The following is Lorraine's story that she planned to share at the memorial service.

For those of you won't know, I got the opportunity to know Mike on our outings this past year at Brookdale. He had a deep love for his family and friends. not once did he complain about the curve life had thrown him.

On our drives, he would tell me stories about he and his brother getting into some kind of trouble, he and Lori attending OSU in their VW Bug, and watching their boys group up to be fine handsome men. Oh' and let's not forget the golf stories!

When I would pick Mike up, he would always be wearing something Beaver. I think he did that to get a rise out of me. I did ask him once, "I bet they had to pay you to wear that," being a Duck fan. He would laugh and say, "No."

He admired his surroundings, whether it be the flowers in the yards, kids on the playground, or the view of the city from the Portland Aerial Tram. He made sure to say "Hi" to everyone with that smile.

Seeing the pictures at the Hillside 35th Anniversary celebration of all the past activities to current, I saw that Mike liked to and and have a good time. He also wanted to make sure no one missed out, so he even pushed his friend Cal around in his wheelchair to dance with another resident.

Mike was one of a kind that we all got know and love. I learned from him that every day the sun does shine somewhere. It's our job to find it.

Thank you, Mike.

Mike was born in Portland, but it’s the Oregon Coast that always had his heart. Throughout his life, he shared many stories about Newport and growing up in the Nye Beach area with his brother, Larry. He loved to run on that beach, get out on the water, and to simply inhale the coastal air. He also often shared fond memories of working in his father’s grocery store near Yaquina Bay and of the many regular customers that passed through. Mike loved his time on the coast.

After graduating from Newport High School with honors in 1958, Mike went off to Oregon State University to pursue his degree. He joined the Delta Upsilon fraternity and loved the many events they had with the Sigma Kappa sorority. He would sit at the piano in that sorority house serenading the girls to the tune of “Unchained Melody.” And it was there that he met the love of his life, Lori. They dated throughout college and married just after graduating in June 1962.

Mike entered the US Navy as an Ensign, becoming a Full Lieutenant before his honorable discharge in 1966. His time with the Navy found Mike and Lori stationed both in San Francisco, where he was assigned to the USS Piccaway, and San Diego, where he joined the crew of the USS Gurke. It was during their time in San Diego that they welcomed their first son, Michael Todd, into the world.

After the Navy, this young family of three moved back to Portland where they soon welcomed their second son, Eric Brent. It is here that Mike began what would become a 32 year career with Hyster Company—first in New Product Planning and ultimately as Sales Director for North America. It was a career that caused the family to move many times between Oregon, Illinois, and California. In all that relocation came an opportunity to seek adventures with the family across the country—camping, fishing, hiking, skiing, and sailing. Mike loved the time with his family.

And Mike loved the 56 years together with Lori—ballroom dancing, cruising the ocean, and traveling the world. Mike loved God, his church, and singing in the choir. And he certainly loved his golf! But perhaps most of all, Mike loved to make people laugh and loved to see them smile. 

We remember him for all of this today. He will be forever missed, but never forgotten.

Following is the story I shared at the memorial on Sunday, September 23rd:

I vividly remember a specific moment with Dad. He stopped me one evening when I was passing through the living room and asked me to sit down. I knew the tone in his voice and I knew the look on his face all too well. One could always tell when the conversations were going to turn serious with Dad. He had this directness in his tone, choosing his words precisely. The pregnant pauses between words would become very pronounced, leaving you hanging in a moment of silence waiting for what was coming next. You wouldn’t dare interrupt that silence. And then there was his face. More specifically his eyes. Dad wouldn’t blink when he was getting serious. Rather, he would sharpen his gaze on you and right before unveiling the details of the conversation he had pulled you into, he would roll his eyes back into his head. It was seeing the whites of eyes that always served as a clear signal. I’d better listen.

“Son, you need to stop messing around. It’s time for you to get serious and decide what you are going to do with your life.”

That’s the gist of the lecture I received that night. Perfectly appropriate for any father to say to their child. Especially in the case of that child being in their mid twenties, jobless, and still living at home. However, I already had a job. And… I was only 15.

I’ve thought about that specific lecture a lot through my life. And I’ve thought about it even more in these few weeks since Dad’s passing. What did he really mean by it?

This became clear when I recently came across the words of Dad’s speech to his high school graduating class back in 1958. He was only 18 at the time, but he spoke to his class about the importance of contributing to the betterment of society, the importance of delivering on the unique responsibilities that we are all born with, and the importance of creating a strong family. Looking back, I can see that he committed to his arc in life when he was at a similar age as I was when I received that lecture. 

In that speech he said, “In life as we know it today, family life constitutes our society, and community. In a family we understand friendship, cooperation, and sharing.”

Dad loved his family and always sought out new adventures to bring us together. Some of those things came fairly natural to him like loading us all into the wagon or truck and trekking out on a long drive across some corner of the country. Some of those things he was never particularly skilled at, like skiing, but he never tired of trying. He did it for us. He wanted his children to have the best possible experience growing up. Through it, he wanted his family to be strong, together. He was always very responsible to his family.

He also said, “Everyone in this world has some mission beyond [themselves] to perform. When we were brought into this world we were given certain talents and capabilities. The way we use these talents and capabilities is our mission beyond ourselves.”

I don’t think Dad ever really understood my creative impulses or my “take it as it comes” approach to life. Nor did he ever understand the details of my career. But he wanted to know all he could about me. He wanted to support me in whatever way he could. And he wanted to be certain that I was maximizing my potential, making a positive contribution of my own to society. He saw this as his responsibility as a father.

I thank you, Dad, for the many life lessons you taught me. For all the fun times we shared together. For all that you did for Mom over the past 56 years. And for giving me the support and space to find my own path. I will miss you tremendously, but I will never lose the many lessons that you taught me and the deep sense of responsibility to my community that you instilled in me.

Lori shared the following words at the memorial on Sunday, September 23rd:

I met Mike in September of 1958 at Oregon State College in an English Composition class. He impressed me because he was kind enough to walk me all the way across campus from the Home-Ec Building to Benton Hall where my Psychology class was held. He even held my umbrella when it was raining. That was quite a long walk and we got pretty well acquainted along the way. 

We didn’t date at that time because I was interested in other fellows, but the next Fall came another opportunity. There was a dance in front of the Gill Coliseum after the Paw-Paw Pick in the baseball field where the Talons and Thanes teach the freshman how to perform the ritual. Talons represented the sororities or women’s living groups, and Thanes represented the fraternities or men’s living groups. I had been dancing with a Thane for several dances, but had the desire to change partners. 

Not knowing how to do it politely, at the end of a dance I just sort of ducked behind the bushes and ducked down low. That’s when I bumped into someone’s legs. I looked up and recognized Mike. I quickly asked if he would dance with me. He agreed and we danced for 59 more years.

After the coliseum event was over Mike and I went to the O Club for a Coke. We always referred to that as our first date. We were pinned that same year on November 4 and engaged two years later on December 4. Mike sang the solo at both serenades when his fraternity came over to the Sigma Kappa house. My sorority sisters were enamored with him.

We married 5 days after our graduation and spent 56 (mostly) happy years together.

I remember the Thanksgivings that we spent together at Eric & Frank’s home in Newberg.  Mike would always greet us with such enthusiasm and was really grateful that we were all able to get together.  Mike loved to tease everyone around him