A Tribute to my brother Michael Andrew Kelly
Many people start speeches with “It’s an honor and a privilege.” Sometimes it is out of formality or lack of something better to say. However I say to you today with all sincerity that it is an honor and a privilege to speak about Michael Andrew Kelly. When we were small children our grandfather gave us all nicknames. Michael’s nickname was Pickle. And since it feels odd to me to refer to him as Michael, from this point on, I will refer to him as Pickle.
Biologically Pickle and I were first cousins. However he, my sister Alicia, and I have considered and addressed each other as siblings for as long as I can remember. So much so that Alicia’s children never knew Pickle as anything other than Uncle Michael or Uncle Pickle
People who knew Pickle as an adult would most likely tell you that he was reserved, quiet, kind of a loner. And while that is all true, it’s only a portion of who my big brother was. Let me tell you about the Pickle I knew.
Pickle was 9 months older than me. And when we toddlers, Pickle was a biter. For some reason he decided to use me as his teething ring. I’m not telling you this from memory, of course. However it would appear that the adults thought it was more appropriate to snap pictures rather than save me from the grips of Pickle’s fangs. In one picture in particular, I am in a walker in the kitchen. Pickle is standing over me with half my forehead in his month and I’m justa grinning like its normal.
It only got better as we grew from toddlers into children. Any female who was around in the 70’s remembers the Dr. Scholl’s sandals with the buckle on top. They came in a bunch of colors. Well I had a red pair. And I loved my red Dr. Scholl’s. One day Pickle decided to chase me down and throw mine down the sewer. My mother came out of the house hollering at both of us. Pickle got in trouble for throwing my sandals in the sewer. I got in trouble for letting him. I wasn’t upset about getting in trouble. I was mad about my shoes. I am a girl after all.
One of Pickle and my favorite pastimes was role playing. I’d be our grandmother and Pickle would be our grandfather. We thought we were quite the actors as we dramatically played out conversations mocking their personalities. I had fun with my brother.
Then there was meal time at the kids table. It was just me, my sister Alicia and Pickle and we had a ball. We acted silly. We were loud. We had fun. Who knew we were creating such fond memories and some weird ones too. Like how we used to dip our ham in our Kool-Aid. I know it sounds strange but it gave the ham great flavor. Plus nobody was watching the kids’ table anyway. As an adult Pickle stopped eating pork. Hmm! Maybe that’s why.
Pickle was a rowdy little boy but what little boy isn’t. He started to mellow when we hit our teenage years. He fell in love with music. DJ Smashalot would bring the latest music down from Syracuse. My sister and I were so excited when Pickle played Lottie Dotty for the first time. Pickle graduated from carrying a boom box to scratching records and transforming on the turntables. During this same period Pickle played basketball whenever he could. He might have been 5’ 7”ish but he played like he was a giant. Anyone who lived in West Lake at the time knew that. Music and basketball were his two passions and you could see how happy they made him. All you had to do was step back for a moment and watch.
After I graduated from high school I went off to college. I can remember coming home for break and hanging with Pickle. On one occasion Pickle, his girlfriend, my boyfriend and I went to see Keith Sweat and Bell – Biv – Devoe in concert. As corny as it may sound today, we decided to dress alike. All four of us. We wore matching denim overalls with one shoulder down. On another occasion Pickle decided to take me dancing. So off to the club I go with my big brother. Pickle was not the most graceful dancer in the world. That night Pickle decided to enter a dance contest. He got on the dance floor and started having convulsions so I thought. But no Pickle was actually bustin a move. I was so astonished at what I was seeing that when a guy standing next to me commented on Pickle’s dancing I said I didn’t know him. Well boo on me. Pickle walked away with the $50 first place prize. Pickle and I relived that moment over and over again for years. Usually when we’d relive it I would reenact Pickle’s moves but I’ll spare you all today. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to spend time with Pickle even during brief breaks from college.
As adults we didn’t get to spend as much time together. I was always gallivanting here and there. And spent a lot of time outside of CT. However I’d get to see him whenever I came home. In the summer of 2008 I moved back to CT and in February of 2009 I moved in with my grandmother Marie, my Auntie Ann and my brother Pickle. The four of us lived together for a year. Poor Pickle. He was already living with two women and here I come. Although my grandmother opened her home to me so she could nurse me back to health she unknowingly provide me and Pickle with an opportunity to catch up and reconnect. And we took advantage of it.
No one knows this but Pickle used to come into the room and check on me every day. He was so concerned for me. He’d ask me if I needed anything or if I was hungry. He did this every day. It was as though no time was lost between us. He showed me true love.
Of course being in a house full of women kind of scared him though. He had to zip up dresses on Sundays and help us put on and remove necklaces. He never complained though. We watched a lot of the lifetime channel. I guess we rubbed off on him and he tried watching it. But one day he came to me and said he couldn’t watch that channel anymore because we women were crazy. He said the movies gave him nightmares. What he really liked to watch was the food channel. Pickle loved, loved, loved to cook. And a great cook he was. I don’t care what Pickle cooked, it smelled good, well unless his was frying onions. While Pickle’s food smelled good I tried to steer clear of eat. Pickle ate a lot of non-traditional meals. He was a vegetarian. I remember the first time Pickle tried to give up meat. Auntie Ann had left the house but had to turn back around because she forgot something. She said as she turned onto Braeburn Lane all she could smell was pork. She entered the house to find Pickle frying up a pan of bacon. Then there was the time she saved a pork chop from dinner to take to lunch the next day. Hmp! When Auntie Ann got up the next morning her pork chop was gone. Eventually though Pickle was successful with his vegetarian diet. And when I became ill he introduced me to better foods to eat.
Pickle didn’t enjoy spending time in crowds, but he enjoyed small groups. While I was living with him, there was company all the time. Usually family. My sister’s 3 children were ever present. Pickle was so patient with them. We’d all play Wii together. That’s probably some of the most recent fun we had. Pickle liked to laugh at me playing tennis because I was determined I could beat Venus or Serena Williams. He’d tease me about being addicted to the game. But every once in a while I’d catch him bowling on the Wii.
In the last couple of years my grandmother started hosting game night on Fridays. We’d play pokeno or scrabble or bananagrams. Pickle didn’t play. He’d retreat to his room but never before he’d make the most delectable fruit salad. He’d make it look like we were at a five star restaurant.
Another very important part of Pickle’s life was his relationship with our grandmother, Marie or Big Momma as she is known today. Even as small children, we could see the love Big Momma had for Pickle. I wouldn’t call it a favorite kind of love. She made us all feel like number one. But there was a special love for Pickle. A love that to this day I have only appreciation and admiration for. I watched Big Momma care for and love Pickle. And I so glad to have witnessed her strength, her generosity and her love for him. I know she is sad today but I sure hope she realizes she brought peace to Pickle’s life. And she has set an excellent example for me. And let’s not forget Auntie Ann. She knows how to hold down the fort. Big Momma and I weren’t going to work and Pickle worked less as his health declined. We had to send Auntie Ann on our job. And she took care of us. Although she’d tease us sometimes about not working, she sure did call every day to make sure all was well. Pickle worked as hard as he could as long as he could. Pickle was dedicated to his job. He was serious about his job. Pickle would be in the hospital or home feeling under the weather and at the same time talking about returning to work. He enjoyed his most recent position at the Crown Plaza. I’m so glad Pickle was able to turn his love for cooking into a job.
A quick side note. I want to thank Pickle’s step daughter Jewel and her fiancé Dustin for their commitment to Pickle. Pickle loved his step children and although he was no longer with their mother his love for them and their love for Pickle never waned. Jewel is a woman now but she and Pickle have been a part of each other’s lives since she was a little girl. So again thank you Jewel. Thank you for loving my brother.
Before I end I have to tell you a quick and funny story about Pickle even if it is at my own expense. A few weeks ago I was sitting in Pickle’s room chitchatting with him. He was looking at me so intently. I just assumed he was very interested in what I was staying. After all, when I lived there I’d sit in Pickle’s room and we’d have these in depth conversations where we’d both end up laughing or crying. Well anyway I was excited because Pickle was so interested in my story. Then suddenly with a very serious look on his face he said he had to interrupt me. He pointed to my chin and said “Don’t you want to pluck that?” We both burst out laughing and couldn’t stop.
Tears have replaced my laughter in the last few days. And I am sure I will shed more because I will miss my brother. However I rejoice at the same time. I was sitting with Pickle when my cousin Kimberly prayed with him and he accepted Jesus Christ as his LORD and Savior. I am glad that my brother Pickle who I never heard say an unkind word about anyone is healthy and at peace now. I love you forever Pickle. I will miss you until I see you again Pickle. Most importantly I am happy for you Pickle. And please, Pickle don’t you and Charlie give the LORD too much trouble. Be with the LORD Pickle.
