Alan's Blog...It's all Gesamtkunstwerk to me!

Thoughts from nearly 40 years on the professional stage


Thoughts at the passing of my brother, Michael, who moved on a week ago, July 11, 2017...


I’ve had a lot to think about during these last weeks, since just after Easter Sunday, when Mike received his diagnosis of a horrible and aggressive form of cancer. The battle was fierce but short. Mike was always so strong. It was painful to see a man of such strength hit so very hard.

His Strength….Going back to the days of our youth, Mike was incredibly strong. I may have been much taller, but he was still able to pin me with his knees holding my shoulders down…and then threaten to drool on my face. He'd then get up to continue to throw strike after strike when we'd play catch in our backyard. And, to be honest, most times I probably deserved the pinning and drooling. I loved those times.

He taught me how to load caps into a cap gun and how to attach baseball cards to the spokes of my bicycle to make that wonderful sound when the wheels went around. He taught me so many things...important things...and things that weren't.

We had many adventures together as children. It is a wonder that we didn't spend more time in hospitals and doctor's offices. There was the time when I swung too high on the swing set and the entire contraption tipped and fell over on his head. Not wanting to witness his agony, I just went inside...and hoped I wouldn't get in trouble. I knew I’d get clobbered for it later. Perhaps his "revenge" came a few years later when he threw a lawn dart that hit me in the head (luckily, I have a very hard cranium and the "Jart" bounced off). It was an accidental toss……I think.

We were so very different in so many ways...but yet, very much alike as well. For a long time, we shared a bedroom...and for several years, even the same large bed. He'd complain that the hairs on my legs were too prickly. He'd STRONGLY admonish me to stay on my own half of the bed. I think, to this day, that my HALF of the bed was much smaller than HIS HALF. We'd lay awake at night talking about all kinds of things, listening to ball games, or music from Chicago's powerhouse radio station, WLS----890 on your radio dial.

Years later, and when we finally had separate beds, he drove me nuts at night when he'd put on Dolly Parton records or Elton John. Tommy James and the Shondells were another favorite of his. How many times can you listen to "Mony, Mony", “My Baby does the Hanky Panky”, or”Crimson and Clover" ---over and over? How many times can you listen to Elton's "Crocodile Rock”? Jim Croce's "Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown”? Or even Dolly's "I'll always Love You"? But, last year, when I was working at an opera company on the east coast, Dolly came to give a concert on one of my off nights...and I made sure I was able to see her...and the memories of laying in the same bedroom and hearing Dolly singing on the record player were there.

I learned to drive a stick shift on one of Michael's first trucks. He didn't know it, thankfully. He was asleep after working a night buddy Scott Ireland and I "borrowed" his keys and took it out for a spin. Scott gave me directions on how to push the clutch and shift the gears---or did I shift the clutch and push the gears---they sure did make a lot of noise...but, thankfully, the transmission didn't get left scattered all over the road to Wilbern. Scott and I got the truck back in one piece...none worse for the wear (I hope)...and, even better, without Mike knowing. I just didn't want to get pinned down again or drooled on. I never told Mike that we did this...I knew life was much safer that way.

Mike would come to my concerts when I would sing nearby---I know he never really liked the music--nor did I ever believe that he'd become an opera fan...but he liked when I sang "New York, New York", "My Way" or country songs. He even took a crack at singing some of those songs on a karaoke night at a few favored establishments.

He read a lot and he knew something about a lot of things…just enough to keep it all interesting. And you know, that's a pretty neat thing. He preferred crime shows and Tom Clancy books and movies. And he could discuss and argue the news, politics, and anything else with the best of them. I liked that.

Just like Janet and me, he took piano lessons. He actually played pretty well for many years. The last time he visited us in Pennsylvania a few years back, he could still plunk out songs he'd learned nearly a half century ago--- "The Theme from Love Story" and "Blue Boogie". But, back in the day, after school, I would race home from the bus stop to beat him to the piano so that I could then go out and play earlier. Piano practice had to come before play in our house. Mike was more easy going and methodical--and got the job done. I respected him for that---on this, and on so many things.

Mike and I had a special whistle---only he and I knew and shared it. When we were looking for the other, and only the other, we'd pucker up and blow our special sound. We held onto that. In April, when I saw him after his diagnosis, I mentioned it to him...he knew exactly what I was talking about...but, trying to blow out the sound was a bit tougher that day...too much emotion was being shared instead.

He enjoyed playing clarinet and bass clarinet and being in the band in high school...playing for shows or marching in a parade.

He had an even louder voice than mine. OH, if he only had studied singing.
AFTER he graduated high school, he came back to play in the orchestra for our production of “Bye, Bye, Birdie”—just because Jack Schepper needed him...and Mike was always there when somebody needed him.

I can remember, however, the smile he brought to my face the night we sat at a table and he asked in a sort of strange tone, "Is all Opera in Latin???

Just so you know, I've never sung an opera in Latin in my life.

I remember a wonderful day in August of 1973. Mom and Dad left that day to take Janet to college in Springfield and left Mike and me home alone. We did a little fishing that day, a little swimming...and then, that evening, we decided to go see a movie. Now, you'd think that Mike would want to see a good western or something with a lot of action. What did we go his suggestion? We went to the movie theater in Eureka to see---"The Sound of Music". Mike really enjoyed musicals. It's one of my favorite memories of my one on one times with my brother.

He liked to bowl.

He Loved playing pool and ping pong---we would play for HOURS---every moment that we could when the table was up in the house and Mom wasn't using it for sewing. Several times, we were almost late for school because of Ping Pong. We’d then go right back at it when we'd get home. I'm glad we got to play a game or two in our home a few years back.

How he loved His friends---Mel, Steve, Stan, and all the hunting and fishing buddies.
How he loved being with them and their families at Chetek or elsewhere.

I remember the sad but strong look he had on his face the morning he sat and held my Dad's hand just after he passed away 15 years ago---and seeing how his face would melt into pride when talking about Denise, Jarred or Jenni.

I remember the conversation I had with him on the phone in May when he partially broke down while expressing his thoughts about whether he'd make it to see Baby Krue, his newest grandchild---and he made it---and loves this baby--and how much he loves Peyton, Wyatt, and Waylon. It has been a gift to him to have them so close in these past weeks.

I remember him--
Traveling to take Mom and be with her in Cleveland when she had a heart procedure in 2004---I was fortunate to be in the city at the exact same time and enjoyed our time together just talking as the procedure successfully went on.

And again he escorted Mom to be with us in Pennsylvania when our oldest son got married 3.5 years ago. We were so happy that he could join us. Although my kids didn't get to spend all that much time with Uncle Mike, they always enjoyed those moments.

I remember him---
Loving his high school sweetheart Denise. I can remember double dating with them back in High School. The night of their wedding in September, 1979, was one of the happiest weddings I've ever attended---everyone knew that they just had to be was right.

They grew and gave birth to a family--Two great children in Jarred and Jenni. They faced tough times on many fronts. Mike didn't stop pushing hard to get through them...different jobs, disappointments, strikes, layoffs, but he stayed dedicated--and loyal--to the union and to his company that often frustrated him.

Mike was loyal in all his family, his job, and to, unfortunately, the Packers....and Cubs. I loved going around and around with him over these two flaws. To this day, I'm ALMOST happy the Cubs won the last World Series---just for him.

I remember, as well, when Denise and Mike visited us in Connecticut in 1994...we celebrated Jarred's 10th birthday on the trip. On that day, I took Mike, Denise, Jarred, Jenni, and our oldest son to New York City for the day---to ride the boat around Manhattan and show them where I so often worked. It was an incredibly bright and wonderful day as we visited the Empire State Building as well. Mike enjoyed that...Denise HATED New York traffic and east coast driving...and more than once, I think the car felt Mike's foot go through the floorboard as he sat in the passenger seat---but wishing he was in control of the car.

Mike wouldn't have handled living in a city...he lived just where he belonged all his life...and I'm grateful for that. He was a true Central Illinoisian...he knew ever creek and hollow between Wenona and Morton...knew where the mushrooms were, where the fish bit most abundantly, and where deer hid just awaiting those two weekends in late Fall...those weekends, spent with the hunting crew...they were NOT to be missed.

And, looking back, I've rarely been more happy than when we got to start together on the high school varsity basketball team.

Mike---was one of those guys who could make something happen just out of pure will---of diligence and being hard headed. He was a pretty STUBBORN guy. He wasn't the tallest basketball player by any stretch of the imagination--but, he was disciplined...year after year he was the best free throw shooter. He was also always one of the leading rebounders. He was TOUGH on the floor...just ask the kid from Gridley who is still probably hurting from the "charging call" he drew against Mike. Mike got kicked out of the game for that one...but I'm sure the Gridley guard would tell you, to this day, that Mike got the better end of the deal.

In junior high, he was a very fine discus thrower, advancing to the Regional Finals. In his freshman year of high school, he placed third in the conference golf meet--such a surprise to us all...and he'd never had a lesson. After he did so well, he started taking lessons...and he would have told you that he never played as well as he did before somebody told him how to play. He was that way. He could figure things out. He enjoyed golfing in the area golf leagues, and enjoyed bowling on teams as well.

He built and raced a car and could build things out of wood that were absolutely beautiful. He remodeled his basement into a great "man cave" and helped others on their farms and in their homes. He could shoot deer, turn it into sausage, and save the best pieces for later...he could fish with the best of them. And, he could cook all of his catch...and well. The freezer was always stocked with what he shot or caught...I admired that.

This wretched cancer was fast and aggressive. It wasn't something the doctors or any of us could quite "figure out". Yes, it was cruel...but, during these days, we saw the blessings that Mike gave us all. I saw a very loving family and a great group of lifelong friends lift each other up in support...

Mel, Steve, Stan (your families) and the rest of his great friends, thank you for your visits and expressions of support and care. I remember your days together with Mike from your youth....they were a HUGE part of who he was.

Krystin...thank you for the care you helped provide and the support you continue to give to Jarred, Mike's cherished son, and to your children and Mike's grandchildren.

Jarred, I know how desperately you wanted to get off the USS Carl Vinson to just be with your Dad during these weeks...I praise God for your service to our country...but far more for you service and love to your Dad and to your family.

Jenni, our conversations in person or via text show your admiration and love of your he loved you and wanted always what was best for his little girl. The pictures I have of you with Mike at Lambeau Field when he finally got to visit the Frozen Mecca for Football fans are some of my favorites--and you can see, by the look on his face, that they were some of his favorites moments of life as well. I'm so happy that he got to meet little Krue...and I know how much this means to you as well. Thank you, as well, Eric, for all your help to Mike---and to Jenni.

Mom and heart breaks for us all as we lost such a devoted son and brother---a rock--a steady force and strong spirit whom we loved so dearly.

And that goes for his entire large, extended family. He enjoyed spending time with his relatives---Aunts, Uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, sisters and brothers in laws---such a wonderful family---all reaching out to show so much support in these weeks. Thank you for all of that.

And Denise---seeing you lie on the bed last week, just rubbing Mike's arm...being there...loving him...loving your all too short time...he knew just how important your lives were together...your very special bond...he felt and knew your love. That love was established over 40 years ago...was noticed by all who would see the two of you together. I was happy to see your love grow then...and to see it fast and solid to this day. He was greatly blessed because of this....thank you for all that you have always been to Mike...and to us all. As Dolly said, he (and all of us) will always love you.

May our most gracious, loving, and merciful God be with you-and all of us-now and forever. And may Mike, who was so strong, be lifted into God's even stronger, loving arms, to be at peace and and forever.