"Holy Wicked Sense of Humor!"

For a number of years one of our most visible regulars was the Chaplain of the Academy of the Holy Family. Father Mike, was just a regular type guy with a wicked sense of humor. When he first came to the Academy he would come to Fred's for a cup of coffee, sit alone and read his paper. Everyone always said hello, Fr. Mike acknowledged with a wide smile, a twinkle in his eyes and a quick hello. We knew he wanted to belong. We soon started including him in all conversations. Fr. Mike was the youngest of his family. They adored him and he took care of them. The family lived in Waterbury and included two sisters, one of whom was married and another unmarried brother. All lived together at the family homestead in Waterbury. Fr. Mike drove there often for visits. He also made sure they were okay, as they were a bit older. To his family and those of us who knew him, he was affectionately known as Mickey. Although he told us to call him Mickey we never did in front of the public. Fr. Mike had entered the seminary at a later age and had served in the Bridgeport Diocese. Mickey had seen violence on the streets and had been a victim himself. No wonder he had sought refuge in the small Town of Sprague. However, this man with the bubbly personality was hard to keep down. He appeared everyday at least three times a day, everyone sat with him. He became a part of our family both in a business sense as well as our immediate family. When may Dad passed away suddenly, Fr. Mike was there and presided alongside the parish priest during the service. He spoke softly and made sense of everything. That twinkle never left his eyes. You knew everything would be okay for us as well as Dad.

Did I mention his wicked sense of humor? This man could keep a straight face and conjure up a story of unbelievable proportions. Tucked in the back of Fred's News was an old toy cap pistol. One evening a regular to the place named Bill D. and his elderly Mom were dining at the restaurant. Mom decided she needed to talk with Fr. Mike. He approached her (he had to preside over evening Mass at the convent and had on his collar and black cassock), she asked for his blessing. With that dry stone-faced look, he whipped out the pistol he had tucked under his cassock and said, "give me all your money!", then put the pistol away, heading out the door to say Mass. I don't think Bill D.'s Mom was ever the same! Of course all thought it funny, but old Mrs. D didn't know him as well as all of us. Another mentionable: The Boston Flower Show. Fr. Mike knew we would go every year and asked to tag along. Sure, he had never been and he was just one of our family members! We had a grand day, enjoying all the beautiful blooms, after a particularly long, cold and dreary New England winter. We approached a vendor to buy some candy, the line was a bit long. Fr. Mike was like a child with A.D.D. No he didn't want to wait. That little voice in me said "let's go". To late! "I was in line first!" he bellowed, "Do you have a problem with waiting on me?" he loudly questioned. That poor clerk didn't know what to say but "Forgive me, I am so sorry" then took Fr. Mike's order. That man never cracked a smile, thanked the clerk, then walked away. When he had reached a safe distance, he broke into a wide smile saying "We still have so much to see!" Oh my God what a brat!

Fr. Mike is now retired in Vero Beach. About a year and a half ago he was again the victim of violence as he listened to someone's confession. He came through his ordeal with flying colors. That wicked sense of humor heals all!