. She tempered him and improved him. Everyone loved Dorth.
When she died so suddenly, we were really afraid for him. The pain was great just because their love was so great. But he survived. And that is why the tale he told in his obituary was so telling. As he wrote, every night he would say, "Goodnight Dorth. I'll see you in the morning." And then one morning last week, he did not awake, and they met. As he quoted from the song by Garth Brooks, "I could've missed the pain, but I'd of had to miss the dance."

Conclusion
Find someone you love. Dance with them. Go sit with them. Chat with them. Call them - do it for them, and for yourself. Every day, just stay in bed for the first few minutes after you awake, and hold those you love in your mind - wish them well. Wish them a good morning. It will change your day and your life. Trust me on this.
For me, I am going to wish my lovely wife Judy a fond "good night, I'll see you in the morning" for the rest of our lives. Thank you Mick. I will miss you always.