Eulogy for Michael Leo Claude Morgan, May 2005
given by Kathleen Bryce Niles at St. Lucy’s RC Church
This is not how it is supposed to be and all of you know that. It is supposed to be Michael up here eulogizing any number of people in his own inimitable way … ironic, sensitive, humorous, touching, hysterical … all the ingredients that made you love him almost every time he opened his mouth to speak.
Without a doubt, the most brilliant individual any of us have or will ever meet, Michael was an enigma to all. I often said through the fifty-six years of our relationship that I knew him better than anyone and didn’t know him at all. He could ferret out every piece of information on you but he always had myriad ways of keeping the innermost doors to his soul to himself and God.
For thirty-five years, Mike Morgan was a fixture in the Syracuse City Schools working with students at Central Tech and Fowler High Schools where he guided scores of kids away from the streets and into more productive and happier lives. Many of those guys remained lifelong friends to him. Later, Mike worked his way up to a position of incredible responsibility as an Immigration & Naturalization Specialist at the Americanization League. There, he was responsible for literally saving the lives of many individuals from around the world. He was one of the few people who relished handling Asylum cases and he was very successful at winning them, too. Asylum cases are those of individuals whose lives are in peril if returned to their country of origin … Michael took on the government and always won his clients’ cases. The beautiful men who will carry Mike to his final resting place today are the recipients of his guidance either in the schools or in the office.
Michael had some weaknesses … his desk was an eternal disaster. Phyllis and Monica would bring in a backhoe from time to time and give it some semblance of respectability. But, he was a genius. Mike could find any scrap of paper buried in the heap. Because he was a genius, his mind stored information like a computer and he could resurrect conversations from a dozen years ago as we mortals might from yesterday.
His interests were eclectic, too. He knew history, literature, music and art as well as any professor … you never wanted to challenge him to a date or document in any of those areas. And, because he was so incredibly intelligent, he was the funniest guy who ever took a breath. A rapier wit, an incredible impressionist, a rock solid entertainer, Mike could capture and hold a room. In no time, he would have everyone convulsing in laughter and begging for mercy. He never lacked for an audience. He was much in demand for parties and private gatherings … he was the consummate guest wherever he went. Except if you were stupid!!!
That’s a whole other aspect of Mike that the feint of heart didn’t want to deal with. Perhaps I should modify that a bit … if you were not intelligent or not learned, that was fine with Michael just as long as you weren’t ignorant nor lazy. If you dangled dumbness like a string of pearls, Mikey would stuff them down your throat in a NY minute. Most of us have been on that end of Mike’s rapier wit at one time or another.
He wasn’t perfect and never laid claim to that but he was the perfect friend for many of us. He allowed us to be ourselves without a lot of judgment or reproach. He’d make his point and leave it. He certainly stuck with me through some relationships that left him wondering if I had lost all semblance of sanity. In fact, he stuck with me for over fifty-six years. When I went to college and we were separated for the first time, he instructed me to keep his letters … just in case he became famous one day … I have stacks and stacks of letters and postcards and greeting cards. As the years passed, Mike became one of the few letter writers still plying that ancient form of communication. I often spoke to him at night only to learn that he was rushing out the door to the Taft Road Post Office to get something in the mail for overnight pick up. Dozens of people have been the recipients of his scribbling a quick note filled with information or something wickedly funny. I feel so sad for those who didn’t save them all. I have real treasure in all those communiques … more valuable than gold.
For his entire life, Mike shared a house with his mother, Veronica. No parent should ever outlive a child. Michael’s big hope at the end was to get enough time so that didn’t happen. When Mike went into the hospital in 2004, he told his mom that she had been a better mother than he had been a son … maybe so, maybe not so … that was between them. What we do know is that he loved her enough never to leave her alone and she loved him enough to let him think she couldn’t get along without him.
And, Martha, Mike’s sister … she has always been close to him through the years. She has been a rock through all of his illness. We have talked almost daily and we have done our utmost to stay sane. Mike and Melissa were not close as children … too many formative years separated them and then Melissa moved away from CNY. But when she came back home, they had the necessary time to meet each other again as adults. Mikey treasured Melissa and felt that his illness was as much a gift from God to him and his family as it was a tragedy. Michael very much loved all his nieces and nephews … Martha’s and Melissa’s children. And, Aunt Betty who brought him much pleasure every Sunday by hosting the Morgan family breakfast for many years … it was Michael’s hope that more of the Morgans join her as space at the table becomes available. And, Uncle Justin and Aunt Betty Mohr … you were always spoken of with great reverence and gratitude … Michael loved both sides of his family very much.
I have shied away from talking about my Mikey because there is absolutely no way I could get through it. He held all my history and there was no one on earth who could say that … not parents, relatives or friends … we were always there for each other, good times and bad … there was never any doubt that we would go through our lives together. From the time it was Mikey, Kathy and Terry until just a few days ago, we were part and parcel of each other. I do not know life without Michael Morgan and the prospects for the future seem quite dim today.
However, we are people of faith, Mikey and me. I know he is watching these proceedings and if I bungle (one of his favorite expressions from childhood), he will not be amused (another of his favorite terms). So, Mikey, my friend forever, rest up, get out the cards and ice tea … my Dad has been waiting for you for almost twenty years … your dad for over thirty-five years … and the rest of us will be along when the time comes.
And, as Michael would be the very first to tell you … don’t cry for him … cry for us … those left behind as he goes into God’s arms for a well-earned and well-deserved eternity of peace and grace. He was a remarkable child and a remarkable man. It is a friendship I wouldn’t trade for the sadness this loss give me now.