Jon Tevlin: Neighbors rally to give dad, family an early holiday

It is Friday, and Michael Talley rises slowly from the easy chair in the living room and makes his way to the kitchen for a drink of water. The medicines and the treatments have left him parched and thirsty, but he can take only small sips at a time because his throat is almost closed from the cancer.

He sips a little bit of water and savors it, then spits it in the sink. He looks around the kitchen of his nice suburban home in a nice neighborhood in St. Michael and wonders what will happen to it when he's gone. He and Nicole, married nine years now, built it together. They landscaped the yard, painted every wall and even finished the basement with a little -- no, a lot of -- help.

Outside, an inflatable Santa wobbles on the lawn next to an inflatable turkey. The holidays are Michael's favorite season, always have been, and he decorated early this year, just in case.

Talley is 42, and if he didn't have a trachea tube in his throat, you would think he's the picture of health. He never smoked or drank, so this shouldn't be happening to him. But it is, because by the time his sore throat was diagnosed, he already had Stage 4 squamous cell cancer. Doctors say there is nothing they can do.

So he spends every moment he can with his kids -- Tiffany, 8; Nathan, 6; Nick, 4, and Ava, 2 -- and his wife. Michael and Nicole met through friends in Michigan and hit it off right away. Within four months of meeting her, Michael asked Nicole to marry him.

Nicole, an LPN, works with elderly people in their homes. Now she watches as nurses come to change Michael's medicine or to check the tube he has in his throat to breathe. She took off from work most of October, however, "trying to deal with everyone's feelings and trying to find some level ground."

"Mike really wants to make a memorable Christmas for the kids," Nicole said. "So I really want to make it through the holidays and make this something special. ... He loves this time of the year."

Michael has always worked hard, first at Ford Motor Co. in Michigan and later in Minnesota as a machinist. So when he was no longer strong enough to work, he had to rely on others. "People have been amazing," he said. "It's been a true blessing. But people bring food to the door and it's just weird. It's strange to have to rely on somebody else."

Last November, supporters threw a benefit to raise money for the Talleys. The money has carried them through the whole year, allowing them to pay the mortgage and the medical bills that pile up despite insurance.

The Talleys tried to buy life insurance for Michael back when he was healthy, but the agent didn't call back until it was too late.

Since February, the Talleys have been trying to renegotiate their mortgage, which is now upside down due to the economy. They played phone tag and argued with their banker for months to get into a loan-modification plan and reduce their payments. After a television station aired a story about their plight, the bank said they qualified; some relief may be on the way.

And the good deeds keep coming. People have bought them gas cards. Parents at school have even paid for counseling for their kids.

They have all suffered from depression, gone through anger and crying spells, and know there will be more.

"I would really like to live," Michael said. "Death isn't my worry, though. The things I think about are my wife and kids, to make sure they are OK and that they will be able to keep the house.

"I'm just trying to enjoy every moment as it comes," he said. "I wanted to make this a Christmas blowout. I want to make this something the kids remember."

It is Saturday, and Michael Talley doesn't know it, but his blowout is about to happen. The cars pull up and line the streets. Friends, family and neighbors -- 200 or more -- converge on the house in St. Michael.

Santa Claus has come early, bearing dolls and electric cars. People begin to decorate the trees with festive ornaments and ribbons. There is cider and cookies. Then everybody gathers in close and sings Christmas carols in the front yard.

"Man, this is awesome," he says. "This is crazy."