Michael Belding
In Memory of Michael Angus Walter Belding
Why do you wander, oh mind, rest somewhere. The natural course of things to happen cannot be altered. It is bound to happen. Therefore enjoy the pleasures, whose arrival and departure cannot be ascertained without remembering the past and without expecting the future.
(Sanskrit saying)
Mike would be happy to learn that his friends at Motte & Bailey have acquired his formidable book collection. Little did Gene know it would turn out to be 144 boxes, each of them filled with selections ranging from the history of the Roman Empire, the Civil War and the Mayan Civilization to an assortment of dinosaur books, cheesy sci-fi paperbacks and contemporary political memoirs. His family is grateful that these books, which he cared so much about, have found their way into the right hands.
Uncle Mike was a kind-hearted, gentle person, who was intellectually curious, somewhat adventurous, and definitely harboring a bit of Dennis the Menace. His memory was so keen he could retrieve titles and authors of books he'd read decades before, recite you a particularly moving Gregorian chant at Christmas or quote passage and verse from a German Bible. And he loved cats. In the 70s and 80s his beloved companions were Scooter and The Lewit (pronounced lee-wit), and when they died, Ralphus came to fill the void. She lived with him for many years until her recent death. He missed them all profoundly.
Mike enjoyed being both the professor and the provocateur, depending on the situation. If he had an interested audience, he'd overflow with detail and description, revealing a staggering depth of knowledge of the subject. On the other hand, if people were interested in debate, he'd become the devil's advocate and surely find some way to get a rise out of them. We saw this in action on a number of occasions, most notably on holidays.
In our family, Thanksgiving was by far the best. Uncle Mike would always come prepared with the same perfectly crafted non-PC jokes about issues we care about, just to see if he could provoke one of us. And I have to admit, for too many years, I took the bait. But after a while, as his jokes and stories became legend, we actually looked forward to the telling. Another of his favorite contributions was to make off-color remarks in Sanskrit. He'd carefully and precisely recite the idea he wished to convey, and then write out the ancient script on the back of an envelope. Pleased, he would then translate it to English and relish in our amazement. Or he would point to the images in one of his Mayan hieroglyphic books and translate the glyphs and read the calendar, dissecting them in great detail. He also showed us pictures of his trips to the jungles of Guatemala where he walked among the impressive ruins. I was inspired. He was brilliant. As a kid, I remember comparing him to that tall, gray, Outer Limits alien with the giant brain. I eventually became convinced that Mike's brain, in fact, did somehow exceed the size of his cranium.
He met his oldest friend, Bruce Cameron, in the first grade at Greenfield Village School in Dearborn. That was 62 years ago. When he learned of Mike's passing, Bruce said this: "[m]aybe Mike will transcend death. So if you see a man too fat, with scraggly gray, still a little red hair, dressed as a vagabond, ambling down State Street either ignore him or say 'Hey, Michael, was the weakness of Rome and its susceptibility to Barbarian invasion apparent in the bureaucratic weakness of the infrastructure put in place in the colonies of Rome in the 2nd century?'"
Vital statistics: On February 27, 2011, after enjoying his customary allotment of beer at his beloved Fraser's Pub, Uncle Mike crossed over to the great beyond. He was born on March 30, 1943 in Dearborn, Michigan to Elsie Dorothea Dress Belding and George Angus Belding (a psychiatric nurse and municipal judge respectively). He had one sister, Joanna Belding Neale, who was probate judge in Cheboygan County for 17 years. His two surviving family members, nieces Heidi Neale and Katherine Neale Kline, live and work in the Chicago area. We miss him.
- hn
Why do you wander, oh mind, rest somewhere. The natural course of things to happen cannot be altered. It is bound to happen. Therefore enjoy the pleasures, whose arrival and departure cannot be ascertained without remembering the past and without expecting the future.
(Sanskrit saying)
Mike would be happy to learn that his friends at Motte & Bailey have acquired his formidable book collection. Little did Gene know it would turn out to be 144 boxes, each of them filled with selections ranging from the history of the Roman Empire, the Civil War and the Mayan Civilization to an assortment of dinosaur books, cheesy sci-fi paperbacks and contemporary political memoirs. His family is grateful that these books, which he cared so much about, have found their way into the right hands.
Uncle Mike was a kind-hearted, gentle person, who was intellectually curious, somewhat adventurous, and definitely harboring a bit of Dennis the Menace. His memory was so keen he could retrieve titles and authors of books he'd read decades before, recite you a particularly moving Gregorian chant at Christmas or quote passage and verse from a German Bible. And he loved cats. In the 70s and 80s his beloved companions were Scooter and The Lewit (pronounced lee-wit), and when they died, Ralphus came to fill the void. She lived with him for many years until her recent death. He missed them all profoundly.
Mike enjoyed being both the professor and the provocateur, depending on the situation. If he had an interested audience, he'd overflow with detail and description, revealing a staggering depth of knowledge of the subject. On the other hand, if people were interested in debate, he'd become the devil's advocate and surely find some way to get a rise out of them. We saw this in action on a number of occasions, most notably on holidays.
In our family, Thanksgiving was by far the best. Uncle Mike would always come prepared with the same perfectly crafted non-PC jokes about issues we care about, just to see if he could provoke one of us. And I have to admit, for too many years, I took the bait. But after a while, as his jokes and stories became legend, we actually looked forward to the telling. Another of his favorite contributions was to make off-color remarks in Sanskrit. He'd carefully and precisely recite the idea he wished to convey, and then write out the ancient script on the back of an envelope. Pleased, he would then translate it to English and relish in our amazement. Or he would point to the images in one of his Mayan hieroglyphic books and translate the glyphs and read the calendar, dissecting them in great detail. He also showed us pictures of his trips to the jungles of Guatemala where he walked among the impressive ruins. I was inspired. He was brilliant. As a kid, I remember comparing him to that tall, gray, Outer Limits alien with the giant brain. I eventually became convinced that Mike's brain, in fact, did somehow exceed the size of his cranium.
Crossing the finish line at the site of the original Olympics in Greece
He met his oldest friend, Bruce Cameron, in the first grade at Greenfield Village School in Dearborn. That was 62 years ago. When he learned of Mike's passing, Bruce said this: "[m]aybe Mike will transcend death. So if you see a man too fat, with scraggly gray, still a little red hair, dressed as a vagabond, ambling down State Street either ignore him or say 'Hey, Michael, was the weakness of Rome and its susceptibility to Barbarian invasion apparent in the bureaucratic weakness of the infrastructure put in place in the colonies of Rome in the 2nd century?'"
Vital statistics: On February 27, 2011, after enjoying his customary allotment of beer at his beloved Fraser's Pub, Uncle Mike crossed over to the great beyond. He was born on March 30, 1943 in Dearborn, Michigan to Elsie Dorothea Dress Belding and George Angus Belding (a psychiatric nurse and municipal judge respectively). He had one sister, Joanna Belding Neale, who was probate judge in Cheboygan County for 17 years. His two surviving family members, nieces Heidi Neale and Katherine Neale Kline, live and work in the Chicago area. We miss him.
- hn
