My Dad

Jerry Preston Morgan - 1950

I know in this blog I typically talk about my artwork, but it's called "a crabulous life!" to allow me a little leeway. Today my family and I said goodbye to my father after 10 years of his struggles with dementia in the form of Pick's Disease. He passed away this past Sunday (February 27) and today we all gathered together to bid him farewell by collectively recalling fond memories and in song. My dad loved to sing and  he sang all the time. 

The following is from the talk I gave:


I think it’s so great that we all could be here together today. Dad would have loved this. He always loved it when his family got together. He loved people in general, but he especially loved his family.

Dad was pretty goofy.

You just never knew when he’d start singing for no reason. And it would be a silly old fashioned song and he’d sing it loud and usually off key. Or, sometimes, he’d sing a popular song that you’d hear on the radio and that was even worse; especially when he got the words wrong. And sometimes, he’d even do a crazy dance. It could be embarrassing, but he didn’t care. He loved life and celebrated it every moment.

And Dad loved to play games; card games, board games, video games… you name it.  Because of Dad, I knew how to play poker before I was 10 years old.

I can still remember the night he taught me to play checkers. I had to have been 6 or 7 (around Georgia’s age) because we were still living on Smith Avenue. I was frustrated because he kept winning and he wouldn’t let me win. “I’m not going to let you win” he said. It made me kind of angry, but it was one of the best things he ever could have done for me.

He never let any of us win at a game. We had to win a game fair and square and on our own merit. We played Sorry, and Clue and Monopoly. We played Rummy, Go Fish, Old Maid and Tripoli. We played football, basketball, wiffle ball, tether ball, ping pong, pool, badminton and croquet. It didn’t matter if it was an easy game or a hard one; it was always played with the same intensity. When he won a game, he never bragged about it; it was just merely a fact – he won and he’d thank us for the game. When we won, he congratulated us and told us it was a good game. Ultimately we learned that winning wasn’t the important thing. What was important was doing our best and having fun at it.

Morgan Family - 1958

And looking back, I realize that that was his philosophy on life as well. I can’t remember him doing anything without looking like he was having fun. He was happy when he mowed the lawn. He was happy when he washed the car. I remember one morning as a very little girl, helping him make the bed where he and Mom slept. He was happy doing that, too. He was even happy washing my hair! Legend has it, that that was the worst task in the Morgan household. For some reason I was born with a severe phobia of water and from day one I wanted nothing to do with it. I screamed whenever they tried to bathe me, but particularly when my hair was being washed. At some point in time this task was delegated to Dad. Saturday morning was the day to wash Kris’s hair. I can still remember being about 4 or 5 and even older and Dad having me lean over the sink for my weekly hair washing. But I don’t remember screaming. What I remember is singing. Dad would start singing any song that came to his head… “Daisy, Daisy,” “The Band Played On,” “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” Anything to take my mind off the water that was “drowning” me.  And I started to sing along with him. Before long I had built up quite a repertoire of classic tunes and looked forward to getting my hair washed. And I realize that this was just another game for Dad. The task of washing my hair was a game and he did his best, he had fun at it… and he won!

Dad was such a lover of people. He didn’t know a stranger. He could strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere. He never failed to make a plane flight without making a new BFF. And in return, people loved him. Whenever I’d go to visit him at his office, wherever he worked, I noticed that not only did everyone in his office know him and make a point to say “hi” to him whenever they saw him, but so did everyone in the entire building.  Everyone knew Jerry Morgan. Now that I think about it, this sounds like someone else in the family. Garrett has obviously inherited this same trait.

Dad would also help out anyone anyway he could and never think twice about it. It could be Mrs. Campbell, the widow who lived next door, with a leaky faucet, or a couple of my high school classmates hitching a ride home from school on a cold winter night. Once, when Mom and Dad came to visit me after I was married and had Jerry and Garrett, Garrett needed a ride home from an after school activity. Dad saw that I was up to my eyeballs with chores to do and he offered to go pick Garrett up for me. I gratefully gave him directions and off he went. Jerry came up to me and asked why did I “make” Papa go get Garrett. I explained I didn’t make him, but that he wanted to do it. “Why?” Jerry asked. “Because Papa loves to help people,” I explained. There was a moment’s pause and Jerry said, “I want to be just like Papa.” And I’m happy to say that when it comes to helping people, Jerry is just like Papa.

Morgan Family - 1973

I think, to some extent, Dad was probably born with his upbeat personality. But at the same time, he also worked at keeping his attitude positive. His small library contained books such as Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” and “The Power of Positive Thinking” by Norman Vincent Peale. And he was known to repeat favorite quotations when appropriate, that nearly became mantras. A college friend of mine was asking Dad for relationship advice and whether or not she should call up an old boyfriend. Dad encouraged her to go for it and added “I’ve never regretted the things I’ve done, only the things I haven’t done.”

Another favorite quotation that he was fond of repeating was “He who hesitates is lost!” That’s the mantra he used to teach me to drive.

And he was the most patient of teachers. I vividly remember him teaching Cindy how to drive a stick shift. For some reason, one night, he decided to let her practice while he rode in the passenger seat and Mom, Kendall and I were in the back. The three of us backseat drivers were about to lose it over her stopping, starting, stalling and lurching. But Dad made us “be quiet” and the lesson continued until finally, Cindy got the hang of it.

One thing Dad was not patient with, and that was fear. He feared nothing and didn’t understand fear in others. He never did understand my fear of water and I’m afraid he lost his patience trying to teach me to swim. He didn’t understand my fear of crickets and how they might jump out at me at night when I got up to go to the bathroom. And he certainly didn’t understand my fear of storms, but that one he helped me to overcome. One of the greatest sources of family entertainment was to gather on the big screened porch on the front of our house and watch a thunderstorm pass over. Dad always delighted in them.

Jerry Morgan - 2011

And not only did he never fear anything, he never worried either. He was certainly concerned about people and situations, but he never worried about them. He had faith that life would work itself out… and it always did.  He was like that song, “Don’t worry… be happy!”

And speaking of faith, Dad was not a religious man, but he was certainly spiritual. I don’t ever remember seeing him reading the Bible. He didn’t have to; he had it memorized. It was easy for him to memorize because he had distilled its very essence into three words…God is love. At first, that may seem over simplified. But, when you think about it, it’s a very difficult concept to grasp. He wasn’t saying that God is loving; he was saying that God and love are the same thing. And when you accept God, you are accepting love and you do all things through love. When you act out of love, it is impossible to kill, steal, lie, cheat and so on and so forth. And everything Dad did, he did from a position of love. And with that in mind, I’d like to read from 1 Corinthians:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. Love is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Dad was love.

I love you, Dad. 

Morgan Family - 2011