daniel, Page 12 Author

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.

Eulogy for CATHERINE PATRICIA HEARN (1907-1997)

Delivered by Kathleen Bryce Niles at Most Holy Rosary Church Syracuse, New York

I met Kate Hearn nearly fourty years ago. I remember incredible steel wool hair swept up around a beautiful, serene face that was punctuated by bottomless blue eyes that cut right through to the heart of any matter. There was no place in her world for hemming and hawing, for indecision or waffling. She always knew where she was going and she always went right there.

There are not many things that I can tell you about Kate because she was truly an exceptional educator … a private person who worked with the lives of children, always remembering that with the young people in your charge, you must always be friendly but not a friend, in the usual sense. Kate was willing to give of herself but never to give herself to us. We didn’t always understand this reticence and her ability to establish appropriate distance. As adults, we can know that she had those unique abilities because she was, indeed, a consummate professional.

For me to tell you even a little about the strength of this remarkable woman, I have to tell you a little about me. I was a high school girl with one foot in childhood and the other in adolescence when I stumbled into the Guidance Office at Central Tech High School. I was well into a business program that would guarantee a lifetime of secretarial work. Angry and frustrated most of the time, I was able to find encouragement and peace in the time that Miss Hearn, as I knew her at that time, would spend working with me.

She believed in me and gave me the time and space to learn to believe in myself. I spent an extra year at the high school to pick up some academic courses, but more importantly, as I know now, to learn more from her. I earned a BA and MA in English … like Kate. I took a Masters in Psychology … like Kate. I took my first job with the Syracuse City School District … like Kate. And, like Kate, I went to work with children at Central Tech. Later, I completed the CAS in Educational Administration to be a school administrator.

She was my greatest fan when I did well and my sharpest critic when I did not. From her, I learned the meaning of the phrase, “the silence will be deafening.” It taught me some measure of humility and it made me listen for her voice calling down through the years when a decision of some consequence needed to be made.

Currently, I am in my 29th year of service to the children of Syracuse. There are few days that pass that I do not think of Kate Hearn. How different my life would have been without her!

Catherine Hearn never gave birth to children but she most assuredly could call hundreds, perhaps thousands, her own. I was just one of those children, and because of Kate, I was able to reach into the lives of other children to give them support, encouragement and hope. Each time I reached a child and changed what might have been to what could be, it was also the hand, the heart of Kate Hearn touching that child.

And, so it is, and will continue to be … that whoever felt the love and spirit of Kate will pass it on to all they touch. I am grateful to God for letting me be one of Kate’s children but remember I am only one … everywhere you look there are others doing her work, God’s work, in perpetuity. May her most beautiful soul rest in peace.

KBN
Class of ’61

Eulogy for ADELAIDE DODGE NILES
Given by daughter Kathleen Bryce Niles at St. Lucy’s RC Church
Syracuse, New York

My mother was an ordinary woman who sometimes did extra-ordinary things.

First and foremost, she was a Dodge. In our family, whether you were a Dodge, a Gordon or a Niles, you were a Dodge. The implication of being a Dodge meant that you were ingrained with Grandpa’s Rules that were, gratefully, tempered by Grandma’s sanity in the face of having to co-exist with others on this planet.

My cousin, Dave Gordon, will undoubtedly tell you about the strength of the Dodge women, so I will simply tell you some specifics that will highlight the myriad things my mother taught me.

I learned very early that what went on in the house stayed in the house. This was a tremendous mystery to both my father and me because nothing ever went on in our house that couldn’t be put in the Herald Journal. But that was a Dodge rule and one that had best not be broken.

I learned that family was the most important thing in life. Everything else must take a back seat and stay there as long as family needed you.

While I was born an only child, I learned quickly that to Little Harry, Donnie and Sue I was the older sister and the protector. And, God help me if I failed in that duty.

And, to Barbara, Roberta, David and Judy, I was the baby Gordon. It was their job to tolerate my foolishness and to make certain that I was kept safe or there would be hell to pay.

Because my mother and my aunt were the two girls of nine children, there was no chance that I would be allowed the luxury of being an only child.

I learned that you can have knockdown dragged out fights with your cousins but no matter how big a jerk you are or they are that they are family … .and nobody … ..and I mean nobody outside the family better say the same things you say about each other.

and right or wrong to the outside world you stand toe to toe with them in public … then, when you are alone, you take up your grievances in private … .

and I learned you had better resolve them or you had to deal with the aunts and uncles. They knew the Dodge Rules all too well. They lived them exactly.

The nine of them were one when outsiders were present, and that could have even meant spouses, but everyone of them would, could, and did get in each other’s faces if they thought the brother or sister needed it.

I learned that if you took a job, you did the job to the best of your ability. My mother took a job at Easy Washer during the war. She made bullets. She worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. She earned one hundred dollars a week. That was in 1941.

Thus, it came to pass that when I awoke one winter morning with the tell-tale red streak across my forehead, mom said, “I think you have measles. Go directly to the school nurse. If you have them come home. If you don’t have them, stay in school.”

And, so with measles, chicken pox, chronic bronchitis and pneumonia, I missed fewer days of public school in thirteen years than most students miss in six months today. Mother did not look kindly on malingering.

I learned that if there was work to be done and there was no money to hire out, you did it yourself! My father lacked those genes that determine whether one is handy around the house. My mother had them all.

It was she and my father’s seventy-five year old mother who climbed the ladder and put a roof on the garage in East Syracuse. It was she who painted, papered, hammered and sawed. It was she who worked with virtually no money at all to make a beautiful home.

I believe that for the 43 years she was married that she did all that she did on less money in a year than the average Cambodian family makes in two weeks. She was a remarkable homemaker.

I learned that when people come to your house unannounced at dinner time that you had best lose your appetite fast because the first thing you do when someone comes through your door is offer them food and drink.

I learned that even if you have to meld slivers of soap together, you can and will be clean.

I learned that when a visitor came to the house that when you are 80 years old and find out that your guest has Aids that you respond by saying, “So what, if people don’t like it, they don’t have to come to your house.”

And, I learned it is okay to get married but you shouldn’t do it in college. And, I learned it is okay to get divorced but it is not necessary to ever discuss it again.

I learned that discretion is the better part of valour. But if there was a war to be fought, one had better get in the battle and show that he or she was a Dodge.

Before my father was shipped out to the Pacific theatre, mom went to stay with him in Florida. She was smart enough to allow inquiring minds to believe he was Hispanic and not West Indian.

But she was also intrepid enough to march to the back of a bus in Tampa and take the seat she had selected for herself. And, when the driver slammed on the brakes and stormed to the back to inform her that she could not sit there because it was for “Coloureds” only, she told him in no uncertain terms that she had paid her money and would sit where she damn well pleased. That was in The South in 1942.

I learned that if you were born a Dodge without a sense of humour that your life was virtually over.

My mother was one of the wittiest people God ever created. She could make you laugh with imitations and no one was safe from her impressions of something really stupid they did.

One of my friends who is a nun once stated that Addie could tell the raunchiest joke and it was as if they passed right through her and never touched her. Telling dirty jokes to nuns kind of gives you the clue about mom, doesn’t it.

I learned to trust my instincts. My mother had five brothers and my father in WWII. Instinctively, she knew they would all come home safely. They did.

Mom was better than any psychic … Far too often mom predicted things that were going to happen or had happened without her being told. I remember the day she announced that Joe Luteran had died. We told her she must have had a bad dream. About an hour later, we got the call that Joe had indeed passed on.

Her abilities to do this kind of stuff wasn’t always easy to live with … it ultimately caused me to change planes and to change routes for trips. But I learned early on to trust those instincts of hers.

If we had been a more sophisticated family, we could have put her on stage and made a fortune.

One of the reasons I love watching John Edwards today is that mom made a believer out of me. My cousin Sue Dodge and I are waiting for tickets. We know that if my mom or Uncle Harry can’t get through, sure as the sun comes up, Aunt Fran will organize all the forces of heaven to make sure they do.

I learned from my mother’s 75 year old lips that she brought me into this world and she could still take me out. Though none of them ever wanted to admit it, there was a lot of Charlie Dodge in every one of them.

I learned when my father died that if you have done everything you can to be the best partner you can be that you do not need to mourn excessively because all your memories are joyful.

I was foolish enough to spend my first 42 years believing that if something happened to my father that my mother would fall apart. It was she who held me together.

It was she who declared that dad died as he wanted to and that he had a great life and that it was time to move on. So much for fragility.

I learned from watching my mother take care of both of my grandmothers what it means to do your best for the people who bring you into this life.

And, for eight years of Alzheimers, she was able to stay to home because she had instilled in me that that was the right thing to do.

I was told over and over by professionals that they didn’t know how it was being done … but as difficult as it was from minute to minute and hour to hour, it was easy because I know she would have done the same for me.

My mother had a wonderful life. She had an excellent marriage. She was an outstanding mother. She has earned the respect of all who knew her and she more than earned the rest that God gives her now.

And, the last thing I learned was from both my parents. And, that is that I am the luckiest kid in the world. Thanks, Mom, for everything you taught me.

OBITUARY
Adelaide L. Niles, 85, of East Amherst, NY died on August 12, 2003. A life-long resident of Central New York, she relocated in 2002. She was the daughter of Charles Anson Dodge of Cazenovia and Adelaide McCabe Dodge of Auburn. A graduate of Roosevelt Jr. High, in her youth, Addie did hairdressing. She worked seven days a week, ten hours a day, at Easy Washer during WWII, for the war effort. An outstanding wife and mother, Addie leaves a legacy of industry and integrity. In 1942, Addie married Nesbit B. Niles who died in 1985. Excellent singers, they made beautiful music together for 43 years. Additionally, Adelaide was predeceased by her brothers: William A., C. Edgar, Earl K., Carleton J., Harry M., and Paul A. Dodge, and her sister, Frances M. Gordon. Addie is survived by a daughter, Kathleen Bryce of E. Amherst and her brother, Ralph Ned Dodge of E. Syracuse; and many, many nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. A Memorial Mass will be held at St. Lucy’s Roman Catholic Church in Syracuse at 11 a.m. on Saturday, August 23, 2003 to be followed by a luncheon in the Parish Hall. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to any of the following: Alzheimer’s Association, Syracuse YMCA, St. Lucy’s Food Pantry or Calvary Episcopal Church Music Ministry, 20 Milton Ave., Williamsville, NY 14221.

Eulogy for HARRY McCABE DODGE, JR.
delivered at St. Mary’s Church, Baldwinsville, on August 24, 2009
by his cousin, Kathleen Bryce Niles

The reason that I am speaking this morning is because when Grandpa Dodge died, Grandma Dodge moved into the flat above Uncle Harry & Aunt Rose on Rich Street in Syracuse. My mother, Aunt Addie to many of you, spent a part of every day with her mother. And thus, I grew up in the house with this Harry, Donnie & Sue. They were not merely my cousins. They were and are, my brothers & sister. I always had the inherent knowledge & security, even as a very young child, that if anything happened to my parents, I was safe within this family.

The five and a half years that I had on Little Harry (who will go to his grave today still being called Little Harry by most of his 33 first cousins) … those 5.5 yrs. meant that I was the Big Sister and my job was to protect the three of them knowing full well that the wrath of the generation above would fall upon me should I fail. I always did my best. To this day, I often find myself attempting to be the buffer among them when some dispute is at hand. I don’t always do as well in adulthood as I did in childhood in soothing, smoothing and generally making the most difficult of times easier for each of them. But I continue to try.

When we were children, there was no Atari, Nintendo, cel phones, U tube nor ipod. We had black & white, three station tv that really, really sucked. What we did have was imagination. We pretended. In our play, we were whomever … whatever we could dream. With ten more cousins living in the house behind … Uncle Bill’s kids … we were a family that didn’t need any body else to create our own world.

In his imagination, Little Harry was a fireman, a soldier, a dad … Unlike the rest of us who grew into jobs we never envisioned as children, Harry became all those things that he dreamed. This is a monumental achievement that very few can claim. In so many ways, he grew into a man of conviction, purpose and destiny.

Just a kid when the Vietnam War began, Harry did three tours of duty amidst the napalm, agent orange, explosions, controversies, drugs and all the attendant dangers and horrors of war … A war that so many at home didn’t understand … didn’t appreciate … didn’t realize was being fought by our own children who came home to disrespect, derision and a sense that their own people had no awareness of what they had done as Americans asked to serve their country by their own government. There were no parades, no accolades, no hip hip hoorays for Harry, for Donnie, for all their comrades. But still they held their heads high in the knowledge that they had done their very best to protect and serve. To the end, Harry was a Marine … proud of his uniform, proud to have done his very best. He signed off on his emails and his phone conversations with Semper Fie, the marine motto. And he was proud that his father, a Navy man, served in both WWII and Korea. And, even more proud that his sons served in the armed forces. Mick and Nate were Marines … the latter serving two tours of duty in Iraq. And Kelly was an Army man. Harry set the bar high and they rose to meet their dad there.

And, Harry was a firefighter…again, like his dad, Harry, Sr … and again, followed by his son. He volunteered with the Plainville FD for years and years becoming Chief. His willingness to put his life on the line for others again set another bar high. And, Harry, III, whom we know as Mickey, now serves the people of Syracuse as a full-time firefighter. Additionally, Harry was an EMT with the Plainville Ambulance Corps, B’ville Ambulance Corps and the Carrier Corp Fire Rescue. He worked tirelessly to rescue and save the lives of countless people in need. The lessons we learn from our fathers as children serve us for a lifetime.

And, Harry’s daughters learned the importance of service. Elizabeth is a Deputy Sheriff in Onondaga County and Sarah serves the elderly in an Assisted Living facility. Whether we realize it at the time, we become so much of what we have seen in our parents.

And, Harry was a Dad … I wasn’t around for those decades in his life but I will bet that he was a tough dad … a guy who was a strict disciplinarian and who took no stuff from his five kids. Grandpa Dodge was incredibly hard on his nine children and each of them, in turn, learned that to raise strong, competent and disciplined children, that it was necessary to seldom speak softly but to often carry the big stick. I like to say that my Mother was raised by a Ninja. My mother was a Ninja. So was Uncle Harry and I have no doubt that Little Harry carried on the tradition of taking no prisoners.
What we all learn, in time, is that they all did their best. They did what they believed was the right thing to make us the best possible 
Dodge that we could be. It was not easy living through childhood with the kind of discipline and restrictions imposed upon us but it did make us very strong individuals. And, we knew, we know, that we were loved. Harry’s children were much loved by him. He spoke with pride and admiration for who they grew to be. If they each remember that discipline is best served up with love, they will not raise the kind of children that we are seeing everywhere we go these days.

And, Aunt Rose … we, who are Dodges, often forget the one person who kept the peace, found the sanity, kept our Dodge parent from infanticide, and molded us just as much, if not more, than our father or mother did. For Harry, his mother was, is, the paragon of goodness, mercy and love. She was able to spend a few
months with him in NC last year which gave both of them so much peace and comfort. And as much closure as losing a child could ever offer.

Harry is at rest after going out like most Dodges, waging war against the inevitable … we just don’t die without a fight. We don’t do much without a fight. Most people with the cardiac condition that plagued Harry for the last decade would have been gone years ago. Instead, he was thrilled right up to his last breath believing that he would be back at Kelly’s right about now. He never gave up.

Those of us who loved him are glad that he is really home now. So, do not mourn for Harry. Say your prayers for him, yes. But understand that most of your prayers belong with his mother, his brother, his sister, and his children and grandchildren. They are left to a world that no longer has a Harry McCabe Dodge, Jr. in it. They are left to rise to a very high standard of goodness and kindness. It is their job to see that Harry’s name (and, yes, there is a Harry, IV) goes on with the kind of pride and sense of service to others that was this Harry’s hallmark. Semper Fie, dear boy … we are very proud of you.

Eulogy for YVONNE CURRIER CLIFTON
April 10, 2010
by Kathleen Bryce Niles

There is an expectation that the people charged with keeping us safe and protected will do just that … keep us safe and protect us. This doesn’t happen for all of us, just for most of us. Sadly, it did not happen for Yvonne.

Quite honestly, few of us ever believed that our Yvonne would make it past 60 … hers was a life fraught with challenges of both a psychological & physical nature. She was born into a very difficult lineage and made some choices because of it that propelled her into a most dangerous and traumatic life.

Once I said to Yvonne … why is it that hurt found you at virtually every turn. She replied immediately that with a very brief exchange, those who do choose to inflict pain on children and adults can tell if you are vulnerable. She was vulnerable.

For most of her life, Yvonne would have given anything to be out of it. Thank God that because of Peg Flanders and Jerry Clausen she was able to maintain a sufficient level of equilibrium to get to her last decade. By then, she had outlived those who elected to make her life so arduous.

By then, she was able to enjoy her children: Cheryl & Kim, her g’children and even a couple of great grands … none of whom, because of Y’s vigilance & love, had to endure lives of perpetual disruption and emotional chaos.

By then, she had found two docs who were able to hear her and treat her as the brilliant and loving individual that she was. It is rare for a person or a family to acknowledge doctors as friends in an obituary. But this family felt it very important that Ys friends, Dr. Forbes & Dr. Clausen be noted as survivors. They were much more than physicians to Yvonne. They were the key to her having a sense of security and stability that allowed her to know real joy in living at long last.

Years ago, when our friend Jenny MacPherson said that she was leaving money to Y in her will, I said, “Are you kidding? There is no way that Y will outlive you. You need an administrative assistant. Put Y on your payroll.”

From there on out, Y showed up for work at Jen’s house each week day morning. As long as she was physically able, she did laundry, watered plants, shopped, dusted, and took care of the sundry day to day things that Jen needed done. It was a great deal for both of them & proof that the angels speak even thru the least of us…that being me.

When Y could no longer do those things, God love Jen, who kept her on as companion and consultant and lunch partner. It was a wonderful arrangement for both of them.

After meeting Y, Dr. Clausen made certain that Y met Peg Flanders. That was a friendship that endured for over a quarter of a century … as did Y’s with Jen, Shari, Priscilla, Joanie, and me as well as others who were part and parcel of the Comstock Writers’ Group. However, it truly was Peg who gave Y the power to realize her own value to others and to herself. Y would tell you that Peg was the very best friend that anyone could ever have. And, she had her.

YC was, without a doubt, a hub around which we all gathered … often the voice of reason and good sense. She could bring Jen down from high C, put Peg right when she was off on a tangent, and teach me that being judgmental was not in anyone’s best interest.

She did something vital for each person in her life…something that no one else seemed able to do. I know that my mother thought of Y as her best friend. I know that Jenny Mac thought of Y as her best friend. I know that Peggy thought of Y as her best friend. And, there is a long list of others who thought the same.

God gave Y no more than she could handle but much of the package really sucked … I do hope that God has made the necessity of all that known to Y and that she has, in her grace and wisdom, told God that somehow it made that wonderful last decade of being in control of her life in ways she never could have imagined worth all the rest.
And, that all the trials and tribulations that she endured were very much compensated for by having had the friendships that she made…and that somehow it was a pleasure to have been God’s messenger to so many in saying that no matter what life brings, it is in the living that we come to know the value of each other and the worth of ourselves.

By the time Y said, “Enough” … she had experienced a peace and a calm that we only dream of…We are all better for her having been in our lives and we have to trust that she was better for having each of us in her life.

We shall miss our friend … but not so much as if she had never come our way.