Each of us knew Michael in a different way. I’m going to give you a little history from the family perspective. He was born in Holland, Michigan in 1954. Dad moved us to California in 1961 when Michael was 7. Thank God to Dad, and no offence to Michigan, but California was a great place to grow up!
We grew up in a great house in Torrance, on a cul-de-sac, with each house on both sides having several kids, so we had immediate built in friends. (Michael made fast friends with the Ferguson brothers.) We lived right around the corner from Sepulveda Elementary School, so walking to school took under a minute.
Michael was your typical kid – played in little league, was in the Indian Guides with my dad. He was your typical older brother as well, playing tricks on his younger sisters. He once rigged up a bucket of water over the back door of the garage so that when one of us came through the door, we would get dumped on.
Michael had a unique way of looking at things evan as a kid. When most boys were building forts out of cardboard and scraps of wood, maybe in a tree or behind a bush, Michael and his friends dug their fort into the ground. It was 8 feet deep, well over my head, and big enough around to fit about 5 or 6 kids. It came complete with hatch door above ground and working fireplace. Or, when he decorated for Christmas, he just didn’t hang lights around the house, he rigged up a 100 foot pole from the top of the house, and perched a giant shooting star on top, with a multi string tail that came down to the house. You could see it from all over Torrance. People still ask about that star.
Around sixth or seventh grade, Michael started to become somewhat of a free spirit, or rebel. He somehow convinced Mom and Dad to let him paint his entire room with fluorescent black light paint. Jimmy Hendrix with hair on fire on one wall, Iron Butterfly on the other, a huge wave on the front wall and the solar system on his ceiling. I remember I would go into his room (when he was gone of course) and turn on the black light and just sit to admire his artwork. I thought the room was soooo cool. In fact, I was pretty sure Michael was the coolest person in Torrance! My first album I bought was Iron Butterfly Ball – not because I liked the music, but because it was my brothers favorite music, and I wanted to be cool just like him. My girlfriends all thought he was cool too, and most of Lauries girlfriends had a crush on him.
I remember starting High School – the same for my sister – the first day of school you are sure that you’re going to be picked on in some way. Once people discovered we were “Mike Brancaccio’s little sisters” we were automatically considered cool. (However, the same reaction did not happen from the teachers, not sure why?!) Near the end of High School, Michael had long hair, a big mustache, wore a jean jacket, and rode a Harley. He had the whole "Sam Elliott" kind of vibe going on. And it was then, that I was absolutely, positively, 100% sure that Michael was the coolest person that walked the face of the earth. It was also then that we discovered that Michael was passionate about all things that soared above the earth . . . or flying.
First came the falcons. He went out into the wild, and caught falcons, brought them back to the house and trained them. He had small Sparrow Hawks and big Red Tail Falcons. Probably about 6 or 7 (or more) over the years. He built a small shed in the backyard to keep them in. We all called in “The Bird House”. To this day, any small building in a backyard is referred to as a Bird House. He trained the hawks to free fly across the backyard to land on his hand. Then once he had them trained, he would release them back to the wild.
The next type of flight he dabbled in was kites. He would build all types of kites – some of them huge, some small, from bits of wood and pieces of parachutes he found. He once attached a kite to the end of a fishing pole, and ran it out so high you could barely see it in the sky – just a small dot. He attached the pole to my mom’s house and let it fly for days.
Next came rockets. Hand built by him of course, he would launch them from various parks in the area. Most of the rockets when up, and some blew up (he did like to blow things up - but what boy doesn't?) He was very interested in the solar system and could name all of the constellations in the sky.
More recently, his passion was designing, building, and flying Remote Controlled Airplanes. The planes he built were not just small but huge with a 2 or 3 foot wing span. You could most often see him flying them with his friend Nick at Point Furman and around Palos Verdes.
He did have a few other interests besides flying. He was a good athlete, he sailed, he even lived on a boat in San Pedro harbor for a few years. He liked to camp when he was young . . . taking many trips to the Kern River. He dabbled in hunting - once shooting two rabbits with one bullet (the rabbits were running side by side). He was a great golfer . . . had the natural swing like my dad. And like my Dad, he was an amazing gardener . . . definitely had the Brancaccio green thumb.
He was a genius when it came to working with his hands. He made furniture, did wood carvings, and could create really anything out of nothing . . . bits of found objects, wood or wire. He once built a fully functioning 500 volt Tesla Coil, just to see if he could. It’s somewhere in Lauries garage right now.
For most of his life, Michael was his own boss when it came to work. He layed carpets, worked in construction, plumbing and electrical. He was they handiest handman ever!
Michael was very giving of his time to everyone in his life. You just had to ask, and he would be there for whatever you needed. He was so easy going, I don’t think I ever really saw him get upset over much in life. After my Dad passed away, he lived with my Mom and took care of the house and watched over her.
He had many girlfriends throughout his life, but never got married. I called him the eternal bachelor.
Laurie and I were wondering if he was happy. His last night was spent with his friend Nick flying a little remote control helicopter that they had just bought. This last week, while we were all having dinner together and thinking about Michael, my son Nicholas, got the little helicopter flying. It was so much fun to fly!! We all had such a good laugh. And that sort of answered our question about him being happy.
Michael was unique. Special. A kind, gentle soul. And he will always be . . . eternally cool.
When we were going through some of Michaels things, Andy came across a small vase that was wrapped up in newspaper. Inside the vase was a letter from Michael. The letter I'm guessing is from a few years ago. I’m going to read a part of the letter. It said:
“If you are reading this, that means I have left this world I lived in. But it is all good. No matter if one was to live to be 1000 years old it would be nothing in the overall age of what our earth is. Three billion years and before that who knows. Anyway, point being no matter how long one lives it is but a drop in the bucket of time. Nothing is forever, nothing. I have had a great life, regretting nothing. May you find joy and happiness in your turn at living. Hope to, hope to hope. If wishes were horses and men could fly! Wishes are not horses, but men can fly!!!
He signed off “See Ya”, with a happy face.
