One Less Birthday
Today, June 2nd, is the birthday of Mike Walden. He would be 24 this year. Unfortunately, he is not here this time around to celebrate. In no way does a simple article do enough to pay respects to him on his first missed birthday, but it does serve to let even a small fraction of the world know that he is missed by many.
The best way I can think of to celebrate the birthday of my brother in his absence is to remember the time that he did spend with us. There are so many stories that I don’t even know where to start. My earliest memory of Mike is when he would get the easy chores for the weekend while Bill and I were stuck cleaning the bathrooms. He always seemed to be able to play the “baby of the family” card, and it served him well. The younger years are more of a blur than anything else.
Have you ever heard someone honk? There’s no better way to describe it. Mike used to be able to somehow exhale a gust of air with such force that he would literally honk. I can’t even imagine what it felt like but it sounded like a dying walrus. He used to honk at the Brewer games and anytime he needed to attract attention. As odd as it sounds, it was quite the talent that I’ve never seen anyone else even attempt.
Mike loved the idea of brewing beer and making his own wine. Over the last two or three years he always had a batch of either beer or wine going. The results were generally something that would put hair on your chest, and he couldn’t be more proud of his creation. In fact, the last time that Mike and I really spent together was a brewery tour of Sprecher Brewery in Milwaukee. We tried all kinds of different beers and concluded that the Black Bavarian was by far the tastiest.
On a regular basis, Mike would talk about moving to the middle of nowhere. He was looking for a cabin somewhere in Wisconsin or at least a plot of land where he could build his own. The idea was to live off the land and give up dealing with societal stupidity. Mike never did find himself a cabin or even a plot of land, but he was prepared.
Zombies were pretty much the only thing that he feared. I’ve never known anyone else to sleep with a 12 gauge shotgun for the sole purpose of protecting himself from a sudden zombie onslaught. At least to the rest of us, it started off as a joke but it was something that he regularly prepared for. He would call me over to see his latest addition to the zombie fighting arsenal. If zombies ever did attack, Mike is somebody I would be glad to know.
When people would ask me about my family, it was easy to describe, except for Mike. He never really fit any particular attitude or type of personality. I would tell people that he’s just as happy working in the forge as he is sitting on the porch playing his guitar in a flannel shirt. Over the last few years he didn’t play his guitar much, at least not around us. In fact, I don’t even know what happened to his collection of guitars. I assume that he sold them but I prefer to believe that he played through to the end. Music was right up there with brewing beer on his list of favorite activities. Oh, and that ridiculous station wagon that he drove into the ground. He was pretty damn proud of that hunk of junk too.
Mike often did what he could work on both Bill and I. He was quite proud of the fact that he towered over both of us, even being the baby of family. His cowboy boots did give him an additional unfair advantage, but we always let that slide. He never could grow a full beard but he made sure to point out whenever his goatee got full enough for us to notice. There wasn’t anything I can think of from his union job to his music to his homemade wine that he wasn’t obscenely proud of.
Every now and again Mike and I would sit down with a cigar and spend the better part of an hour doing absolutely nothing. While no words were exchanged, they were some of my favorite times with Mike. Those are the times that I miss the most.
For Mike, this world offered too little and he was ready to move on. I miss you, little brother.
In memory of Mike, comments are closed. Just say happy birthday to his memory.
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