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While I was only six years old at the time, I have a very strong memory, and I’ll never forget the year that my oldest cousin, Michael Mikulics, came to live with us in New England around 1973. He was just about 20 at the time, and trying to figure out what path his was going to pursue in life. He was a lot of fun for a young guy like me. He would refer to himself proudly as the "Hungarian" cousin. I can still hear his defiant tone after all these years, telling our Mom, "Aunt June, why do I need to take a shower?! Hungarians don't sweat!"
"Michael Mikulics, you winia (Polish for you ‘pig’)!” she would yell back at him. “You may not sweat…but get your doopa (Polish for ‘rear end’) in the shower…you stink!"
And then there was the time when Michael bought a beach towel down at Spag's mega-store with the Hungarian flag on it, and ran it up our flag pole in the field (fortunately under the U.S. ensign). When our Dad – Michael’s Uncle Gerry – arrived back home from the hospital, I thought he’d have an aneurysm…yelling at his nephew, Michael, get that beach towel down and “don't disgrace our American flag!"
It was all in good fun, though, and we loved having Michael with us…and our parents loved him like a fifth son. I still remember taking him to the old Worcester Train Station when it was still quite operational, and dropping him off "to go to Europe". I thought to myself, ‘Wow, that's going to be a long train ride.’ Of course, I was quite young and impressionable…and hadn't quite figured out that Michael was taking the train to Boston, and then flying out of Logan Airport to go backpacking around France, Croatia, et al. I do remember picking him up again at the Worcester Train Station and he presented me with a 5-inch high cast iron Tour Eiffel! I loved him for that. He was a great character…just like his (our) maternal grandfather, Harry Miller.
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