[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 151 (2005), Part 6]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 7523-7524]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                    IN MEMORY OF MICHAEL WRONIKOWSKI

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. MIKE ROGERS

                              of michigan

                    in the house of representatives

                       Wednesday, April 20, 2005

  Mr. ROGERS of Michigan. Mr. Speaker, I rise today to ask that these 
moving words delivered on April 2, 2005 by Brian Wronikowski at a 
memorial service for his father, Michael Wronikowski of Detroit, 
Michigan, who passed away on March 16, 2005, be included in the 
Congressional Record:

       First of all, my family and I would like to thank all of 
     you for coming today. We appreciate everyone taking time out 
     of their busy lives to celebrate the life of someone who was 
     and always will be such an important part of ours. Everyone's 
     thoughts, prayers and kind words have not gone unnoticed. 
     Thanks again.
       We would like to invite any and all of you to continue the 
     celebration of Mike's life after mass. Stop in for a bite to 
     eat. Stop in to say hello. All are welcome to stop by at Mike 
     and Kathy's home. Just follow the caravan of people walking 
     down Audubon after the service.
       Joseph and Dorothy Wronikowski welcomed Michael John, their 
     3rd of 5 children into the world on September 3rd, 1946. He 
     was born in the city of Detroit, where he lived all 58 of his 
     years. Raised in the Catholic faith, he attended Guardian 
     Angel Elementary School and graduated from De La Salle High 
     School in 1964.
       After graduation, he joined the Army Reserves, where he 
     served as a security code specialist until 1972. It was also 
     upon graduation that he began work as a printer, a career 
     that would last over thirty years. In June of 1967, he met 
     and began dating Kathleen McEvoy, a former classmate of his 
     from Guardian Angels. Although they were in the same grade, 
     they were never in the same classroom in any of their eight 
     years. On May 10, 1968, a mere eleven months later, they were 
     married.
       Being the good Catholic young adults that they were, my 
     parents got to work on starting their family. Nine and a half 
     months after they were married, Anne Marie, their first child 
     was born. Eleven months later, came John Michael. And so on 
     and so on to the tune of eight children in nine and a half 
     years. As the kids kept coming, and the bills kept rising, my 
     father worked two jobs to provide for us and send us through 
     Catholic schools. You see, public school was never an option 
     for us kids in our parent's eyes. They were both brought up 
     in Catholic households and a Catholic education was the only 
     way to go.
       My Dad became a printer back in the '60's because it meant 
     a pay increase over his job in the mail room. But make no 
     mistake, he took great pride in his craft. I can remember him 
     bringing home picture after picture that he worked on. I 
     think all of us kids had ``The Tiger's Roar in `84'' poster 
     that he worked on hanging in our rooms at some point.
       It was not all work for my Dad. He was a spectacular 
     athlete in his younger years. He dabbled in a just about 
     everything. He was a solid third baseman. As you heard, he 
     was lucky enough to play in the nets in the storied Montreal 
     Forum. He was also a very good golfer, and he was the best 
     bowler I have ever seen.
       As the years went on, working the long hours on the 
     printing press took quite a toll on my dad's body. He 
     developed degenerative disc disease, which resulted in four 
     separate back surgeries. He lived every day in constant pain, 
     but you would never know it, because he would never show it. 
     His desire to live and be active outweighed his desire to 
     live in comfort.
       As the surgeries mounted, he was forced to give up all of 
     his hobbies that he loved for so long. Instead of feeling 
     sorry for himself and packing it in, he moved on to other 
     hobbies that I am sure were no better for his back than his 
     sports were. He redid almost the whole inside of my parent's 
     house. You cannot step foot inside a room there that doesn't 
     have his fingerprints all over it. My mom even turned him on 
     to the wonderful world of gardening. Pulling weeds, planting 
     bulbs--all sorts of fun stuff. But it wasn't the job that he 
     was doing that was important to him; instead, it was how he 
     did it. He was a perfectionist at heart. And it didn't matter 
     if

[[Page 7524]]

     he was working the presses or vacuuming our pool, the job was 
     not done until it was perfect.
       My Dad stopped working in 2000. And though we had some 
     stressful times over the last few years, anybody that knew 
     him knows that his last few years were his happiest. His kids 
     were all grown up. He was blessed with five beautiful 
     grandchildren. And he got to enjoy more time with my Mom than 
     any other time in their marriage. Sure, they had their hard 
     times like any other couple. But my parents were married 36 
     years. Neither one ever strayed. Through thick and through 
     thin, their love never wavered.
       Everyone has different things that will always stick with 
     them. Different memories. Different ``Dadisms''. Here are a 
     few. My Dad was a very good listener. Sometimes he offered 
     his opinions, but more times than not he just wanted to be 
     there for his kids. His silent confidence is already missed. 
     My dad was a huge hockey fan. Many a Saturday night was spent 
     in our younger years with the TV tuned in to Hockey Night in 
     Canada. And it didn't really feel like the Wings had won the 
     Cup until we were able to get Dad on the phone and share our 
     excitement. My Dad was always very affectionate with both his 
     kids and his grandkids. Every time someone was leaving our 
     parents to go back home, wherever home may be, you knew it 
     was time for a kiss on both cheeks from Dad. And a giant bear 
     hug. Then he would stand at the door and wave goodbye, not 
     moving until the car was out of sight. My Dad was always 
     there for all of us. Whether someone needed a ride, a couple 
     extra bucks or just a visit to say hi, you could always count 
     on him. I will be honest with you now--my sisters gave my Dad 
     some of the ugliest gifts I have ever seen. The hats. The 
     shirts. Not so good. Didn't matter though. If the card 
     attached said Love, one of his kids or grandkids, that gift 
     automatically became his favorite article of clothing. And he 
     wouldn't take it off. One of our neighbors gave us a card 
     that read ``I will personally miss Mike because of the man I 
     knew him to be--a helpful, caring, involved and thoughtful 
     neighbor.'' Any time we were talking to my Dad on the phone, 
     each call would end the same way. ``I love you. Okay, bye.'' 
     That's my Dad.
       I will have many long lasting memories of my Dad. But some 
     will stick around more than others. I think like just about 
     every other five or six year old kid, I thought of my Dad as 
     the strongest man on Earth, some type of super hero almost. 
     He had these huge, Popeye like forearms that he got from the 
     long hours working on the press. As years went on, and I 
     looked at my Dad as more of a human being than a super hero, 
     my thoughts of his strength faded away. The last few years, I 
     watched him and marveled. Not because of his arm strength, 
     but more because of his inner strength. He persevered through 
     his life in a way that I cannot do justice in words. In the 
     last month, I saw that inner strength shining through. He was 
     not ready to leave us. He was not ready to leave my Mom. And 
     he fought and he fought til his last day. I realize now that 
     maybe I was right when I was five or six. Maybe he was a 
     super hero. But it wasn't the muscles in his arms that made 
     him that, it was that giant muscle in his chest. And all of 
     us who knew him are better people because of it.
       When I started to piece this together, I came across a poem 
     that reminds me of my Dad to a tee. I would like to share it 
     with you. It is anonymously penned, entitled ``Don't Quit.''

     ``When things go wrong as they sometimes will;
     When the road you're trudging seems all uphill;
     When the funds are low, and the debts are high
     And you want to smile, but you have to sigh;
     When care is pressing you down a bit--
     Rest if you must, but do not quit.
     Success is failure turned inside out;
     The silver tint of clouds of doubt;
     And you can never tell how close you are
     It may be near when it seems so far;
     So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--
     It's when things go wrong that you must not quit.''

       Well, thank you all for letting me share a little bit about 
     him with you. And in my Dad's own words, ``I love you Dad. 
     Okay bye.''

  So Mr. Speaker, it is my honor to rise to recognize the memory of 
Michael Wronikowski.

                          ____________________