Michael was my first youngest brother. Born in 1952, he was his own kind of person, always doing things his way. He lived his life to the fullest, doing things other people only thought of doing. While you were looking through a magazine, daydreaming about a trip to a certain place, he was already there enjoying it. He would usually make one trip a year, ranging from a cruise out of Florida, to a trip to Alaska to see the midnight sun.
We had our share of dogs and cats as household pets during our childhood. Mike's idea of a pet had to be exotic. This meant seeing him come in with a monkey one day. I was in the service at the time, but I heard he didn't last long. I still laugh when I hear things that monkey liked to do. When Mike was discharged from the Coast Guard he moved into his own place. This is when he found Honcho, a pretty good sized parrot, green in color. In no time, Honcho and Mike became friends. He would repeatedly try to teach Honcho to speak, even as far as using records as aids. Before long, Honcho was shortened to Honch. She never picked up too many words but the one main thing she picked up was Mike's name. She would call him whenever she wanted attention. Honch would even draw out the I and the L in Mike's name, drawing his name into a long and echoing "Michael."
Mike and Honch became inseparable. Whenever Mike had to be away for awhile, someone had to babysit Honch either at their house or pay visits to Mike's house to feed her and clean her cage. During these times you would hear Honch forever calling "Michael." When he returned and walked in the door her calls of Michael would get louder as she swayed from foot to foot on her perch. The bond between them grew deeper as time went by. Finding Honch perched on Mike's shoulder as he made coffee was a common sight. They even had their arguments so it seemed. I walked in his place one day and heard Mike say, "I'm not talking to you today Honch. You've been bad lately." I laughed seeing Honch sitting on top her cage looking at him with her head on an angle. The expression on Honch made me start to think she really understood what Mike was saying. The ultimate was hearing Mike ask her for a kiss and then watching him get one.
It wasn't too long after that when Mike took sick. He had a couple stays in the hospital, each time Honch was being cared for and as usual she'd call him and would be excited when he returned. Mike was admitted the last time with a cerebral hemorrage in July, 1991. He lapsed into a coma immediately. Although the surgeon gave him a very slim chance of recovery, we decided he should operate one time to try to relieve the pressure. He was strong all his life and was strong when he came out of the operation but he wasn't strong enough to come through this. My youngest brother and I spent the next night at the hospital while my mother, sisters and Mike's fiance went home. Near sunrise the next morning the head nurse escorted us to his room. She told us his time was just about here and it shouldn't be too long. Watching his monitor, we had enough time to lay a hand on him as Joe and I prayed The Lord's Prayer. As we finished, he was gone.
Two days later we were in a limo enroute from the Church to the cemetary for his burial. The route is usually planned to pass one last time past the deceased's house. Mike lived a distance from the cemetary so we planned the trip past my mother's house instead. As usual the hearse and limo stop for a couple minutes in front of the house. As we turned the corner and stopped in front of her house, everyone looked up shocked at the sight before us. Dozens of birds of different varieties were perched on my mother's front porch, on the rails and along the chain link fence in front of the house, all chirping. From my mother's living room you could hear Honch's voice the loudest and above all the others. Someone in the car said she was crying, another said she knew Mike was here. That alone was astounding but the sight of all the birds responding to her calls was beyond imagination. Returning to the house after the burial and dinner, the front of the house was bare, like what we saw never happened. Inside we found Honch sitting on her perch.
We decided to leave Honch in the care of a couple of close friends of Mike and the family. They already were quite familiar with her and knew how to care for her properly. I haven't seen her since but each time I ask about her I have been told she is doing well. I spoke with them recently, inquiring about Honch and found out a few interesting things since this happened. First surprise was that Honch is a female and not male. They calculated her presently to be eighteen years old, and is in true form, even learning new words. On occasion she will overhear conversations mentioning Mike and suddenly begins to call him again for a spell, then stopping until she hears his name again. I was told two other interesting things that sometimes happens. For no reason at all she will suddenly ask "Where's Michael?" repeatedly. She also on occasion will start to move around her cage saying "Michael's here!" over and over. Those three instances are the only times she calls him by name.
I don't think anyone in our immediate family has seen Honch since Mike's passing. I guess we all have our reasons why we haven't. I do know we all have our memories of the time we had Mike with us and like myself, would rather leave them as they are. It's hard to explain why but sometimes there are things that don't need explaining in order to understand. I think this is one of them.
