A Teacher, a Friend, and a Hero by sean rené janelle

Friday, November 23, 2007, it was news heard around the world, news no one ever wants to hear, and news our family definitely never expected. My dad called me from Colombia to tell me my cousin Mike had passed away in his sleep. He left behind a wife, Maribel – beautiful in every way, and an unborn son, Little Mikey as I call him. After hearing my dad was on his way from Colombia to Avon, Colorado, I knew I had to be there too. Family is the very most important aspect of my life, and I would lay down everything I had if it meant being with or helping my family. I flew to Colorado from Virginia and was greeted with open arms. It was the next day that I would see all of my family and we would attend Mike’s memorial service.

Who was Michael Paul Janelle? Mike was that person who lit the room he walked into. He was that person who would pull a prank of you and you would be drawn closer to him. He was my cousin, and I looked up to him. Being seventeen years older than me, he was almost an uncle, but I took pride in calling him my cousin. He taught me how to ski properly, and he taught me how to be resourceful – like using my mom’s oven as a soccer goal. One of my first bikes was ridden by him many years prior. He allowed us to stay with him, took time to explain the intricate details of bikes and skis, and he always did so with a smile that loosened even the most stoic onlookers. There was no one quite like Mike, and every one who ever heard of him or talked to him knew this to be the case.

As we drove up to Beaver Creek Village I knew this was not an ordinary memorial service. Traffic was heavy, parking garages were full, and pedestrians were fighting the freezing Colorado air just to show their respect to Mike. When we finally got into the auditorium, we realized there was not an empty seat in the house. If we hadn’t been family, we would have been a few among the scores of people standing in the lobby. Over six hundred fifty people were in attendance.

The service consisted of heart-warming and tear-jerking words from the Doyle family, Chico, Jay, Nat, Mr. Catlin, and others that had everyone crying, laughing, and remembering. The slideshow following the service was a glimpse of his life from his ornery self, his dedicated person, and his beautiful marriage. Although his service inevitably brought tears, the sentiment is that everyone knew he would have wanted joy and laughter. It didn’t take a memorial service to remember the life of Mike Janelle.

As the service ended, I was able to vocalize my thoughts to Mike’s parents, brother, and wife – my family. I then exited to the lobby and studied the pictures of his life from him on his tricycle as a boy to his arms raised victoriously on his bike. He was victorious.

Following the service, we went down the mountain back to Avon, where Bob Doyle graciously fed our family and reached out more than he will ever know. I wanted to make it a point that night to introduce myself to as many people as possible and just thank them for their support and being a part of my cousin’s life. Little did I know what I was getting myself into – and I mean that in the best way possible.

Not only was Mike a beloved person, but he was also a world-class cyclist and a highly-demanded ski instructor. He has done more on his bike than most people could dream – starting when he rode his first century (one hundred mile bike ride) when he was five years old. Stories kept coming up about his zeal, his energy, and his passion.

After my family left, my cousin Logan and I did what I set out to do – meet and thank as many people as possible. Logan spotted Tricia Swenson from seeing her on the news earlier in the day, and we introduced ourselves. She was full of energy and had that captivating smile and personality everyone wants to be around. She shared her stories, sentiments, and refreshing sincerity. It wasn’t until she lost track of time that she hand to leave in order to sleep before hosting the news segment early the next morning.

Amber and her boyfriend - both triathletes and down to earth quality people - told stories of Mike and what he meant to them. Mrs. Doyle, or Sarah as I was quickly corrected, opened up with a hug as her whole family had done as well. It was understood that there as too much to talk about and it would take days to skim the surface of our thoughts about mike. Kelly told us the details of how everything went into place for the memorial service and condo for the family, all within two hours of the news. Bob Doyle kept mentioning to me that if I said I was Mike’s cousin whenever I was in town, he would give me a free half glass of water – skimming the surface of his sense of humor I appreciatively concluded.

One guy that I really enjoyed talking to was Nat Ross. He had a comical twist to most stories and relayed sincere thoughts about Mike in a way it seems only fellow cyclists can. The one story that really stood out from Nat was when he was telling me about Mike’s house arrest. Mike had to wear an ankle monitor, but when he couldn’t push it high enough for his ski boot, he decided to head to Boulder for a bike race. Fellow cyclists mused at Mike’s new monitor – they thought it was odd for him to have this, but wrote it off as a heart monitor or something similar. After the race, Mike knew he had to get back to his place so he quickly went home, and since he had to be there, he threw a party. Nat and I decided that Mike was loved by everyone he met, and similarly Mike loved everyone he met.

The most welcoming, genuine, sincere, well-spoken, and thoughtful guy I met that night was Jay Henry. I saw him with several groups of people and finally decided to impose on their conversation to introduce myself. I knew right away why he and Mike were such good friends. They had that same sense of caring and honesty that was appealing to everyone. Jay looked me in the eye when he spoke, didn’t get distracted by what was in the room, and listened in a way I knew he would have with his best friend. He was a rare native of the Vail region that had stuck around. He told me of a story about when Mike first moved to Colorado. He had recently graduated high school, and he wanted to play soccer. The high school coach penciled Mike on the roster, even though he technically shouldn’t have played – I don’t know that Mike cared too much about technicalities.

I am grateful in every way to see people reaching out to Maribel more than our family could think possible. I am thankful to my whole family for having the love, passion, and charisma particularly evident in Mike. I am thankful to Mike for showing us that we can always love more, work harder, teach more effectively, and be a better person. We love and miss you Mike.