My Brother, Michael

Last time, I wrote about my mother and a bit about my brother, Michael. I want to write more about Michael today. I think his story is so important because, except for my dad fighting for us and my Grandmother raising us, Steven and I could both be just like him.

My parents separated when I was about 2 and a half years old. Their divorce was quite a lengthy and drawn-out proces and, by the time it was done, my mother had already had another child (Michael) with another man (Bart). Both of my parents were fighting for custody of Steven and I. Now, I fully believe that our mother did not really want custody of us, she just did not want our Dad to have custody of us because she wanted to hurt him as much as she could. In those days, it was most common to give the custody of the children to the mother. My dad knew he needed something huge to use against her if he were to have even a chance of winning custody. He had found out about Michael through me. I kept talking about "the baby." Although my mother had said nothing about having had a baby, my dad acted on a hunch. He knew my mom had been in Tennessee for a few months and figured that she'd had the baby there. He called and finally found the record of the birth of a male baby to my mother. She'd named him Michael and, unbelieveably, she had put my dad's name on the birth certificate as the father of the baby, rather than put Bart's name since she was not married to him. My dad knew that Michael was not his. He'd had a vasectomy as soon as Steven was born. He got a copy of the birth certificate and took it to court with him. Outside the courtroom, as they waited to go in, my dad's attorney had a little talk with my mother's attorney. He let her attorney know that my dad was prepared to seek custody, not only of Steven and I, but of Michael as well, given that he was listed on the birth certificate as Michael's father. Also, his attorney told her attorney that her dad (my grandpa Tessler) was prepared to testify in court that she (his own daugher!) was an unfit mother and should not be given custody of us. Her attorney relayed the message to her and then walked down the hallway to where my dad, his attorney, my grandpa Tessler, and my grandma and grandpa Roberts were waiting. He told them she had agreed to not fight for custody and would tell the judge that my dad could have custody of Steven and I. Score one for daddy!

After the divorce, my mother married Bart. I know that Steven and I went to visit them at least once. I believe that we may even have spent the night at their house. Bart was very nice to us, so I thought very highly of him. I certainly liked him more than I liked my mother. Their marriage did not last long and, interestingly enough, when they were divorced, Bart got full custody of Michael. Then, as I related in my previous post, my mother took Michael and never brought him back.

When I finally found out where my mother and Michael were, the one and only thing I wanted to know was whether or not Bart had ever found Michael. Had Michael known his dad? When we met our mother for the first time, at Knott's Berry Farm, I was shocked at how Michael looked. He was as tall as Steven, (over 6ft), but very heavy. He had such a huge pot belly, he folded his hands and rested them on top of his belly for the photos we took. He had absolutely NO social skills, nor did he have any hobbies or interests. He did not go to school and had not gone on a regular basis since he'd been in 5th or 6th grade. (He was about 18 by the time we met them) It turned out that all he did was sit at home all day, watching tv, smoking pot, and eating junk food while our mother was at work. I was horrified. I kept waiting for an opportunity to get to talk with Michael alone. Finally, I did and I asked him if he ever heard from his father. He sneered, "No. My dad is just a big jerk!" I was heartbroken. Bart had never found his son. I could picture in my mind that day, so many years prior, when Bart had stood in our living room, sobbing because he'd lost his son. I tried to talk to Michael about that, to tell him what a good dad he had and how much his dad loved him and wanted to find him. He would hear nothing of it.

Well, as I have already said, I saw my mother and Michael twice more. Once, at their apartment and once at their Christmas party. After that, things went from bad to worse for poor Michael. Our mother had decided he needed to learn a trade, but the kid could not even pass the math test to qualify for a job at McDonald's. She decided to enlist him in the Army, thinking that they would teach him something that he could use for a career. Well, he was so beligerent and uncooperative, the army sent him back almost immediately. By that time, Heinz's wife had died and he and my mother were married. Heinz did not particularly like Michael, nor did he want to support him financially. But, since Michael had no place else to go and no way to support himself, Heinz did not have a lot of options. One day, however, Heinz came hom and Michael held a gun on him. Michael threatened to kill Heinz if he did not give Michael some money. Heinz called the police and pressed charges against Michael for threatening him with a weapon. Michael was sent to jail for a short time. When he got out, Heinz refused to have anything to do with him, so Michael was living in a park with other local homeless people. The last time Steven talked to our mother, she said that Michael had just gotten out of jail again, was living in a park, and had had a baby wtih some girl. What a complete waste of a life! He had no home, no job, no skills, a baby but no way to help raise it, and was just another dirty, panhandling bum living on the street.

When I found out where my mother was, my grandmother was CERTAIN I'd want to go and live with her and not with my Grandmother anymore. She could not have been more wrong. I never, EVER for one second even considered moving in with my mother. When I saw Michael, I knew I was right. My life would have been just as wasted as Michael's was, if I'd lived with her. I thank Heavenly Father every day for my grandma. She literally saved my life.

I have no idea whether or not Michael is alive or where he is.