Celebrate Mitch Day

Today is Mitch Day. It's the 9th anniversary of my brother-in-law, Michell's death. Every year on August 11th, we remember Mitch by doing three things he would have done. 1. Do a random act of kindness. 2. Play a practical joke on someone. 3. Make some art or do something creative. I encourage you to do one or all of these things today. Here is a picture of Thomas with his three siblings - Kate, Mitchell, and Michael.


I didn't get to know Mitch as well as I would have liked to, since I really only met him a handful of times before he died. But what I remember about him was his kindness, and his crazy sense of humor. Today I'd like to share with you a poem I wrote in honor of Mitch after he died in 1999.


Birds of Passage

i.

You tell me there's a stunned bird
on the sidewalk by the high rise
people stepping aside
as if it is nothing
but a lost tourist
you are on the 18th floor
maybe thinking
of the brother you lost
how he visits
your sister's rooms
his voice on the wind
you don't know
what kind of bird
some sort of hawk
don't know
if it flew into a window
fell many stories
is this how we are
with our grief
not knowing
building from sky
the police have closed
a lane of traffic
enough before rush hour
that it doesn't make
the news
we hope the phone
will never ring again
to tell us anyone we love
has died
by the end of the day
the bird is gone
and I want to know
where they've taken it
if wherever it is
will ever be safe enough

ii.

several states away
the smoke of your brother
pauses in the air
another hawk flattens
against a window
it is the house next door
to your brother's birthplace
no barriers
only reservation stillness
so much sky to choose from
who is he looking for
forgetting how to pass
through walls
we open and close our palms
blow out candles
burn sage
in the corners of rooms
the sky must be falling
stars smack into our windows
storm clouds spill under
our doors and the birds
double back on the wind
flying feet-forward
to land on our shoulders
whisper into our days
we want to tell you something
but we keep losing our way

iii.

four months to the day
and another
relative dies
we expect a hawk
to land on our windowsill
knocking
it is said
that when someone
we love has died
in twelve days
will come a sign
of safe passage
now all of us are looking
out our windows
through our dreams
into faces of people
we walk past
waiting for the message
hoping they will step
out of a crowd
calling our names

Brittney Corrigan, copyright 1999. All rights reserved.


And I'll leave you today with these pictures of Elliot at the "33rd beach" on the Columbia River last week, when Nona and Papa Mr. Vic Victor took him on an adventure one afternoon.




Now go play that practical joke.