Michael has popped into my head at least 10 times today. And while I was laughing and shaking my head about a Michael story, I pulled up FB and saw <this> picture at the top of my feed. You can't ignore the signs when the timing is so right.
I was laughing to myself because I have three different life stories of when I used my wit for the sheer pleasure of it, even though I knew it would make someone stinking mad. The three times I remember best were this 1978 memory with Michael, in 2014 with Janie (chemo story), and in 2016 or 2017 with my Ex. All three stories will be told someday... but, going back to '78 with Michael because he seems to be begging to be talked about.
Mom, Janie, Michael, and I were in the living room of our home. The divorce was final that year, and we had moved back from the three long years of being cramped into a small two-bedroom. Mom, Janie, and I formed a special bond during that whole divorce ordeal. Michael wasn't with us then because he had spent those years serving in the Marine Corps.
Well, here Janie and I were living with two older brothers who both suffered from substance abuse issues, and John had some pretty nasty Vietnam PTSD. I wouldn't be able to talk about those times had they not all straightened out their acts and made me proud. Overcoming obstacles is a huge part of why I share my stories in the first place.
Anyway, Michael came downstairs from his bedroom looking pretty rough. He was so hungover you could see it from a mile away. Life has taught me that it is best to stay clear away from people when they're hurting like that. They're like time bombs.
All he wanted was silence, a Diet Coke with ice, and a Tommy’s pizza. The only thing he couldn't order was the silence because there was no silence to be had when Janie and I were in each other’s company. And when we were at home, in our element, we didn't use filters.
I didn't time my conversation for the moment the pizza arrived. It was a fluke that she and I were talking about how gross our brother John's drunken snoring was. I was cracking up laughing then, and cracking up laughing thinking about it now.
Michael must have been in the kitchen pouring his soda when we started on this subject, and at the exact moment that he took a seat and opened his extra cheese and pepperoni pizza from Tommy's, the very descriptive word for John's snoring came out of my mouth.
Phlegm.
I've seen my brother get to his "mad". I've seen all three brothers get to their "mad". But, for the life of me, I do not ever remember getting Michael as mad as he was at that moment. The look on his face alone made me want to pee my pants. He wanted to kill me. For real. And the fact that he couldn’t and wouldn't because I was his little sister just made it funnier to me. Janie and I were in stitches as we watched that pizza box get flung across the room, and we laughed even harder as he began to storm off to the upstairs.
Our laughter paused a bit when he punched a huge hole in the wall of the staircase, but it resumed because we were not the ones in trouble at the moment.
Mom was wise. She let him sleep that hangover off.
Ahh... fun for me to start sharing stories about Michael and Mary. I was his baby sister at the time this happened. I became his peer and friend shortly after. That's when our real stories begin.
I have never understood how so many of my girlfriends thought that train wreck of a guy was so attractive. He grew into his handsome self when he sobered up and made us all proud.