I knew Nancy, like many did, as Tutu. She was a special person in my life. She was always incredibly kind to me. She had a soothing word and sage advice whenever needed. Conversations with her were lively and informative when I was 5 and when I was 35.

Tutu had a rare intellect that was improbably matched with one of gentlest souls I ever encountered. I never entered or exited without a hug. She was a constant presence over time in my life. No matter how or what I was doing I always felt comforted and seen. 

My grandmother Eleanor called her Nancy and that is how I learned Tutu is an honorific and not her proper name. She was a companion to my grandmother in a way I don’t think she had ever had. She was a support and confidant to a woman transplanted from her Florida home to Benicia. She made my grandmother feel welcome and alive. I always felt grateful to her for giving my grandmother something she sorely needed and had rarely experienced.

As I grew taller I went from hugging her thighs to bending down to feel her tiny arms attempting to wrap around my frame. She never batted an eye to my terrible language, she always had an air that she had seen and done it all and still saw me as the young boy she had known long ago.

I know she was a lot to a lot of people, but I feel her loss deeply. When all my grandparents had passed she assured me I still had one left. I am forever grateful.

On behalf of our family I offer our condolences on your mother's passing. She was a wonderful woman. I often think of her when I visit Madison, because I inevitably go for a run down Old Sauk Road and always find myself making a loop past your old house and ours on Park Way.  I have so many nice memories of her from my childhood. She was very warm and welcoming to our family when we first moved to Madison. My mom still has the poster promoting minority adoption in Wisconsin that your mom made for her job, which featured photos of my sister and I that were taken in your kitchen. I hope you have the same kind of happy memories of her to help you though this difficult time.

Nancy was a wonderful social worker, a wonderful and inspirational friend. Our family so enjoyed getting to know her and her family when we all lived in Wisconsin. Her life and now memories of her will be a beautiful light in a world that is so in need of bright smiles, wisdom, and generosity. Her family has our deepest sympathy.

Aloha from Maui....this is a message conveyed from Tutu Higashino....she is 92 and if you know her you know her. When she heard the news she said how sad she was to hear this news...what a shame. Then she gave her un-sensored advice like she always does. "If you haven't lived like her, you need to damnit." "You are what you eat, and always eat dessert first - oh and all on china." "I am hoping her children are ok." "Parties should be celebrated, leis given and guilty pleasures enjoyed now-not later- so do it!" Sadly she will not be able to make the trip in July but from all of us in the Higashino clan, we adored your mom and she was one of Tutu Nani's dearest friends. We send our love and condolences to you and your family at this very difficult time. May you all relish in the joy she had and brought to this world, from the beautiful gallery of photos lord knows she is an angel! xoxoxoxo

I am so sorry for your loss.
I have many fond memories of the Morton family as neighbors on Lucia Crest, visits to the Crestwood house and even a trip to Door County one summer. I remember Mrs Morton as beautiful, strong, kind and always gracious. 
Karen Carpenter Scammell 

On behalf of the UW-Madison's School of Social Work, please accept our condolences on Nancy's passing. We will share this in our next alumni magazine. As it turns out,, Nancy and I were both in the MSSW program at the same time. I enjoyed reading about her life and accomplishments.
Mel Morgenbesser
UW-Madison, School of Social Work
Alumni Relations

Shared by Cousin Stafford:

"Thank you for the notification about the website and upcoming memorial service for your Mom. Auntie Nancy will always hold a special place in my memory as that wonderful person who hosted our visits to Madison at Christmas and made us feel at home after we were recovering from my parents' divorce. Her warmth and affection have always meant a good deal to me and I will miss her greatly. I feel fortunate to have seen her again on our last trip to Hawaii when we all met at Teru's apartment a few years ago. She was cheerful and had a big smile for everyone. I'm grateful that my Mom got to see her then too. As the Green Street generation passes on I hope we can all find some comfort in the fact their influence and legacy will continue on throughout the younger kids and grandkids.

We very much want to come to her memorial service so please keep us updated as plans firms up."

Stafford

Shared by Tutu's dear and true friend, Velma Smith:

"God sends a person, Nancy Morton, into your life when that person is most needed. God brings her home when He needs that person. Rest in power, Nancy. I will miss you, keep you in my heart, remember you, and love you always and forever."

Velma Smith

My condolences to the entire family. My love for Tutu is a direct result of a handful of jobs Amy asked me to help out with through the years, but the best job I ever had, and the most fun I ever had with Tutu was when she moved into her new condo in Benicia and needed some Tutu-retrofitting. I originally went over to hang a few things and move some stuff, but once inside with Tutu she worked every angle she had, including Amy being my boss, to turn my volunteer gesture into a full time "voluntold" job. Tutu had me in that condo working, listening to her ideas, being told how helpful I was and how much I was appreciated, "but can you look at one more thing." In the end I was one of many that helped Tutu create her vertically challenged dream space. Shelving at my waistline, stacking lounge chairs on top of bricks on her back patio so her chair would be high enough over the rail to see the water view. Shit I even became the family car buying concierge for a few years. But the things we created on those days in the condo were hilarious. Tutu side by side with me, a 6' 2" 300 lb man shuffling along finding projects for me to do that required me to either kneel or sit on the floor to complete to satisfy her wants and needs. She was a lot of fun to be around, she was extremely stubborn, but in a way that always made you feel valued even if some of her "asks" were more than my time or skills could handle. I guess that's the reminder every time we lose a loved one. Time, friends, and family aren't forever, we should strive to VALUE all three more. Amy has helped me raise my own family, she has loved and provided for my family and I through the years, and our families became family. I love her children unconditionally and I am forever grateful for your trust in me with your family. Hanging out with Tutu was worth every back ache I got from being hunched over receiving direction from her because she showed me what a life of experiences and love truly looked like down there. Rest easy Tutu. 

I lost my mom last week.

Difficult words to write, even more difficult to say. My tongue just doesn’t want to form the words.  Not because I don’t want to acknowledge her death, because she was an amazing woman and I want to celebrate her life, but because I don’t feel like “I lost” anything. Mom is still here, in my heart, in my head, a part of who I am and will yet become. Mom isn’t lost. I actually feel like she has gone home.

Mom was staying with me at the end of last year, and she had a particularly rough time in early December. She was in a lot of pain and kept asking me “why am I still here?’ and “why can’t I go?”. I told her that it was the pain making her ask these questions and once we got past the pain and she felt better, we could have a long discussion of her next steps. I called Amy and told her that I was bringing mom up to her house, for her last Christmas. It just felt right for her to spend the holiday surrounded by family. It was the right choice. Over the next few weeks mom rallied but we had to place her in hospice care at the end of January.

Over the next couple of months she had her good days and some tough ones, and when I went up to see her in early February she was noticeably beginning to fade. But was clearly happy – content and, well, happy. At peace with the world.

She spent a lot of her time reliving her younger years. She would talk of her sisters and brothers as if they were in the next room. She had conversations with Obachan, often in Japanese. She had a lot of imaginary visitors. One day with only Amy and me by her bed, I asked her how many people were in the room and she pointed out seven. (There were really only six – one of the visitors was actually a stuffed pink flamingo on the bookshelf). Many times she would wake from dreams of children, often times of a small boy. She would be so worried. She was a protectress of children up to the end. Other times she would confuse me with my Dad – I may need therapy to deal with those memories!

Over the last five years helping to care for mom I’ve gained a treasure chest full of memories. I am so grateful and happy that I could share the end of her journey. There are no words left unsaid between us. I had the opportunity to say and hear all that needed to be said and heard. And I am eternally grateful. One of my favorite memories is one that occurred many times over the last year. I would wake her in the morning and she would ask “where am I?” I would explain that she was at my house in Los Angeles. She would ask “where’s Amy?” and I would say “up in San Francisco.” And mom would smile her little smile and say “Well, aren’t I lucky? I have two homes.”

The morning she passed away I drove up to Benicia to say my final goodbye. Sitting next to her I was torn between the loss of my mom and the sense of total, utter, peace. When I looked away from her, I would tear up, but when I looked at her, I would smile. I was overwhelmed by a sense of contentment.
She passed in peace. At peace with the world, herself and her family. Literally surrounded by the things she loved and those who loved her. I cannot imagine a better way for my mom to leave. And to the end, she lived as she always lived - with courage, love, decency, and she even added a pinch of humility, for good measure, there at the end. I hope when it is my time I can make my exit with half the grace that she made hers.

I am at peace with my mom’s passing. I will miss you terribly, miss your friendship, your wit and sardonic comments. I love you, mom.

I grew through my teens with Mom Nancy and her family two houses "next door". Mom was an ear that listened and a voice that sang, discussed or lectured (whatever was needed). I probably paid more attention to her than I did to my own parents. She was my "Other Mother" and I loved her dearly. She was always so interested in life and loved to hear stories about her old friends and neighbors. I've missed her over the years and will now miss a voice that has moved on to another journey. Maybe she'll see my Mom and Dad on that road. All my love and sympathies to all she left behind.

The last year caring for mom in my home was unexpectedly the happiest time I ever had with her. She came for a weekend visit in late February 2020, and due to Covid, we kept her with us until she passed last Tuesday. As her health declined, I felt all my anger towards her simply melt away, and she could see it as well. She was really sweet tempered, gracious, and intact mentally for most of the time. She participated in a family zoom meeting and in phone calls from Teru, Peter, Adolphus, and John. She asked about Linnea and Myra and Ozzie regularly, and enjoyed any tidbit of news about her family. We viewed some photo albums together, and she had a lot to say about her childhood, college years, and her Papa. I brought out some of her ukiyo-e (woodblock prints pictures of the 'Floating World'), and she went over them with us adding in new and more fanciful stories as she went along...she loved her little walker (hot pink metal and leopard-spotted cushioning) and pushed it around the house and into the yard for sunshine. Her cool caretaker, Roberta, would eat lunch with her under the peach tree, and she'd take a good nap afterwards. Blanca would come by and cook special meals for her to encourage her appetite. And she watched the Trump nightmare with us every night on MSNBC, and actually filled in her mail ballot for the election!
In late January, she declined quite rapidly. Her doctor admitted her to Hospice; we had daily visits from CNAs and the supervising RN came twice a week. A chaplain stopped in several times and entertained her with his guitar and his songs. She appeared beatific during these sessions. After the 1st visit, she told me, "How often does someone tell you they will send up a prayer for you?!? I'm so lucky!!"
I began putting head phones on her after dinner, and she loved listening to Pavarotti, the Three Tenors, Cazimero brothers, Franz Liszt, even Yanni and Andrea Bocelli! I would peek in, and she'd be singing at the top of her lungs, waving her arms as she conducted the orchestra, and often cheering and clapping during certain high points. Beautiful blooming Hawaiian orchids sent by Peter and Rachel added to her joy.
And boy, did she carry on LONG conversations with invisible people, perfectly rational and chatty, and often in Japanese. She had visions regularly of a little boy next to her bed, and that seemed to comfort her. I would hear her instructing a group of children, almost daily, about hygiene, good manners, the importance of education...she often saw angels hovering in the air, and one morning she greeted me with a huge smile, telling me not to hurt her pet. She said it was sleeping with her, under the covers, it was a lizard named Sammy. She made sure the CNA and I saw him, so he wouldn't be afraid of us. And so it went...
The week before she left, she asked me several times, "Why am I here? Why am I here?"
On Friday March 12th, she simply stopped eating and taking hydration. She would clamp her lips together, to let me know she was serious about it. Rob, Teru, Will, and I all agreed that she made her decision that it was time to go. She did not talk after that, and never opened her eyes. Her pain medication was tripled, and given every 2 hours. Teru and Will spent a lot of time talking to her (hearing is the last thing to go, even up to the moment of death, and apparently provides comfort.) and playing music for her. On Monday, the RN came and spoke into her ear for awhile. She did respond for maybe 5 seconds to her voice, and opened her eyes briefly. Her last words were, "...stairs, the stairs...". The RN said softly, "You can go down the stairs, Nancy, it's ok, just follow the stairs..."
I put her to bed Monday night, heavily medicated and in no pain. The next morning, I knew immediately. She was in exactly the same position as I'd left her, a peaceful expression on her face.
Rob had intended to drive up from LA in the next day or two, based on the RN's assurance that she would last at least another week. Instead, he jumped in his car and drove straight to our home. I had asked that mom stay with us until Rob arrived, 8 hours later. He and Will and Teru sat around her for 3 hours, with the door closed for privacy. I heard laughter and cackles through the door, as Rob told them funny stories about growing up with mom in Wisconsin...
Rob stayed with us for a whole week, making all the necessary arrangements. Sorrow kicked in, but also real elation that mom crossed over in her sleep at home and surrounded by family and beautiful Hawaiian orchids, exactly as she wanted.
I, personally and at a very deep level, feel so blessed that my mom and I had the time together to reconcile, to forgive each other, and to show our love for each other. I will miss her, but I now carry her in my heart forever.

Robert Morton wrote:

Man-o-man, I really miss mom……let’s honor her by living without limits and without regrets, full of love and life and happiness. I really love you guys.

Amy Morton wrote:

Yes and she would want us to live our lives going forward in exactly the same way: Living large and with passion, joy, and happiness. And yes, I miss her beyond words! Let's put up some of the music she loved…Herb Alpert's 1 big song, Aloha O'e, Pavarotti, any Hawaiian song or any music that brings her to mind and that she enjoyed….Lots and Lots of music. Over the rainbow-(big fat guy)..

William Baker mikami.baker@gmail.com wrote:

I miss her terribly, but I'm so proud of the person she was and the legacy she leaves. (Pepsi Cola Scholarship? 17th Century French Literature? At Swarthmore, coming from Hawai'i? Right after WWII? She really was an outlier, to an extreme extent. What a lady!)

"My favorite memory of Nancy is when we were 10 years old. Amy and I were baking cookies. Nancy stood in front of the kitchen in a cocktail dress, eating yogurt over the sink while lecturing us on the correct way to bake chocolate chip cookies. She looked so beautiful!"

– Susan Osaki, Friend, Honolulu, HI, Mar 21, 2021

(Nancy) I never called her that, she was always Mom. I met her as a teenager, and didn't know how much I needed her. I feel like I was accepted into her family and spent many happy weekends with her at her trailer on the Wisconsin River. Spending our days collecting clams and playing in the river. I had the trip of a lifetime when she took me with her to Hawaii for the wedding of her daughter. What a way to see the Islands. She was the most loving woman, and the world is a much sadder place without her in it. I will miss you and I love you.
Karen"

– Karen Juno, Friend, Madison, WI, Mar 20, 2021

Nancy always lit up the room when she walked into my Jazzercise for Seniors class at the Senior Center. She was friends with everyone and will be greatly missed.

Although we have not been in contact for many years, the good memories are still fresh. From your visits to Cuyahoga Falls to our visits to Madison and Bar Harbor, I will remember the good feelings you engendered. The career you formed as a social worker was not only to be admired but to be yet seen in those with whom you worked. You deserve your rest. Rest in peace. Your brother-in-law, Steve

Tutu was an awesome social worker. Standing up for those without a voice. My favorite picture was of her picketing during a protest, wearing her Little Bo Peep hat. She was a power house of energy back in the day. I don't have that picture, but know that Amy has it somewhere in the family photo albums. She will be very much missed, and will live in my heart forever.

Tutu's passing has saddened me greatly, but it's given me the opportunity to reflect on the life of this powerful woman and to appreciate the impact that she had on me. It's important to know who you are, where you come from, and what type of inner reserves of strength and fortitude you can call upon when the time comes, and Tutu showed me these things in abundance. For this, and the love and kindness that she showered me with, she will forever be with me, in heart and spirit. Aloha Tutu!