I remember when Michael was still riding around in the “umbrella stroller” as we called it then; I cannot assign an accurate age to Michael, but I believe it was in the range of 18 months old. On one special day, Michael took a trip with me, his mom to Washington, D.C. to meet a man who had traveled from his country of Germany to visit Michael’s Dad. I was asked to meet this gentleman and show him around Washington. This was on a week day, so the other children were in school and Mike’s Dad was at work in Baltimore. The most interesting thing about this was that the man, whose name I cannot recall, didn’t speak a word of English. I didn’t speak the German language. Somehow we were able to communicate and take several tours of the Capitol and surrounding museums. Michael was so easy going, that he just rode around and took in all of the sights, stopping with us only to eat some snacks and fruits. Looking back at all of this, I am indeed amazed that I drove to Washington, D.C. by myself, accompanied only by a toddler and arrived safely and not lost. Amazing! The gentleman’s only conversation with me happened at the end of our visit, when I shook his hand and he patted Michael on the head and said, “He looks just like you!” Now, did he speak English and hide that fact from us, or did he practice a few idioms and rehearsed a phrase or two? I will never know the answer, but I will always remember that compliment as this small toddler was a beautiful child.

 

While I am revisiting the Baltimore experience, I must include the neighbors, Jackie and Tom. They lived two houses down the street on Jacinth Way. Tom owned a company that provided backhoes and “dirt diggers”to customers. He had the charming habit of driving these huge trucks home and parking one or two of them in the cult-e-sac on the street where we lived. Very often in the early evenings, Tom would knock at our door and ask if Michael would like to drive the “dirt digger” as he called them. That was Michael’s name for the backhoe. Much to Tom’s delight, we always said “yes” and the fun began. At this time, Michael was about four years old. He would run down the sidewalk, and with Tom’s help, he would climb up upon that big yellow piece of equipment and get ready to drive. This was not a pretend ride, Tom always started up the engine with Michael on his lap. They never rode anywhere, but the loud noise was worth everything it took to imagine what it would really be like to drive one of those trucks! (and thinking back on this, I recall that Mike was the only child in the family who wasn’t the least bit interested in driving when he turned 16 years old!) I can still see the grin on Michael’s face as he slid his hands around on the steering wheel of the equipment. What was the bigger object, the ton of yellow equipment or the contained prize of borrowing a son, as Tom and Jackie could never conceive a child of their own? I believe the four-year-old boy was indeed the prize!!

 

Now memory takes me to Bowden, Georgia, where Michael’s Dad took us for endless adventures and colossal memory making. Every morning I would walk the boys over to the corner barber shop to wait for the school bus. We only lived ¼ mile away from the primary school, which was Michael’s second attempt at Kindergarten. He began his first stint at the Kindergarten scene in Baltimore, Maryland, and that was interrupted by our move to Georgia. One afternoon I walked over to the school to meet with Michael’s Kindergarten teacher for the first conference. Everyone did this, I was nervous as I was new in town. I don’t remember the teacher’s name, but I do remember her pretty face and dark hair. I will always remember what she said to me when she reviewed Michael’s achievements early on in his academic career (that would be six months worth of kindergarten, once removed). She said that when she greeted Michael for the first time (he began school there later as our move happened in in September after classes began for the other students), she held him on her lap, and talked with him. She said to me, “Michael is so well-adjusted, I know that all of his needs were met as he was growing up.” Some things drift in and out of a mother’s heart, but to be told that the parenting is coming along successfully means so much and embeds itself in the heart forever. In 17 long months, we moved again and arrived in Knoxville, Tennessee, where Michael began his third attempt at Kindergarten. Once again, his teacher shared her amazement at his composure and warmth expressed to others. He was fortunate to have a teacher from New York and she saw in Michael something of great treasure. She at once put him to the task of becoming the artist that he is today. If only I could remember her name. I bet Michael can. Art supplies began appearing everywhere, so much a part of our home life with markers and desks and tables with chalk and paints and pencils and scissors and construction paper. Thank you, teacher with forgotten name. Isn’t that always the way!

 

And then there is the story from St. John Neumann Church. During every month of May, a child is selected to place the crown of flowers on the head of the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I was fortunate to teach Michael’s CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine) classes for Grades 1-8. This made perfect sense to me as I could follow Michael’s progress along and keep in touch with all of his friends’ parents for ongoing years. In the year of 1991, when Michael was 10 years old, he was selected for this honor. The criteria were kindness to others, good study habits, prayerfulness and probably popularity. (just kidding). I’m pretty sure Michael was not interested in popularity. At any rate the reason I am mentioning this little tidbit of history, is that Michael did make history on that day. He was the only male child ever selected to perform this honorable act of devotion to the Blessed Mother Mary. He was too short to reach the top of the statue’s head, so the Director of Religious Education, brought in a ladder and Michael climbed upon it and placed the beautiful wreath of flowers upon the statue of Blessed Mother. Enough said about that!

 

In an effort to complete my rendition of stories of Michael, I will share one more memory. I think that for every birthday that Michael celebrated until he was old enough to drive, he always received a gift of transportation. Michael’s grandparents, Mamma and Pappa always bought things with wheels for Michael. Tricycles, Big Wheels (you will remember those plastic riding machines with “big wheels” that were larger than the actual riding apparatus), five-speed bicycles, scooters, skateboards. Always on the go, Michael seemed to enjoy the motorized cars and tractors the most. A boy in motion, that was Michael. Now that really fits his profile as he has traveled the world in his grown up years, and navigates daily by means of his own powerful muscles driving a bike for the ride of his life. His grandparents knew something I didn’t know yet. Michael is a Trailblazer. Happy Birthday, Mike!

 

Love, Mom

 

You knew this was coming…more stories.  Well I just couldn’t resist telling the story of how Michael managed to avoid cutting grass as such a task would invariably end in sneezing episodes as Michael was extremely allergic to pollen, grass,mold and seemingly the entire universe!  When Michael was in his pre-teen years, when not much was happening around the neighborhood, there loomed the weekly chore of grass cutting.  Now, we all took a turn at it, and when the the task rolled around to Michael’s turn, he could be found luxuriously lounging in the bonus room playing video games and such, where he also devised a way to cut the grass while lounging.  I would usually announce the order to begin mowing, and then leave for grocery shopping.  I just knew that the job would be completed when I returned home. And it always was.  I was so smart not to endure the complaints and witness the sneezing fits and all, I was convinced that by passively leaving the home front, Michael would acquiesce.  The yard was manicured to perfection, when I returned home each and every time.  Little did I know (but everyone else did) that Michael hired our neighbor and his friend, Jason to do the mowing for him.  What a deal….$20 dollars and a grin and all was well! Are we surprised?!

I will surely leave you with one more memory.  What would a booklet of stories be without the entry of a tall young man standing at the Magee Tyson airport in Knoxville, Tennessee with a back pack that was as tall as he was, strapped to his back filled with everything a human could need for two years?  I will forever remember the smile on his face when he turned to look around at his family who bid him farewell as he left for the continent of Africa to “give back to the world”  for the many gifts he had received from it. Hello Peace Corps.  He announced this mission to me one sunny afternoon at a local restaurant when he asked me out to lunch on his 22nd birthday.  Now there’s a gift!  He left his mark on that continent in the form of art work, technology and language arts.  It was there that he met his soul mate soon to become his wife and mother of his child.  His bravery and determination remind me that it was indeed a remarkable day on August 3, 1981 at 11:00 a.m. in the city of Cincinnati, Ohio, when an 8 lb. 3 oz boy arrived to shake things up a little…and he surely did!

Until later….

Happy Birthday, Mike!