Michael Steele, Mikey to all who knew him, was one of the most caring, funny people I have ever had the honor of knowing; and he just happened to be my younger brother.
Two days after this self-taught guitarist, self-acclaimed comic graduated from high school he received the dreaded draft notice.
I was in college when I found out and I was furious, broken hearted and on my way home via a Greyhound to see if there was anything I could do, knowing very well that there wasn’t.
I walked in the door to a weeping mother, a baby s sister that had no idea what was going on and a brother 16 months younger who continued to hide out in his room.
My dad, ex-Navy, was on one hand trying to comfort my mother saying that Mikey was going to be alright and on the other hand telling his son to enlist in the Air Force which he believed to be the safest place to serve out his tour.
It was the day I became a Peacenik and started my protests against an unfair war.
I, the rebellious college student was determined to fight this. It was the day I became a Peacenik and started my protests against an unfair war.
I want to state right here I never protested all those who fought, I was against the government stealing the youth of our country. I was scared and angry and this was the way I could, I believed, get my brother home.
He did serve in the Air Force as part of the rescue team that flew in on helos to pick up the pieces of fellow warriors. For his bravery he had his left leg shot up as he lifted a wounded warrior into safety. They had to put two pins in his leg to hold it all together. He had gotten through his first tour unhurt, but this was on his second tour. He he had volunteered so his younger brother wouldn’t have to go to Viet Nam. The second brother was the last Steele male.
After an extended stay in the VA Hospital, Mikey returned home. Well not really, because Mikey never really returned. His broken body was there but his broken mind was stuck in Nam.
Mom was never the same
The house the family lived in was down the street from the fire station and every time the siren went off, Mike was under the bed. In an effort to save anyone that tried to wake him up from getting attacked, Dad installed an intercom by which we would call him to get up. After a few years, Mike pushed on with his life, married twice, had two girls, built a business and started to drink himself to death; which he accomplished three years ago.
Mom was never the same, she had written to Mike every night all the time he was in Nam and developed a deformed right hand from the practice. The younger brother married, twice, had two girls and carried the guilt of his brothers sacrifice to this day, being apart from the family.
The baby sister seemed to cling to Mike but she really hadn’t known the Mikey as we had so she fared the best.
Dad remained stoic partly because of being Native American and partly because of his Navy background earned during WWII.
Me? Mikey gave me a gift, I still am an activist though older and having to be a bit more selective about which battles I take on.