Nesquik banks

I don't have any markers in my memory to place a date on this one. Maybe one of my siblings or Mom will remember. One holiday season, Dad decided to decorate old Nesquik cocoa tins with construction paper and make them into coin banks. Each night or few nights, he would put loose change in them after we went to bed. Hearing him drop coins in them as I drifted off did a lot to heighten my anticipation for Christmas morning. I think he did that just one year. It was neat and it's one of my favorite holiday season memories.

My anniversary

Today it has been 10 years since Phil and I got married. It's been a tough day because my memories of that day are full of Dad. Great memories, but still hard to remember. So today, we decided not to make a big deal of the day with a big celebration. We all went out to lunch and then for ice cream, then spent the afternoon watching the movie, Heidi. Ugh, it's such a tearjerker and about a grandfather and granddaughter, as you know. I'm not sure it was the best choice for today. Phil and the girls are going out to get a pizza so I don't have to cook.

One of Phil's favorite memories from our wedding involves Dad. Mom and Dad had left the veil in their car the morning of the wedding (Colleen had made it for me). Mom was with me at the church getting ready but Dad was somewhere else and he had the car keys! So off Phil went find Dad. Well, apparently he passed him in the lobby 3 or 4 times before he noticed Dad, who was reading the newspaper. Dad had noticed Phil but hadn't thought anything of it. It made for a good laugh, though I think I'm not telling the story well.

Ah well. I'm glad that Dad had such a good time. It was a great day/weekend and it makes me so happy to know that my Dad was over the moon happy for me.

Dear Dad

I told you last time I saw you that Phil and I were struggling with the thought of losing our parents. Something about Phil reaching 50 made us take notice and realize that that day would come seemingly in a blink of an eye. I wondered what life would be like without you. Well, now I know. I'm wishing you were here to watch me continue to try to make sense of this life and to encourage me to find joy where I can. I'm sad today, wanting. "It's good to want," you would say. You are gone. You were an anchor and now I'm adrift. How do I enjoy that?

Just Not The Same

Of course not. Dad's not here.

When I cheer or boo at football games on TV, I learned that from Dad.

I'm seeking strength in my life now, and wonder if Dad may have been able to help. I hesitate to seek help from anyone thinking, "I can do this" - and this time is especially hard. I'm questioning everything and hoping for motivation somewhere.

I know full well that motivation will come from me. I do like to pin it on an Event, though. Oh where are you? I am summoning you. Better days ahead, I am sure.

Guitar-playing Dad

I don't know when Dad learned to play the guitar but I would guess in the early 70s. He used to play it and sing songs to us when Eric and I were small, probably stopping by the time we were in 3rd or 4th grade. I've been singing some of the same songs to my kids since they were born. Songs like: I've Been Working on the Railroad, She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes, Billy Boy, Skip to My Lou and Clementine.  I recently dug out my Disney song book and revisited a few more that I remember him singing. I just sang two of our childhood favorites to Jane: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf and Winnie The Pooh. I remember loving that song book and singing over and over songs like I've Got No Strings, Bibidi-bobidi-boo, and Heigh-Ho. Eric and I also used to love singing Popeye the Sailor Man and What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor with Dad.

A Note from a Navy Colleague

This was posted on the funeral home's guest book on July 25th by Duke Chenoweth:

Five minutes ago I happened to spy an overlooked email from a Mike Bird dated 5/25/12, wondering if I was the same person he knew from his Navy days on the USS Washtenaw County (LST-1166). I was excited to hear from Mike after nearly 50 years! Before replying I clicked on his blog to learn more about his life in the interim...

My deepest sympathies to Mike's wife, children and extended family. I remember Mike very well as an intelligent and caring person with a great sense of humor. Mike was always positive and was a role model to many of his shipmates. Again, my heart-felt condolences to you all on the sudden and shocking loss of your husband and father - He was a very good man.

Danielle and Math

I took all the college-prep math classes in high school. I had the advantage of having a father who wanted to help when I got stumped on a problem. (I think this fact is one thing I probably took for granted like so many other unusual, amazing gifts of my childhood.) The problems that were especially difficult kept Dad up late but he almost always was able to show me how he solved them in the morning. I remember as a senior taking Senior Math, kind of a pre-calculus class. It was during that course that Dad told me that I'd reached a type and level of math that was beyond him. I remember how proud I was. I always admired my Dad's intellect and was in awe of his abilities. I wasn't proud that I had somehow "beaten" Dad. I was proud because not only could I manage the math in that course, I could manage it alone, without a bit of help from Dad. For once, I was proud of my accomplishment. (It has always been a lot easier for me to be self-critical.) As a parent of three now, I can imagine that Dad was proud too.

A Note from Amy Smith Money

8.4.12

Dear Diane,

    

 It was good to see you last week, even given the grim circumstances. I will forever regret not speaking at the remembrance. I could not hold back the tears every time I thought of standing up. I did want to reach out to you to share what I wasn't able to speak.

     

As a little girl I remember hiking back to the Lost River to fish with my father and sister. Dad had obtained permission for us to fish on your property. He waved and exchanged pleasantries with Mike as we passed by the house. The next several minutes were my dad marveling over "The Bird Place". He was impressed by the garden and orchard, the neatly kept animals, and most of all the home built by hand with native timber. It wasn't until I was an adult that I understood why my dad was so amazed that day.

     
I came to know and appreciate "The Bird Place" while I lived there. I understand the hard work it took to transform wilderness into a homestead, and also the careful planning, attention to detail, devotion and love that made the homestead a success.
    
 I always enjoyed talking with you and Mike (especially some of those flying squirrel stories!!). I always learned something from those exchanges also; you gave me things to ponder on.
      
The Celebration of Life for Mike was such a nice service. I heard many words used to describe him: intelligent, funny, sensitive, liberal, hard-working, competitive, generous, challenging, extra-terrestrial, etc. All are accurate; however, the guy I knew couldn't be summed up by any amount of adjectives. I think he was one-of-a-kind.  I am grateful to have been acquainted with Mike, and yourself as well.
     
I am so sorry for your loss. Until our paths cross again, be well.
                                                          
                                                                                                                  Sincerely, Amy

Music Dad Liked

Mom went through her and Dad's music and picked some songs that she knew Dad liked. I compiled them on a CD for the Celebration of Life. It was playing as people arrived. Here's the list:

1. ABBA: I Have a Dream
2. Lesley Gore: It's My Party
3. James Taylor: You've Got a Friend
4. John Lennon: Give Peace a Chance
5. Moody Blues: Tuesday Afternoon
6. Patsy Cline: Crazy
7. Tanya Tucker: Half the Moon
8. Moody Blues: Nights in White Satin
9. Simon & Garfunkel: The Sound of Silence
10. Simon & Garfunkel: Bridge Over Troubled Water
11. ABBA: Voulez-vous
12. The Teddy Bears: To Know Him Is to Love Him
13. The Beatles: When I'm 64
14. Everly Brothers: Wake Up Little Suzy
15. Righteous Brothers: Soul and Heart's Inspiration
16. Ruby & the Romantics: Our Day Will Come
17. The Crystals: Uptown
18. Paul Anka: Diana
19. Frank Sinatra: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
20. Everly Brothers: All I Have To Do Is Dream
21. The Drifters: Save the Last Dance for Me

I remember Dad listening to these when I was a kid: Beethoven's Symphonies, Moody Blues, Simon & Garfunkel, Man of La Mancha soundtrack, Neil Diamond, the Carpenters, the Oakridge Boys, Kenny Rogers. What other music did he like?

What Laura Said at the Celebration

Read by Marty Bird

To everyone here who has gathered to celebrate the life of Michael Bird, may we carry a memory in our heart for the beautiful life he lived, for the happiness he brought to those around him and for the love he gave to his family and friends. He was a very special person who may be gone from this earth but he will live on forever in our hearts. We love you Mike Bird. Here is a poem Laura found for Dad:

You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what he'd want:

Smile, Open Your Eyes, Love, Laugh, and Go On.

Grape Nuts

Eating my yogurt, blueberries and GoLean Crunch this morning made me think of Dad and GrapeNut cereal. Dad discovered it in the 80s (when it first came out?). We didn't buy a lot of different kinds of cold cereal (when Miki and Marty were home, none at all that I remember and when Eric and I were in high school--Wheaties, maybe Rice Crispies, sometimes Cheerios). GrapeNuts was pricey. So what did Dad do? He figured out how to make them himself....a crunchier version that only he would eat but they tasted very much like the real deal. He made a yummy noise that I'll never forget.

Book Learning

Anything we need to know, we can learn it from a book. Reading, careful study, a little practice, and we’re throwing knives expertly, overhauling engines, speaking Esperanto like natives.
― Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever: A True Love Story

I think my dad believed this wholeheartedly and passed this belief on to us. Maybe that's naive but why would I believe anything else with Dad as a model? He learned so much from books--how to build a house, how to garden, build terraces, cook, work on our cars, raise and butcher animals for food, and on and on (living like a pioneer maybe mostly from the Foxfire series). It's too bad that we lived in an area where there wasn't a good library and the Internet wasn't around yet. I've long believed that if you know how to read, you can do anything if you want it badly enough and are willing to work. Thanks, Dad.

What have you learned how to do from a book?

The Red Crayon

Leah and her mother, Danielle, stood together at the Celebration of Life to tell a story about Opa. Leah and her older sister, Naomi, like this memory very much. (Click on the image to enlarge it.)

We sang together

It was so wonderful to sing together! This is kinda how it went while I was at the podium at Dad's Celebration of Life (I've lost the notes I had with me at the time):

Hi, I'm Miki. Can everyone hear me?

Because Dad was a little corny, and because he'd nudge you and say "Pshaw!" to help you get past your embarrassment, guess what we're going to do together? [Here, several people said, "Pshaw!" which was great.] We're going to sing! [Chris Rigaux: "You don't know our family." In response, I said:] Off-key, just like Dad.

But first, I want to tell you of a small action that Dad did many times. The day would be rainy or overcast or somehow or other the weather would just not be very uplifting. Dad would put on his hat and whatever other outdoor gear was called for, and then he'd head out, saying he was going to find the switch to turn the sun back on. And guess what? He almost always did!

I woke up this past Thursday with a song running through my head, and that's what we're going to sing together. Actually, just the refrain a couple of times. Johnny Cash and many others have sung this song, so I'll bet you know it. It starts off, "You are my sunshine." And if you need to, give your neighbor a little nudge, and say, "Pshaw!"

[I asked my niece Naomi to join me at the podium to help me sing and she did and was a great comfort to me. Kevin then got us started off singing on the right key.]

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are grey
You'll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

One more time.

[And we sang it again and the room was full to overflowing and it was really wonderful and then we applauded each other!]

What I said at Mike's Celebration of Life

As you all know, Mike was an extraordinary person. Never just "ordinary", he was EXTRAORDINARY. Sometimes I wondered if he was actually "extraterrestrial".  He was born under the sign of Gemini, and I was never sure which Gemini twin was going to be around today. He loved adventures, and never realized that he was an adventure himself.

There were many sides to Mike. Like the blind man and the elephant, each person who knew him never really knew ALL of him. Not that he was mysterious; he was open with everyone, but they didn't know that his habit was to give each person what he sensed they needed - whether it was comfort or confidence or a new challenge. He enjoyed and sought out all sorts of people.

I knew the Mike who was sensitive and introspective, spiritual and even religious in his own way - and he was a loner. That's hard for some of you to understand because he was also such a "glad-hand-Charlie", happy and funny and delightful, a good friend, a buddy, an interesting and enjoyable guy.

I have a funny story to tell you about how innocent Mike could be. You may know that we went on a cruise last December ... We never even dreamed we would EVER go on a cruise, but we had such a great time! Anyway, we were in port somewhere in Mexico and he went out to get some pictures. (imagine that!) I cautioned him to be really careful because the cruise information mentioned that it was smart not to go too far away from the tourist area. Well, of course he DID because he had unlimited trust in people and had no fear or sense of caution. When he was ready to go back to the ship, he asked some lady how to get there and she gave him directions and said that he should go exactly that way and not go beyond a certain point. So, off he went and next thing he knew she was pulling his sleeve and telling him to turn right and go across the bridge, NOT go further down that particular street because he would not be safe. He called her his guardian angel. I think he must have been assigned several of those when he was born.

There was also an old man in Mexico who adopted Mike and guided him around one of the ports of call.  I had told Mike to be less obvious taking pictures or he might get his camera stolen, or he could be arrested or beaten up for taking pictures of someone's girlfriend. I figured this old man was looking for a large tip from this innocent tourist, and of course that's what he got... a large tip... along with being charmed by this American.

Just as Mike's personality had many sides (the quiet side, the outgoing side, the innocent side), his life had many phases, with just one constant - his family - both his immediate family and his extended family - and also his golf family. He loved meeting new people and all of his life he sought new ideas and was a constant reader with a wide range of interests. He thought that every new thing that came along was serendipity.

When I first met Mike, I was enchanted. After being married almost 50 years, I am still in awe of him. I am glad that I got to accompany him through all those "interesting" years. We had a good time.

What Chadd Taylor Wrote

Dear Dani,
Okay, Danielle. :-) But when you first came to us in Lost River, you were definitely Dani, and of course, it's hard for me to alter in my mind the imprint you and your family made on me the first time I met you, including your name.
We were about 6 or 7 years old. It was 1975, and school had not started for the year. I was outside playing on a hot day, as your dad spotted me while he was driving down Windom Road, from the definitive "boonies" of Rusk. (I can't imagine how you try to paint a picture of that for folks in Kirkland, Washington). He got out of the beater car, and walked up to the house, pony tail trailing. Rumor in those parts that this outsider from California must be
a drug dealer. He told my folks that he had a daughter who was about my age, and asked if it would be okay for me to spend the day with her and the family at their home down the road. Sometime later, Mike and the crew of kids pulled into the driveway, and I joined the pile. I distinctly remember a hole in the floorboard in the back, where we could look through and see the road streaming by, not even an armlength's away. I didn't know what a drug dealer was at the time, but I sure thought this was pretty cool already.
After picking up some supplies in Shoals, we headed back south, far down on Rusk Road, across Lost River, and onto a gravel road, which I understood to be the driveway, but it seemed like it went on for a mile. At the end were two houses. To the north, a traditional, midwestern mid-century white house, which I think you described as your grand-dad's. And then this wooden structure, with a flat roof, and huge window panes. I never had seen anything like it. A single room, with areas divided by curtains I think, a huge wooden dining table that seemed home-made in the backyard, and no bathroom, save the outhouse, all tucked deep in the woods, the surrounding grounds filled with chickens, goats, cats dogs, and probably other sundry beasts appearing. We explored the woods together, then returned to lunch on -- get this -- goatburgers and drank goat's milk at the big table, overlooking the thickness of the woods through the expansive glass. I think that I didn't know they sold goatbugers or goat milk at Tredway's, and the answer was, of course, they didn't. And most insane was the fact that there was no television in the living room area, and as it turned out, nowhere else within miles either. Just masses of books on shelves and lying about.
That may not be wholly accurate rendering of the day, I'm not sure, but it's how I in fact remember the house that Mike Bird built. And, my deep impression with the strange crew from California who shared the same name as a local basketball hero.
As a part-time resident of the Bay Area, and just a bridge away from Oakland and Berkeley, I
have more than once found myself ruminating, indeed marveling at the great leap and transformation that Mike and your mom decided to take by leaving one of the most populated, action-packed, metropolitan, progressive, and stunningly beautiful places on earth, to drive across the country and re-reroot in those boonies of Lost River (itself, of course, a beautiful place in its own right). Looking back, it didn't take me long, despite being small, to figure out that the move was about ideals. To me, what I saw, and what developed into a formative part of my life, was a quite foreign way of thinking; a view that merely because society has built itself in a way that tends to engulf us, drive our decisions and behaviors, outline our modes of living, we do not have to accept those structures as a must, as somehow the only "Good Life", the only principled way forward. I always thought of Mike as someone with such depth in principle, and love for his family, that he was willing to actually pick up and do what most people would consider a "Mosquito Coast" folly, a windmill chase.
Now, as everyone who has been around any of the Birds knows, Mike and Diane raised great, smart children, some of the brightest and best athletes Shoals has ever seen, some of the kindest people. So it seems like it was all for the best. But speaking for myself, I know the influence of Mike and his family has been part of what has made me tick over my life. The discovery of formative books like Jonathon Livingston Seagull, the very idea that books other than religious-oriented ones can be sacred and life-changing, the insight that how we look and live doesn't necessary tell the story about how educated or kind someone is, the quite radical and seemingly lost idea that more stuff doesn't make us or our children much, if at all, happier, I think all came in whole or part from your father, either directly or otherwise. I'm no Henry David Thoreau, but to this day, I have books everywhere, and unfortunately treat them better than my plants! I haven't had television reception throughout most of my adult life, and in fact for a dozen years in a row now, and sport my full set of The Great Books of the Western World, which Mike's dad Otto originated, and you and Eric studied in college.
I value all these little aspects of how I like my life to feel, but I suspect that they -- or at least like to think of them as -- isolated symptoms of something that I've gained that permeates who I am.

Of course, who is flawless, and we all have beefs with our folks and how we grew up over life. And also we change, naturally, over time. I would think that Mike's life and passions, and perhaps even his ideals, evolved over his life. I'm guessing golf was in a fairly remote recess in the back of Mike's brain back in 1975, if it existed there at all, just as boating the kids down the river-flooded "driveway" probably seemed like another life when putting for "Birdie" on the lake. :-) Regardless, I would have loved to been around him more as life unfolded, sure, but you take what you get, and the touch that I received from him and your family's presence I will always be thankful for. It was a blessing to have known Mike and his strange clan at such an early time in life, both early in his existence and in all of ours who were so young.
I'm sorry I could not be in Martin County for the celebration of Mike's life this week. But I wanted you and the family to know that I have been thinking a lot about Mike over the past week, and wanted to try to do something to express some of my feelings.

You are free at your discretion to share any or all of this or not, to your liking. Take care and please say hello to everyone. Have a safe trip home.
Christian Chadd Taylor

Photos from Celebration of Life

Those attending were able to enjoy the many photos that were displayed around the room. Use this link to view those photos.

Here is just one sample:

Bird Family at Uncle Bill's Christmas 1982

Other Comments at Farewell

Various from Facebook

Debbie (Ellis) Patton

Your dad was definitely a man of nature. How odd that nature took him this way.

Karol Hovis

I want to tell you something. When I was ready to drop out of college, I ran into your dad in Shoals. In his quiet way, he asked me about my decision and suggested that maybe I should just go ahead and stay in school. Somehow, knowing that someone (who, in truth, barely even knew me) cared enough to encourage me made a difference. I stayed in school, graduated, taught special ed for 10 years--and I never forgot how his taking those few moments for me made a difference in my life. He was a good and decent man, and I can't think of any higher compliment than that. My condolences to you all.

Roger Welch

I know we're mourning for Mike today ... but ... it’s saturday and i'm betting that mike is playing golf with The Big Guy today...and joking with him just like he would with us. R.I.P., brother, and remember when you play golf with God you should let him win once in awhile.

From Other Contributors

Sharon Pugh

read by Marty Bird
I worked with Mike many years in Bloomington, here is my contribution:

For many years, Mike was my colleague as a teacher and administrator at the IU Student Academic Center, but I met him in the context of a graduate workshop on story-writing I offered one summer in the early 1980s. As I got to know Mike, I was struck by his own stories of ways in which he assessed his values, revised his priorities and changed his life to center on his family rather than conventional trappings of success, which he had already achieved. Mike was true to himself and those he loved in ways that most people cannot emulate, and despite whatever challenges were inherent in his choices, I have always believed the members of his family were uniquely blessed. His decision to leave education to manage the golf course was another of these heartfelt choices. As much as losing this friend saddens me, it is some comfort to know that he spent the last day of his life in the setting where he chose to be.

Brynda from the shop in Bloomington (Miki’s friend)

Read by Marty Bird
While on one of his frequent jaunts to take some pictures, Dad stumbled across Brynda's shop in Bloomington the week before he died. This is how she described him on that day for Miki . . .

He looked so tanned and hale and hardy and happy and said he'd put my store on his regular Bloomington route and told me how much he was enjoying his life. Your Father was so young and still so full of sass. He teased me ruthlessly because I could not come up with Kevin's name for some bizarre reason - and he said you were Kevin's Undergraduate lover or something sassily adorable like that.

DJ Harder and Jenn James

by Marty Bird
Just a couple days after dad died we went to breakfast at The Junction here in Loogootee. Jenn James waited on us and expressed her condolences to Mom by stating “I’ll take care of your breakfast tab - order whatever you want.” Her boyfriend, DJ Harder, who has been golfing at Lakeview since he was 7 or 8 years old, stopped by and wished us well, stating “I’ll think of Mike every time I golf for sure.”

What Janet Rigaux - O'Shea Said at Farewell

My Memories of Uncle Mike

by Janet Rigaux-O’Shea - Read by Chris Rigaux

Goodbye Uncle Mike. Even though you lived to be 72 and at 15 I would have told you that’s really old, I now know that it is actually young for a Bird. You died suddenly and untimely on July 18th and we will all miss you.

My memory of Mike that I’d like to share is his unique gift to live Shakespeare’s words “Be true to thine self.” When Mike and his family moved to Shoals and built their own house and started a farm in the 70’s I happened to be reading Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Pond. This work deeply affected my life and I was so inspired by Thoreau’s call to live simply and in tune with nature. I was so thrilled that my uncle and his family were doing exactly what Thoreau called upon us to do. I couldn’t believe someone in my family was embodying my hero’s philosophy. I thought “Mike is cool! And I want to be like him!!!”

Now I have to admit as a much older person I realize that living simply and growing one’s own food isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and that for those involved in Mike’s experiment the experience may have been a little less sexy and a lot more difficult than it seemed to me as a naïve 15 year old. Nonetheless it took a lot of courage for Mike and Diane to decide to buck the system and find a more meaningful way to live and my hat is off to them for that.

I deeply appreciate Mike’s ability to be non-judgmental and allow people to be. I know that I have not always pleased everyone in my family but I always felt love and support from Mike. We didn’t necessarily have a chance to communicate all that much as I grew older and moved out of the mid-west, however I always knew that Mike was ok with whatever I was doing no matter how whacky. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for that Mike.

Even in death Mike you have managed to do it your own way. A freak wind in a storm and downed trees, who dies like that? None of us will ever forget how you died. But more importantly we won’t forget how you have lived. In the words of Thoreau: “I don’t want to reach the end of my life and realize I have not lived. “ No one will ever accuse you Mike of not living life to the fullest. How fitting that your last day was spent doing what you love—golfing.

I’m not sure that there is an afterlife but if there is one then Grandma & Granddad Bird will be there to welcome you. How neat to see them again. Please prepare a place for the rest of us. However know that we will not be coming anytime soon. Good bye Mike and may you rest in peace.

Love, your niece Janet

What Chris Rigaux Said at Farewell

My Favorite Memories of Uncle Mike

by Chris Rigaux

Mike was a great athlete. His parents sold the Angela house to my parents. But we had a huge basketball court, so Sarah and Barry would often come over to play pickup basketball games or HORSE. Sarah and Barry would practice all year long on their shots, and were rightfully proud of their ability.

One summer when I was around 16, Mike was in town so everyone came over to play some pickup basketball games. We played some three-on-three and HORSE, and no matter what team Mike was on, that team would win. He had sort of a Larry Bird approach to basketball: he would back his defender in, and then he would shoot from a variety of angles. I recall he shot both right-handed hook shots as well as left-handed hook shots, and dominated the games.

At the time, Mike had a ponytail, and I believe he rolled his own cigarettes. After the games, I remember looking at Sarah and Barry, and their faces were flushed, they were hanging their heads, because they had tried so hard and could not beat Mike.

I said to Sarah, “Wow, Mike’s pretty good.”
Sarah said, “It’s all natural talent. He never even plays except when he is here.”

So that made me realize effort and hard work are one thing, but talent is another. One doesn’t cancel out the other.

But the biggest thing I learned from Mike was how to find happiness. We flew out to visit Mike and his family in Santa Ana, Cal., in 1971 or so. Mike had the beautiful strawberry blond wife, the four blond-haired children, the ranch-style house with the swimming pool out back, and the highly paid position as an executive with Xerox Corporation. He had it all.

Then, stunningly, two years later, he chucked it all away. Anything that could not fit into his white station wagon was either sold or given away. He spent the next two years camping in various national parks.

Many of us like to think that we live life on the edge, that we take risks, that we are unafraid of what others think of us. But nobody was like Mike.

Mike of course eventually bought the farm in southern Indiana, then sold in to downsize and run the golf course. But he made the impossible seem possible for all of us.

For me, he was the first person to challenge to idea of the American dream--well-paying job, house, cars, family--as being the end-all of happiness. Up until then, everyone had led me to believe that this was it, this was all there was to living.

I notice Danielle put up a list of books Mike was fond of, but I was wondering which of the Great Books he was most fond of. Eric, Dani, and I, as well as Mike and all his brothers, graduated from the Great Books Program at Notre Dame that was started by my grandfather, Mike’s dad.

I think Mike must have loved Thoreau’s Walden Pond, but also Voltaire’s Candide. Candide was a young man who decided to travel around the world in search of happiness. At the end of his journey, he finally discovers happiness in his own garden at home.

Mike travelled around the world too, to Japan and California and Washington, but in the end, I think he realized happiness was found in his own backyard, in Indiana.

Celebration Handouts

Dad could not be defined as normal. How about "Special?" Mom and I considered the options when meeting with Jay Brocksmith at Brocksmith-Blake Funeral Home and since we had the luxury of time, decided to stray from the standard. Jay did offer to create a handout that came with "the package" of services he was providing, but I came up with this after getting input from mom. I had it printed at FedEx on 100lb white stock which turned out to be quite nice. Want the PDF?

Handout for those attending the Celebration of Life.

What Marty Said at Farewell

Mom asked me to MC the Celebration of Life, which meant I would organize and introduce the speakers and to help move the event along. I also collected as many comments as I could from Facebook and via email that were most especially relevant and moving. I also actively listened to people and took notes that I might weave them in here and there. Here is the actual text I had at the podium and I felt free to ad lib here and there.

Welcome

Thank you for joining us to remember and celebrate the life of my dad, Mike Bird. My dad was born on June 6, 1940 and died on July 18, 2012 at a spry young age of 72. He was one of eight children born to Otto and Eve Bird. He married Diane Dickerson on August 18, 1962 and had 4 children, Miki, Marty (that’s me!), Eric and Danielle.

My dad had a special effect on everyone he met, thus each one of us remembers dad in our own way. We’d like to know a little more about how my dad affected you and we think the best format for today is to enable you to express your thoughts in this setting. We want you to be comfortable, so if you’d like to use the podium and microphone, please do. Or if you’d like to simply stand and tell your story, that works fine as well.

I’d first like to acknowledge the great support my mom and our family has received from the local community. Neighbors and friends have stopped by with food and supplies and offers to do anything, including picking up our mail and mowing our lawn. Thank you.

We have also received several donations:

• Tara Fries donated to Kiva.org in memory of my dad
• Janet Rigaux donated to Doctors Without Borders, and
• Jackie Sampson send us a cash donation to be applied to the charity of our choice

Thank you.

The Name Michael

I looked up the how the name Michael is literally defined and found three sources:

• First, from the Hebrew name meaning “who is like God?”. This is a rhetorical question, implying no person is like God.
• Second, from the bible, the Archangel, meaning "He who is closest to God"
• And third, from the Urban Dictionary: “A very cool guy who makes everyone laugh. Once you meet him, you will want to be his friend right away.”

One person he made laugh was my mom Diane who will get us started with her memories.

Dad as a Father

There was a time that I considered dad to be selfish for moving us away from sunny southern California to live his dreams on a 70 acre piece of land in southern Indiana. I mean, who does this? As a twelve year old it was hard. I was at the age where I just couldn’t, and wouldn’t understand. And selfish? No. He cleared the land, felled trees and chopped wood to heat the house; grew a huge garden, raised goats and chickens and pigs to feed us; and did countless other things not for himself, but for his family.

Sometimes it takes a major event to motivate one to make a change in your life. Let’s celebrate dad’s life by remembering some of the things he did that made him happy. Maybe you’ll try some of these: How about skinny dipping? Or writing in a journal? Take up photography. Take the time to listen to more music; Take an afternoon nap; Learn to bake bread; Take a long walk in the woods; and most certainly - do your best to live your dreams with no apologies.

Dad as a Golfer

Mom tells me that some may relate to this: When dad and I and his brother Tony and my cousin Alan would go golfing (this had to be back in the early 80s I’d say), way before he dreamed he’d be managing a golf course of his own, he would get this grin on his face and tell Tony, “A nickel a hole right?” Tony would laugh. Then dad: “Or how about 25 cents a hole?” Yes, dad was confident and competitive and would like to place a wager on his performance. We all know that never changed.

Dad as a Sports Nut

Dad grew up around Notre Dame football. Since he lived in the Angela house which is within walking distance of campus, dad would hang around the stadium on game day and often got in for free when someone would give him an extra ticket. Dad continued to be passionate about it throughout his life. Well, maybe passionate is not the right word - how about “extra-passionate.” I recall (now remember this was the 70’s when Notre Dame was dominant) listening to Notre Dame football games on the radio with dad. If they won, dad was on a high the rest of the day. Now, if they lost (which was rare thankfully) watch out! Dad was not somebody you wanted to be around.

The most thrilling game we watched was at Uncle Bill’s house, the 1979 Cotton Bowl. Notre Dame was losing to Houston 34-12 with 4:40 left in the third quarter. The game was played in Dallas during an ice storm. Dad didn’t lose confidence, though and neither did their quarterback Joe Montana. Many of the 70,000 fans had left the stadium because of the lopsided score and the bad weather. You might remember the game went down to the final seconds when Montana completed an 8-yard touchdown pass to the diving wide receiver Kris Haines. Final score: Notre Dame 35, Houston 34. Dad was thrilled.

What Danielle Said at Farewell

Michael D. Bird, my dad, died on July 18, 2012. I wrote this the morning of my dad's Celebration of Life (July 28) after struggling for a couple of days thinking about what I would say. I read it at his farewell party with a little bit of ad-libbing.

Hi I'm Danielle, aka dani, the youngest of Mike's kids. To dad, life was sweet. He enjoyed the honey in life and tried to leave anything that was not honey alone.  He and we had a lot of fun.

When I was little my dessert had the tendency to disappear. I, being  miss gullible would somehow be convinced to leave the table. When I got back dad would be waiting for that look of alarm on my face and crack up. It didn't get old. To this day I try not to leave the table once dessert is served.

When Eric and I were teenagers, we were craving ice cream, moaning and wailing about not having any. Dad told us to go look in our Granddad's freezer (he had a summer cabin on our homestead). Well, because we knew Dad, we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there wasn't any ice cream over there, having been sent over there before to get only imaginary sweets. No way were we going to go check this time and give dad the satisfaction. Well this lament for ice cream went on for I don't know how long, I think weeks. Each time dad would tell us to just go get the ice cream from Granddad's, insisting that there was some there. I'm sure you can guess the rest! We eventually gave up, risked being laughed at, just knowing that we'd come back empty-handed. This was Dad, come on, no way was there going to be ice cream there! Of course we were fooled and came walking back to our house carrying ice cream with dad beaming and laughing at his success at bamboozling us. I'm sure he would have loved to have seen our faces when we opened the freezer.

My kids call him a silly jokester. He delighted in everyone but kids especially because they are so much fun --not spoiled by age and seriousness. We were fortunate to spend a week with him in January. We live near Seattle where it rarely snows. Turns out that we got a lot of snow the day before and of his trip and it meant that many flights were canceled including Dad's. He was able to book a flight to New York but then got stranded there when his connecting flight was canceled. He called me, exasperated, which was unusual and surprised me. He must have just been tired. When we hung up, he was okay again. It turned out to be an awesome adventure and serendipity because he got to spend a whole day in Manhattan having a great old time taking pictures and experiencing NYC.

His visit with us was wonderful. He fell in love with his granddaughters all over again and they with him. He was planning to come back next January. I was on cloud 9.

Sort of like he was when I got married. I'm not sure who was happier, him or me. I'd never seen him that happy and it made a great day even better. Knowing he was happy because I was --that was cool.
The same thing happened with the arrival of each of my children. Dad knew my joy and shared it.

Speaking of birthdays, I like to think of the day dad died as another birthday. Dad's view on death is quoted on the cards for this party-- death is just another door to walk through. John Lennon described it as getting out of one car and into another.

Birthdays at our house always included homemade layer cake or whatever dessert we wanted. Dad made a lot of cakes--he had found a fantastic chocolate cake recipe that everyone loved-- on his blog he called it a super duper delicious chocolate cake. We ate huge pieces of layer cake-- Bird pieces we called them. Dad and I usually had a piece for breakfast the next day. I still do that. It's a tradition.

Dad surrounded himself with meaningful treasures -- little things that brought him pleasure or reminded him of someone or something. One of the things that was on his desk is a bracelet with an inscription in Sanskrit. It is worn down on the inscription side indicating maybe that Dad kept it in his pocket and rubbed it with his thumb. He wrote about this bracelet on his blog.
The inscription is a Buddhist mantra: Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum
(Ohm mah nee pahd may hoong)
This mantra is often carved into stones and placed where people can see them. It's said to contain all the teachings of the Buddha and that saying it brings a person closer to enlightenment, improving their lives in every way. Dad cared deeply about improving himself and tried to influence others positively through  the changes he made in himself. I think he experienced a lot of success with that. I'm proud and grateful that Michael was my father.

I wasted far too much energy and emotion in my life wanting his light to shine on me. I've learned that it was shining on me the whole time.

I'll close with some of the things I remember dad saying:

Tomorrow is another day.
It's an adventure!
Feeling great pain means you can feel great joy.
Carpe diem
You're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!

And finally:

Go get'em!