Lover of Children, Stealer of Hubcaps

Thursday night, my brother, Mike, left this realm for the next.  I first felt relief that he would no longer suffer with every breath he took. He knew that morning that the process of dying had in some way gained momentum. In my sadness, as I drove to my mother's to tell her this most painful news, I wept in prayer thanking The Lord for the mercy of Mike's release from his pain and struggle. At the same time, my heart breaks for my mother, for his most beautiful and faithful wife, Vickie, and his children, grandchildren, and great grandchild.  He loved them well. He will be well-remembered. We will find solace in the life he led and the stories of high hilarity in which he stars.

Mike loomed large in my growing up years. He is the sibling to whom I was closest in age, and we sort of had a love-hate relationship at times. He teased me unmercifully. I worked at getting him in trouble. I am not particularly proud of this, but when he would babysit me, I kept my eye on the clock. As the time approached for my parents' return, I would begin to weep. He knew, as did I, that my parents (Daddy in particular) would automatically assume that he had done something to cause my tears. He would beg me to tell him what he had to do to stop my crying. It usually involved money.  It is a wonder that he ever spoke to me when we became adults.

In junior high, I would give Mike part of my lunch money to buy cigarettes. By this point, I no longer exercised control over him, and simply wanted to remain in his good graces. When he was in Vietnam, he periodically mailed me money to pay me back.  He was a man who avoided debt of any kind.

Mike had just good old horse sense.  In this age we talk about people being "real."  I have never known anyone as real as my brother, Mike.  He said it like it was, he rarely pulled punches, I am certain he never tried to impress anyone, however, everyone who met him left impressed.  He was exceptionally intelligent, although his education after high school came informally.   After serving in Vietnam for 13 months, he tried to go to MTSU on the GI Bill, but the frivolity of college life after the horrors of war was something with which he could not deal.  So, he went to work; and work he did. 

Up until the last few years, Mike was a voracious reader, and he remembered what he read.  We would discuss authors or books, and I could not touch the hem of his garment when it came to remembering texts and facts.  Once when I was studying the U.S. Civil War in college, we started a discussion on the Battle of Gettysburg.  I hope I wasn't, but probably I was, feeling a bit superior as a college student discussing this topic with him.  Well, that was idiotic, because he knew more about the Battle of Gettysburg from reading a book or two than I would ever know from taking multiple college courses. 

He could tell great stories, often peppered with very colorful language.  His eyes twinkled as his face scrunched up when he laughed.  He was not afraid of a well-placed expletive, and they flowed somewhat freely when he discussed politics or when the weaker were being exploited by the stronger.  He was a champion of the underdog.  He had no time for those who claimed one thing and lived another. 

The smartest thing my brother ever did was marry his wife, Vickie.  I can, without reservation, say that she is one of the people I most admire in this life.  There has never lived a more servant-hearted woman.  She is the perfect example of "for better or worse, in sickness or health."  She waited on Mike hand and foot, and would not let anyone else take care of him.  The last time I was at their house, Mike was drinking a cup of coffee.  Not a word was spoken, no obvious gesture made, but at one point Vickie got up, took his cup, refilled it, brought it back to him, and he enjoyed his second cup of the day.   He cared for his family well.  He loved both his children and their children, but he did not smother them.  Mike believed in letting people live their own lives. 

He loved babies and children.  I have a message on my answering machine from him that he left last week.  "Mell, just want to thank you for bringing the boys by.  I really enjoy them.  I know you do too." 

 

 

Random Memories:

 

Athletic Prowess:

 

I once watched him pogo stick from the top of our street, a fairly steep hill, to the bottom and back up again.  Evil Knievel: Attempting to ride a bike over a mound of dirt in the attempt to jump over a pile of broken up concrete he misjudged.  The result was a broken collarbone, that he sincerely believed he could keep my parents from finding out about.  Luge:  In his attempt to ride a wagon down that steep hill, and using the mailbox at the last house as his brake, resulted in internal injuries and surgery.  Football:  His football coach once told him that he ran like "an elephant in galoshes."

 

 

Medical Degree:

 

Often, our neighbor, whom I consider my first best friend and other brother, Carl, was often the recipient of Mike's bonehead ideas.  Once Carl sat in some wet paint.  Probably, they had been told to stay away from the paint, but as was often the case, they did not comply.  Certainly, they did not want Carl's mother to know that he had sat in the paint, so Mike hit on a plan to hide the evidence.  He basically bathed Carl in turpentine.  Who knew that someone might possibly be allergic to turpentine?  Turns out Carl was.  Recently, I have introduced to the Carlie Jenner (?) lip challenge where people put a cup over their lips and suck on it to plump up their lips.  Carl could tell them to just bathe in turpentine.  I know I have never seen lips as swollen or a face more unrecognizable as Carl's after Mike's tender medical ministrations. 

 

Proud Parents' Nights:

 

I specifically remember two times when my mother returned from Parent Night at Mike's school  She was NOT happy.  The first was after another mom had come to her and asked, "are you Mike Williams' mother."  Mom smiled sweetly and proudly said she was, at which time the other mother went into a tirade on how Mike and some of his friends had egged her house.  Now, I am sure he had good reasons other than mischief and vandalism, but Mom was not open to hearing them at that particular time.  The other time I remember was when the teacher asked Mom if Mike had a job.  Mom replied, "why, no.  Why would you think that?"  The teacher said, "because he sleeps in my class!"  Again, Mom was NOT pleased. 

 

Jobs:

 

While Mike was in junior high, my brother Charlie was in high school.  I do not know what the party line was on how Mike was earning money, but my parents were so happy that he was so very enterprising in earning his own spending money.  Charlie, it seems, was more interested in school and school activities which left little time for a job.  I can only imagine his frustration when my daddy said to him that it would be a good thing if he started to earn a little money himself like Mike was doing.  I must applaud Charlie for not blurting out, "he is selling stolen hubcaps!!  He is stealing them, and then selling them!"  I will say this, that is probably the last dishonest thing Mike ever did. 

 

Car Wrecks:

 

Oh, there is just not enough time for this.  The Williams boys had lead feet.  We will leave it at that.

 

Church:

 

Mike sort of lost interest in organized religion after being kicked out of Sunday school one time too many.  Once when a Bible teacher regaled the class on how everything that happens is God's will, Mike questioned how that could possibly be so.  The teacher insisted, at which time, Mike asked, "was it God's will that your fingers got blown off?"  The teacher did not take it well, and so, kicked Mike out of class.  The other time I specifically remember was when the churches of Christ had a huge campaign going against dancing.  It was almost always an underlying theme, but during this specific time, it was the focus of our congregation.  In Sunday school, the teacher asked who was going to prom.  Probably, a lot of those in the class were, but Mike was the only one who held up his hand, at which time he assured the teacher that he was going to two proms, and with a Catholic girl!  He was asked to leave class again.  Is it any wonder that as he discussed his death and if there would be a service that he told Vickie, "I don't want no preacher man praying over me!"

 

 

There is so much more to say, but this has gone on a bit long.  While there will be no formal service for my brother, there will be Mike stories to tell at family gatherings as long as any of us who knew him live.  I will miss him, but I would not, if I could, have him return even for a moment to the suffering he experienced these past few weeks.  He suffered it with good humor and stoicism.  He was a man to be loved and admired.  He lived his life well.  He has earned his rest. I hope he is fishing on some celestial river bank chatting with Daddy and Charlie, breathing easily. 

 

For today, I wish you sweet memories, people to love, and I wish you

 

blessings