A

LIFE'S

CELEBRATION

BY THE

FRIENDS AND

FAMILY

OF

MICHAEL P. MOHR

1942-1992

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.

And he said:

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life I s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer's hand

be for gladness; For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

My first 16 Years

by

Mike Mohr

New York Publishing Com.

I am dedicating this book to my parents, for all the loving care and consideration they have given me.

Mike, Mike’s sister, Judy, and Mike’s parents. June 1992.

My Beginning

I was born in the Children's Hospital, Buffalo, New York, on March 29, 1942. I am told that I weighed in at nine pounds and three ounces and that I was long and skinny.

I cannot remember much of my first three years, at which time I lived in Buffalo. I have been told, by my Mother, of some of the things I did.

Before I could walk, I could climb. Once I climbed out of my playpen and fell asleep in a box in a closet. Later, when I could walk, I was found more than once parading up and down the street in the nude, on the pretence of going swimming even in November.

I had two good friends when I lived in Buffalo. They were Norm and Richie Edwards. I remember, when I was about three, one of the above mentioned boys filled their father's gas tank with sand and their father had to take the gas tank off and clean the whole thing including the gas lines.

When I was about three and one-half years old we moved out to our present home.

Mike and Judy, clothed, about 1944.

From 3-10 Years Old

An entirely new life started for me, when I moved to East Aurora. We moved in February, although I slept at my Grandmother's house the first couple of nights. The first night at home, not being accustomed to the stairs, I remember falling down.

Soon after we moved, I got my first and only dog. She is a cocker-springer and now thirteen years old. She got her name, Nipper, because she used to come up and nip our mittens off of our hands.

During the summer, I spent many hours with my dog exploring the land back of our house.

When I was seven, my parents decided to go on a fishing trip, over the Labor Day weekend. My sister, Judy, and I were supposed to stay at my Grandparents' home. The day they were to leave was a beautiful day and I wanted to wear shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, but my Mother made me wear long pants and a sweatshirt. This choice, as you will see later, was probably lucky for me.

My Father stopped at a gas station and I got out; when I got back in the car, I didn't close the door all the way. The door was the type that opened from the front. We were going along about forty miles an hour, when I saw that the door was not completely closed. I remembered how my Father had shut his door while the car was moving, so I tried it; the wind caught the door and pulled me out. Dad stopped the car and picked me up. They took me to three or four doctors and finally found Dr. Donovan at home. He treated me and then they took me to the Children's Hospital. I was unconscious for two days and for a while they didn't think I was going to live. Then, they were afraid I would lose part of my sight. I missed about two months of school and I am not supposed to play football, even though I sometimes do.

In the fourth grade I had a bird-watcher for a teacher. During the year we built bird houses and feeders and sold them, the money going to charity.

A few days before Christmas of the same year, I started to complain of pains in my stomach. Christmas morning at about ten-thirty, I had my appendix removed. Christmas was a little late that year.

Cars and their Influence on Me Cars, engines and anything mechanical have always fascinated me; if I could I

usually took them apart. I learned to drive when I was about twelve and for the next year hounded my

Father to let me buy a car. When I was fourteen I bought a 1947 Chevy coupe. When I got it, I had to push

it to get it started. Within the first hour I had it, I took the muffler and tail pipe off. Boy, was that loud! The next thing I did was to build a quarter mile race track. After about a week of racing, the comers of my race track were about twice as wide and they looked as though they had been plowed.

I remember one time when I was driving I put it into second and put the gas pedal to the floor on the straight away, then I slowed down to go around a down hill curve to the right, when my door opened and I almost fell out. I managed to hold on

to the wheel with one hand and with one foot in the car I pulled myself back into the car. I looked up and I was headed right for a tree surrounded by large rocks. I turned the wheel and just missed the tree, but I got a few rocks. Back on the track I put it to the floor again.

After that it was too rainy and wet to drive, so I turned my thoughts to fixing the body of my car. I got some car lead and a torch and started to fix the rust spots.

I didn't drive it in the winter, so I drained the radiator and let it stand out. In the spring I filled the radiator, but it would not hold water, so I started to check the cooling system and found that I had about an eight inch crack in the engine block. A couple of my friends and I pushed it into the garage and took everything off the engine except the carn and the crankshaft. About three weeks later my car had a 1948 G.M.C. truck engine in it.

I am now in the process of selling it and getting another car.

Home Life and Education. My home life, ever since I can remember has been happy and good. My parents are kind, wonderful and too good to me. I am afraid that I have let

them down in many respects and I am going to try to make it up to them. I have a good home life and my Father owns half of a food brokerage

corporation. My Mother works hard at home, every day, to make our home a happy one.

My education has all been in East Aurora. I have been offered a good education, although I have a tendency to "goof off." I have decided to settle down and concentrate now.

The Present At the present, the most important thing to me is being an Automotive Engineer.

I have decided on this, because I want something to do with cars, but I don't want to be a mechanic. A mechanic isn't paid too well and there is little chance for advancement.

To be an automotive engineer you have to go to a technical college. I plan to go, if possible, to General Motors Institute of Technology. An automotive Engineer designs engine parts and cars. Starting pay is about two hundred a week.

Another important thing to me is my parents and my sister. I owe a lot to my parents, more than I can ever repay, but I think if I can be a success in business, that will help.

The Future The future consists of a good education, a good job and maybe a family. Technical college is a two to four year course. It is in Detroit, where most of the

cars are built. You spend part of your time in class learning and part of your time "on the job. training."

When I have had all the training necessary and have a good job, then I will start thinking about marriage and a family.

The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square With the new city street it has to wear

A number in. But what about the brook That held the house as in an elbow-crook?

I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength and impulse, having dipped a finger length

And made it leap my knuckly, having tossed a flower to try its currents where they crossed.

Robert Frost, “A Brook in the City”

Mike at age 10.

There are three sins of the body, four sins of the tongue, and

three sins of the mind.

The three sins of the body are murder, theft, and adultery .

The four sins of the tongue are lying, slander, abuse, and

idle talk.

The three sins of the mind are covetousness, hatred, and error.

All acts of living creatures become bad by ten things,

and by avoiding the ten things they become good.

Gautama Buddha

The following eulogy was given by Richard Hull at Mike's memorial service, St John's-Grace Episcopal Church, December 18, 1992. We tend to measure lives in terms of statistics, numbers, objective facts. And, there is a certain point to them which I do not wish to deny. But there are no families with 2.3 children, and all deaths are tragic, premature endings to lives with, but for their troubles, exciting possibilities. At the time of this tragic death of Michael Peter Mohr, of our sorrow, of our sense of loss, let us pause and take stock of what we still have of Mike and his life. You will find at the beginning of your pew a pad of lined paper. I am going to ask that each of you who knew Mike take a few moments this afternoon to write down some recollection--an incident, a funny story, an event, an impression-which you cherish and which can be cherished by us all. If you will also, indicate your name and address. These recollections will then be transcribed into a booklet of remembrances and you will eventually get a copy. If you prefer, send your reminiscences to Ginny and she will forward them for inclusion in Mike's memorial booklet As a stimulus, I am going to try to articulate some of the wonderful stories about Mike I have heard this week and over the years, and I will try to give some assessment of his character and his meaning to me. I first met Mike during the 1982-83 School year. We were parents of children enrolled in Calasanctius School, a School for bright, difficult children who didn't fit into other classrooms well, and there had been a crisis in the School's finances which prompted the headmaster and board to consider closing the upper portion of the School. Concerned parents and alumni became galvanized and began actively to participate in that community in which they had formerly been only passive consumers. Although from different professional worlds--I was an academic, Mike was a businessman--Mike and I found that we had a kind of shared vision of the School's importance, and personalities which complimented one another in a way that I can best describe with the word, "resonance." We resonated together, thought alike. During the spring of 1983, we formed a partnership and made a proposal to the School that, while the new headmaster attended to the academic program, we would undertake the financial management and development functions. At that time, Mike had just sold his share in the business, Design for Industry, and was looking for new activities to commit to. We formulated our plan as a proposal to the Board, asking it to put up seed money, and it was accepted. Our activities began during the summer. When the headmaster returned from his vacation on July 20, he announced that he didn't think

the School could survive because of its low enrollment (at that point there were only 95 enrollment contracts in hand). So late in the year, it was impossible to mount a proper search for a new headmaster, and so the Board asked me to undertake that role; I did so on the condition that Mike would become my business manager and would direct recruitment and development operations. Mike and I were a team for a little more than two years. Those were heady days. Mike and I shared a vision and an enthusiasm which made a very difficult job also very rewarding. He understood that his job was that of financial coordinator and disciplinarian, chiefly for my tendencies to excess but also for the many involved in the effort to bring the School to stability and health. He also undertook the task of generating ideas for increasing enrollment and income through fund-raising, and a substantial portion of his time was devoted to generating plans, testing their feasibility, and selecting those which the School would seek to enact. He also undertook the monumental task of reconstructing the financial history of the School, in the belief that one can't avoid the past's mistakes if one is ignorant of them. Partly because he was misunderstood, partly because his role as no-sayer frustrated people, and partly because he had acquired, through his research into the School's financial history, knowledge and views that some thought not to be in their interests, Mike was forced to resign early in the fall of 1985. He spent a number of months seeking another business opportunity, and finally settled on Debit One Mobile Bookkeeping as both a service that would be of great value to others and one which would provide him with the opportunity to occupy himself gainfully in an activity he could believe in. For a time, he hired one or another employee and expanded his force to two vans; however, these employees did not work out, and he settled on operating a single van himself. I renewed my business relationship with Mike when I acquired several pieces of rental property: Mike kept the books for those activities, and advised me in other financial matters. I looked forward to our monthly visits. Mike's doing the month's receipts and expenses was always an opportunity for fellowship, and our conversations ranged widely from politics to economics to personal acquaintances and events in our own lives. Mike was instrumental two summers ago both in introducing me to the pleasures of Canadian lake fishing and in helping me arrange my finances so that I could move into my present home. Some of my fondest memories are of fishing with Mike in the stone quarry lake in my back yard. This week I have been trying to remember incidents and stories that I could relate which would give a sense of my window on Mike's personality. And, I have listened to others as they reminisced. I want to tell a few stories, and intermingle them with some observations about Mike's character. Mike loved a joke, and I guess in his younger days, he loved a practical joke. I remember him telling me about one incident while he was a college student at

Alfred. He and a group of friends went out drinking. One of them had too much and fell asleep. The road house backed up to a railroad, and a freight train had paused on the siding behind the road house to let another train pass. The sleeping student was gently loaded into an open box car, and soon was off on an adventure. He apparently woke up some hours later, utterly bewildered and not knowing where he was. It took him a couple of days to make his way back to campus, and he never over-imbibed again! I have sometimes thought that Mike might have been that student, but he told the story with such relish for the joke that was played that it really makes no difference whether he was on the giving or receiving end. Mike had a thing about haircuts. His Mom tells me that one year his grandmother was nagging him to get a haircut because his hair was long, and his mom defended him by saying, "Mike is the same on the inside with or without hair." He and his mother had a relationship of great mutual respect. She and the rest of the family went to Florida, leaving Mike and his long hair behind. When they returned, he had completely shaved his head. He asked her whether she disapproved of his looks. She said, "Mike, I didn't say a thing, did I?" He said, "You didn't have to: it was written all over your face!" Many of us have probably had something of that same look, as in recent years Mike tended to prefer a single brush haircut once a year. One always knew that summer was here just by noting when Mike's hair suddenly shortened to half an inch or so. Mike's relationship to his wife, Ginny, is the stuff of which love stories are made. I understand that they met by chance at the wedding of mutual friends, and that it was love at first sight. Thereafter, I'm told, on her part it was Mike this and Mike that constantly. I don't know any of the details of their courtship, but his love for her was not a well-kept secret--despite all our efforts, love almost never is. He finally approached his mom one day and said, "Mom, I've something to tell you." She said, "Would you like me to tell you what it is?" Incredulously, Mike said, "What?" "You are going to marry Ginny." "How did you know?" he said in amazement. "I've only just decided." "Mike," she said, "It's been obvious for quite some time." I think Mike found Ginny’s love for him to be something incredible and a wonderful, undeserved piece of fabulous fortune. She stood at the very center of his being. His commitment to her was absolute, unwavering. Another love affair Mike has had was with his wonderful, large, extended family. Family get-togethers meant an enormous amount to him, and he reveled in his sense of knowledge and participation in the lives of his family on both sides. Many long hours of conversation when we fished together were spent by Mike sharing stories of these get-togethers, and of the personalities of his beloved relatives. They--you--must be very special persons indeed to have earned his respect and devotion.

Mike brought that same sense of absolute, unwavering commitment to all that he did. His dedication to Calasanctius was of that character, and, I believe, grew out of his enormous, unqualified love of his two fine children, J.P. and Sheila. His enthusiasm for Debit One bore the same stamp; his sense of the value and worth of the service that it provided his customers was one of gratitude that he could be a part of it. What he related to me of his experiences with Design for Industry also carried this sense of commitment and enthusiasm; and his legendary love of fishing manifested it over the many years of his annual trek north. I like to think that his fishing clothes symbolize this enthusiastic, total commitment to all he did. With that sense of dedication and commitment Mike also manifested a marvellous sort of innocence. He naturally assumed of anyone who was involved in one of his projects that he or she would have the same sense of commitment. When he found that commitment in someone else, a great affection would naturally evolve. But he was often disappointed when another turned out not to share his commitment and values. His otherwise astute judgment of character failed him from time to time because of this presumption of mutual enthusiasm and commitment which he extended to others. Those disappointments, when they occurred, were the source of much pain to him. Hand-in-hand with his sense of humor, his sense of commitment, and his innocence was an absolute sense of honesty. I never saw Mike call a spade anything but a spade. Sometimes his honesty got him into trouble with people. But he never betrayed anyone and never cheated anyone. Honesty meant for him doing absolutely the best job he could, taking responsibility for the results, working with a potent blend of realism and idealism at very difficult tasks. Let me illustrate this extraordinary character with a final story. At a number of points while we were managing the School, we came up short for cash to make payroll or meet other bills. Often, rather than put the School further in debt, Mike would simply line out his own name from the payroll. Sometimes I knew this and shared in the sacrifice, but often I would be preoccupied with administrative and curricular matters, and would not be fully cognizant of the financial situation. I think that Mike often sacrificed his own interests to insure that the money would be there for others. He made no fuss about it, and, indeed, often did it without anyone knowing. For him, being business manager meant undertaking the responsibility for seeing that the needs of other employees were met, even if it meant his own weren't. There hangs on the wall of my study a plaque with the following lines on it. As we come to share our recollections of Mike Mohr, in the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow, as we celebrate his life, these lines provide, I think, a measure of the man that is eloquent and true.

THAT MAN IS A SUCCESS

who has lived well, laughed often and loved much;

who has gained the respect

of intelligent men and the love of children;

who has filled his niche

and accomplished his task;

who leaves the world better than he found it,

whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem

or a rescued soul;

who never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty

or failed to express it;

who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had.

Such a person was Mike Mohr, my friend, my brother.

from Judy Tekatch, Mike's sister

This may be one of the most difficult things I have been asked to do. There are so many great memories, so many thoughts. My love for Mike is the second love after Daddy and before Ted. There are stories that some of you will remember from years ago: taffy pulls, making fudge, hot bread after school, taking lunch to the fields and looking for pheasant feathers, the rattlesnake bite from Letchworth Park. Probably one of the most famous stories was the one when we convinced Mike to go home wrapped in comic books with the story of being bit by a mouse after using the BB gun. Great memories of family parties and picnics, being the first ones to have a TV, the only ones to have a pool. Christmas, birthday, anniversary, any visit always with arms around each other. Christmas was always super and none of us will ever forget the sharing of the pepperoni cutter. Never will I forget the joy of having a brother and a friend like Mike. I will love you always.

Mike, Judy and their parents 1987

from Bobette R. Hurd

Mike was a valued member of the East Aurora Class of 1960 and will be missed by all. He was always friendly and interested in other classmates, especially during our reunions When I was talking to Liz Fox (another classmate), she mentioned that Mike was always a gentleman. The last time she saw him was in a restaurant. Mike took the time to come over to her table and not only say "hi," but also inquire about others in our class. My personal memories go back to our early high-school days. If no one else mentioned the story of Mike falling out of the car, I wonder if it shouldn't be included. Mike (young age) had gotten out of the car to watch while the gas was pumped and when he got back into the car the door did not completely close. As they drove away, Mike fell out and was seriously hurt. That, as I remember, was the beginning of the friendship between the Mohr’s and Dr. Donovan's family. I also remember that Mike used to eat ketchup sandwiches--just ketchup and bread. I can see him standing at the sink in the kitchen on Buffalo Road looking into the dishwater by using a glass as a scope.

from an anonymous friend of Sheila's at Nardin Academy In the Junior Year Father-Daughter Dance picture of Mr. Mohr and Sheila, he was very kind and intelligent yet very down to earth. A great and caring father to Sheila and J.P., supportive of Sheila, a true friend to his daughter, a great man, approachable, friendly, everything one could want in a true friend and father.

from Carole Lynn Kohlbacher

Mike is my cousin, and the best memories I have of him are of our childhood together. We had loving Grandparents that would have our families gather for meals on special occasions. I recall Mike with ketchup on almost everything. Also, many recollections are of long rides to and from East Aurora, especially Christmas Nights. When you are a little child, everything seems longer, deeper, higher and larger. I remember the summers of cleaning and painting the swimming pool so my Mom would say we would have the reward of using it. Although I knew my Aunt and Uncle probably appreciated our work, but would never have said we could not swim if we hadn't helped. Other vivid memories are of walking through a field of very high grass to Pages' house: They were Mike's neighbors, although I don't know if I ever met the people. We would swing on their big swing or see who could run under it while the others swang. We did take chances and once Mike got his head split open on a bolt of the hammock all we cousins were sitting and swinging too high on. I have a good feeling about my last conversation with Mike and he will always be a wonderful part of my past and family remembrances. With love.

from an anonymous friend of Sheila's at Nardin Academy Mr. Mohr was the loving father of Sheila, who admired him greatly. He leaves many warm and valuable memories to his family.

from Bob Felton Your husband and father was, without exception, my best friend. Although we had seen each other only a few times over the past 21 years since I moved to the West Coast we were like brothers from the time we entered out teens until our late 20s. We attended East Aurora High School together and throughout those years your grandparent's home was my second home. I spent many hours swimming in their pool and evenings playing cards or games with Mike and Judy and their parents. In 1960 I went away to college and Mike remained home to attend school at Bryant & Stratton in Buffalo and work with his dad in the food brokerage business. The next year Mike followed me to Alfred State Tech. I sponsored him to become a fraternity

brother and many wonderful memories of that experience are still with me. One was an absolutely spur of the moment weekend trip we took with two other fraternity brothers to see the Kentucky Derby. That was in May of 1962 and I still have the program from Churchill Downs racetrack. The 4 of us went in Mike's Chevy station wagon and two slept and two drove. We did all of the things I'm sure he as a father would have disapproved of his own children doing but did we ever have fun! Another similar episode was in 1968. The very day I was discharged from the Army I joined Mike and 6 other guys and went on a 2 week trip to the Bahamas. We drove to Florida, non-stop, and then rented a 45 foot cabin cruiser and went to many of the islands. None of us were sailors and I'm sure Mike has told you of how close we all probably came to perishing in the first hurricane of the season. The memories of that trip will always remain with me.

Although I have two brothers of my own, when I was first married in 1968 there was no question who I would ask to be my best man. It was Mike Mohr.

I could probably ramble on for many pages relating great times I shared with your husband and father. I am sure that I will never again have a friend so dear and I wanted you to know this. I don't pretend that my loss of him is anything near what each of you feels but my return trips to Western New York will never again be quite the same without him. He was a wonderful friend and a fine human being. My thoughts are with you.

Mike, Sheila and J. P. at Epcot Center April 1989

from Burt Howell When Dick Hull asked me at the wake for specific vignettes about Mile's life that would show his character, I was at a complete loss. Nothing came to mind and I felt badly about it. Then, after the service on Friday I went back to work and a whole flood of memories filled my mind. I spent the next hours. trying to work but constantly thinking of the trips Mike and I made together. During most of those trips something went wrong. Today those problems would be major obstacles and put a damper on the whole vacation. Back then we were younger, more flexible, and subconsciously geared to having a good time. I could write volumes about those trips--Watkins Glen Grand Prix in the rain and mud, The Bahamas, Little Abitibi, Cobokonk and so on--but probably the best example was the trip to Montreal. That year--1967, I believe--the World's Fair was being held in Montreal. What an Opportunity! Mike, John Sheehan and I decided to go and make a boat trip out of it. We had 10 days, plenty of time. We would take the Barge Canal east past Rochester, head north to Lake Ontario, and then across to Montreal. That should take two to two and a half days, leaving us five to six days at the Fair. So, one morning before the sun was up our parents dropped us off at Mike's boat and we were on our way. If anyone had asked us what our Stated Goal was we would have said, "the World's Fair in Montreal." A half hour or so later we entered the canal system in Tonawanda and had to slow to six miles per hour, probably because of all the boats moored there. A few hours later (still at six miles per hour) we began to think, and rightly so, that the whole canal had this speed limit. What a bummer! Shortly after the series of locks in Lockport we met up with a man who traveled the canal quite frequently delivering yachts for a company in Rochester. We got to talking and he told us that since he used the canal so much he got to know the locker keepers and managed to run at about twenty-five miles per hour. We could follow him and make good time. We were saved. Unfortunately we were towing my small sailing dinghy with all our fishing gear in it and, at that speed, it began to porpoise and take on water. Finally some one noticed that it was about to go under for the last time and we had to stop. Our guide and rescuer was no longer in sight. It would not have taken a genius to figure out that at our present speed it was mathematically impossible to get to Montreal and back in the allotted time, let alone see the Fair. So we did what any self-respecting adventurer would do. We had another beer and completely changed our plans. In the end our True Goal was achieved, both here and on the other trips. We enjoyed each other's company to the fullest and formed wonderful bonds and memories that would last a lifetime. We cannot recreate those trips but perhaps we can learn from them. Perhaps the only real value of a Stated Goal is that it starts us

on a journey. Whether we attain that goal is rarely as important as how we conduct the trip. Mike seemed to intuitively know that.

from Mrs. Colleen Coniglio, Nardin Academy

I was grateful and interested to hear that Sheila's father would not only help her with her picture taking for Kaleidoscope, Nardin Academy's school newspaper, but also encouraged her talent and creativity in photography.

from Mary King My first memory of Mike was when Gina and he got married. I always remember him after the reception was over. He came into that room and said we have to leave now. I always remember saying to him, "Why do you have to rush, you will have her for the rest of your days." God love him, that was when Jimmy was so sick, little did I think I would have him around for such a short time. It was Uncle Mike that was there again for me to help out with my children, Suzanne, Kevin and Patricia. Especially Kevin, who from the start overtook Mike and looked up to him as a brother, a father, especially a friend. I remember Kevin who was just 10 at the time and was making Confirmation. He found out Uncle Mike's birthday was the same month as his, and as you may have guessed he asked him to be his Sponsor. This made Mike feel proud that he was a great big part of this family and was so loved, especially to pick him so far away. Never a day has gone by that there hasn't been someone in our family mentioning Mike. He will always be remembered, as a great helper in our time of need, especially for me, to have my Kevin who needed someone at the time and even until now still needs someone to confide in. I thank you, Mike, for being everything that their father was, helping through their teen years and being a father image until the end. You'll always be remembered and loved.

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,

A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness- Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Edward Fitzgerald

Mike and Ginny 1990

from Suzanne Gargulio

My first memory of Uncle Mike was when Aunt Ginia had her shower and they were so happy together that everyone was trying hard to overlook the fact that Uncle Mike wasn't Catholic. Everyone liked him immediately, especially his big bushy red hair. Later on that year Uncle Mike and Aunt Ginia took me to Buffalo where I expected to see the same wandering around the towns. I fit perfectly in the back seat of Uncle Mike's Triumph. We went to the State fair, where Uncle Mike indulged me on every ride including the G-Force, Tilt-a-Whirl and The Car Derby. I learned much much later he really didn't care for either but he felt that's what an Uncle should do. After that many vacations were spent with the Mohr’s. Kevin, Patricia and I were invited every summer to go fishing in Canada. There was always room for one more. Uncle Mike was a truly great man who had so much love and patience in his heart that he never raised his voice in anger to anyone. He always had a great story to tell, enough time to play cards and a big hug for everyone and anyone.

from Cathee Toolan

Mike was such a nice person. He was caring and understanding and always offered his help. He will truly be missed.

from Doug Sweet Imagine our surprise when upon returning home from our honeymoon in September, 1973, we glanced out our kitchen window and saw a statue of St. Anthony nestled near some shrubs in the backyard—a backyard that had been statue-less one week earlier. We looked tentatively at my religious in-laws, there to greet us with St. Anthony? They looked back—just as expectantly. Once it was determined that no one knew where our new friend had come from, we decided to have a closer look. The statue proved to be a substantial work, standing about five feet tall on a square yellow brick pedestal. A concrete base had been poured to support its considerable weight. Actually, if it had been whole (one forearm and hand was missing) and if one liked that sort of thing and the location, it would have been tolerable. As it was, that white statue staring up at my bedroom window in the night had to go! Preparatory to dismantling the statue a thorough inspection of the ground was conducted to look for clues as to our benefactors' identities. The aftermath from what must have been a fairly involved and time-consuming unloading and construction operation consisted solely of a beer can tab and one well-concealed cigarette butt (Philip Morris Filter). Several people we knew drank beer, but only one smoked that brand... .

Despite the honor bestowed upon our household, I began demolition efforts within the week. Quite a few hours were spent with a sledge and garden cart in this manner. Every once in a while, wringing wet with perspiration and weak-kneed from swinging that sledge, I'd look up to see my neighbor watching me from his yard. Was that a smile on his lips? (Turned out he helped pour the concrete.) Dare I tell you this thing had anchoring pipes running down into the ground? Anyway, the many pieces of the statue were eventually disposed of and things pretty much returned to normal except that we weren't really sure who did the deed. This became obvious a couple of months later, however, when, at a house party, we were presented with a belated "wedding present. " Turns out it was St. Anthony's missing arm and hand! We were a little embarrassed to report that it was the largest part of St. Anthony remaining. Anyway, we all had a good laugh! Turns out the statue had been extra at the Howells' recently purchased house and was moved to East Aurora by pickup truck. It was installed by at least four conspirators (Mike, Burt, Mark Seeber and Martin "Harvey" Schneckenburger). They'd gone to a lot of trouble and apparently had a hell of a good time. I'm convinced Mike was the prime mover in the St. Anthony statue caper—even now I can picture the enjoyment and satisfaction it must have brought him.

While this is my favorite story involving Michael, there are others. Next time we get together ask me about the Girl Scouts of Coboconk or Mike's chain saw artistry.

from Ab and Georgie Carter, former owners of the fishing camp at Crow Lake in Canada

Ab was remembering the time Mike was" frogging " and lost the car keys. He said to Ab, "Oh, boy, if Ginnie didn't bring her set of car keys, we're all here for the summer!" (Ab's first minor stroke {Ginny Mohr adds: "Of course, when we went up to Canada in the summer we were usually accompanied by at least two or three other members of my family, for a total of six or seven. We never went alone: thus Ab's 'stroke. "'})

Randy was talking about the time they got a flat on the truck and no spare and they got caught drinking beer. Mike was the only one with identification and had the ticket made out to him{Ginny adds: "I think Mike never paid that ticket. . . . "} Mike in his yellow slicker that we threatened to burn for it seemed every time he put it on, it did rain!

Mike at Crow Lake June 1984

from Cathy Ann Toolan

The first time I ever went fishing was with Uncle Mike in Canada - Crow Lake.

We were up before the sun. Though still half asleep, I remember being on the lake in the cool summer morning as the sun rose. Uncle Mike took us to one of his special spots, helped set up our rods, and we were ready. I caught a fish that day, although it wouldn't have won any awards for size. But more than a fish was caught that day; it's an experience I will never forget.

These are a part of the lasting impressions I have of Uncle Mike: up with the

sun, on the shimmering water, preparing to cast our lines as the sun rose, in the beauty and stillness of nature; and there's Uncle Mike sitting in the boat in the serenity of the time and the intensity of the endeavor.

Mike Summer 1988

from Kevin King

My memory of Uncle Mike was when we went fishing up in Canada, at the old

fishing camp. Fishing was great that day; we did what we always did: fish and drink the Blues. One night we were sitting playing cards, when there was a knock at the door. Two big fat Harley chicks came over to ask us to have a drink at their cabin, so Uncle Mike and I looked at each and said, "Sure! Why not?!" We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into.

We walked in on a very heavy drink party of Harley chicks. We sat around B-

Sing and getting very drunk. One girl sounded and looked just like Mrs. Poole from the old Valerie's Family show. The night went on and the girls got uglier. Uncle Mike got up to go to the bathroom. That's when I heard him talking to one of the girls in another room who was asking for me to come in. Uncle Mike came out laughing and pointing to me to go in the next room. I shook my head and started laughing until he persuaded me to go in.

When I got there the ugliest girl was lying on the bed. In the background I heard

Uncle Mike say, "Take good care of my nephew." Nothing really happened that night, thank God, because the next morning I saw this girl in a sober state of mind.

That has got to be the best memory of my fishing partner. I am going to miss

going up fishing and drinking with you. I hope they have a lake where you're going so you can enjoy the fun that we had down here.

Your fishing partner for life.

from Patricia King

I have many memories of Uncle Mike, none bad. Uncle Mike treated me like

one of his kids, allowing me for years to go on his summer vacation with him and his family. He taught me to do so many things and the best was being able to enjoy fishing just as much as he did. He showed me how to bait my hook and remove the fish and even filet it--nothing I would have dreamed of doing if it was not for him.

Uncle Mike has asked me many times over the past couple of years if I was

going to Canada with him. I couldn't go for one reason or another, but now I wish I had one more summer with him so I could experience more memories with you, Uncle Mike.

Mike and Ginny Spring 1989

from Giles H. Meyer of Huntington Beach, California

Please accept this short note to express my total shock and saddened feelings. During the short years that I knew Mike, he was a man of strength, honor and

love for his family. I can say from a personal standpoint that Mike Mohr never in his life treated me with less than friendship and respect. To my knowledge, he never asked for something that he did not deserve or had worked for, or was due him.

I have no way of knowing just what such a loss may mean to each of you. May

Our Lord in heaven bring Michael to His Chest with love and give each of you the strength to go on, emulating Mike Mohr's virtues through your personal actions.

The Mohr Four July 1970

from Barbara Fisher

I want you to know that our thoughts and prayers are with you, Sheila and J.P. at

this most difficult time. Ginny, you are a very strong, positive person and a wonderful mother. .

Somehow you will find the strength to endure this loss. The last time I saw Mike we were at 7–11 and spoke about our children. I

mentioned what an Irish beauty Sheila had become. He smiled and said how proud of her he was. He spoke of J. P. 's independence and how hard it was for him to see them growing away—leaving the house—when we talked it was the second week of College classes.

He was a wonderful man. Brian and I will miss him.

Mike, Shiela, and J. P. about 1990

from Robin Wolfgang, daughter of long-time next door neighbors

I don't know how to tie all my thoughts about Mr. Mohr together except to say

that I look back on my youth and can easily say that he played a big part in my world. You all did! You are my second family--the place I could go when I just wanted to hang out. You always welcomed me with open arms—and a full plate of food.!!

Mr. Mohr was the calmer, more relaxed, easy going father. If something went

wrong and my parents weren't home I'd call and he'd either tell me what to do or come over and fix it. I remember thinking when my parents went away--if anything is going to go wrong Mr. Mohr is only next door, so it would be all right.

Always fun, Mr. Mohr and I played more games than I can remember: shooting

each other with water guns, with water balloons, with the hose, and me always emerging the victor, legitimately or not! The games of pig, horse, and around the world. Mr. Mohr didn't disprove the theory that white men can't jump, but he did have a good hook shot. I always got him on the backwards shot until I think J. P. or Sheila learned it and it lost its thrill. We played basketball until it got dark many summer nights. I think we even played by the illumination of the yard lights (which weren't as bright as they are now).

The Mohrs were always there for me. I even remember they came to hear me

sing at City Honors and even came to see me in a Horse Show. My 16th birthday party at Oliver's would not have been the same without them.

I took Driver's Education at the school in the park—Calasanctius—merely

because he spoke so highly of the school. I used to get there early so I could go visit him in his office. My friend and I thought we were so cool to know an administrator.

For some reason most of my memories revolve around the summer time

(incidentally, I have lived most recently in warmer climates). Besides the other sports, summer always held our usual conversations over the fence. The smell of the barbecue, outdoor meals with plates blowing away and dogs begging under 'the table, Mr. Mohr's shredded jeans shorts, his army-like hair cut, the big August fishing trip and the planting of the big harvest with more squash than one knew what to do with—except Mrs. Mohr who made bread (which I love by the way!). In any case, Mr. Mohr also claimed to play tennis early in the morning. I played varsity tennis and always wanted to challenge him. I think we played once but we never did play the big match. I think he was scared of me. Actually I think he beat me that one time we played but I have since suppressed it.

"Robin, it's time to come home!" I don't think I ever came next door that I didn't

get yelled at to come home or get a phone call saying pretty much the same thing. I think the reason I didn't want to leave was that I was always having so much fun. When I was younger I played with J.P. and Sheila but as I grew I sorta "played" with

Mr. Mohr. His quick wit and general sense of humor while usually used to pick on me also made me feel loved. He always made me laugh and also a little bit defensive. But I loved it.

When I wanted to get my Dad a new dog for Father's Day I wanted it to be a

surprise. I called Mr. Mohr and asked him who to call about stray dogs. Once I located one that sounded like what I was looking for, I asked Mr. Mohr if he would go with me because I had no idea how to tell if the dog was O.K. to take home. He said yes and we set a date. As it turned out I had to tell my Dad and Mr. Mohr did not have to go. But the point is he would have gone anywhere I asked -- he was the giving, concerned, patient man who I often wished was my Dad.

I remember him teasing me about guys. I know that he was psyched I got my

braces off before my junior prom. I remember him taking pictures with my parents in the backyard. I know he was laughing at me when I came to the door late one night with a date in tow because I had been locked out. Further, I always trusted him for directions. I remember him teasing me about the time I asked him for directions to Crystal Beach. He knew I was going to go drink because the age was lower over there. It was easier to ask him directions than anyone else. He gave them straight and easy. He just never let me forget it.

I took a few day trips with the family. I remember most of all going to pick out

the Christmas tree. I loved going out to the suburbs and getting the tree, then getting it in the house and setting it up. It was great to get out all the decorations and place them on the tree. I didn't get to do it every year but I loved it. It was a chance to do something that I couldn't do at home and to feel a part of the happy family at a cheery time of the year.

I'm sure there are many more stories and events to remember. Mr. Mohr was a

great friend and mentor. I'm so glad that the Hamiltons moved away! Please know that I will always remember only good things about Mr. Mohr. I

wish I could be with you all at this time. I definitely am there in spirit. I guess it is time for me to say goodbye and I love you all.

from Patsy McDonough

It is so hard to think of Mike not being here in body with us anymore, but he will

be with us in mind and spirit all the time. He was one of the most loving, caring and sharing persons in this whole wide

world. I can't remember how many times I came up to Gina and Mike’s house full of

hurt and despair, and through their own love and concern before long they had my mind at peace.

Mike knew I loved Niagara Falls, and no matter what the season he would be

sure to take me up to see them. He took such an interest in all our family and made it a point to talk to each and everyone. He took all our concerns and fears and anxieties to heart and tried to reassure us that everything would work out. (How right he was.)

We will miss you terribly, Mike, but I'm sure you know that All our prayers will

be with you and Gina and Sheila and J.P. Love always.

from Helen Toolan My memories of Mike are many, but Mike as a businessman always was happy

when I came to Buffalo and spent money. His favorite statement was, "Helping the Buffalo economy grow!" Goodbye, Mike, we'll miss you.

from Mike and RJ. Uncle Mike was a good sport. We all had fun with him at the graduation party.

from Fr. Richard S. Wyzykiewicz, Sch. P., Provincial of the Piarist Father's USA Province, former Assistant Headmaster of Calasanctius. School:

Reflecting back on the many occasions of simply sharing ideas and opinions

about life with Mike Mohr has made this letter less than easy to compose. Two memories that mean much to me, and I hope to his family and friends, refer to Mike's commitment to truth and to his familial love and carmg.

On one occasion, among many, Mike and I were discussing, in his office at

Calasanctius School, the current situation of the school and the history of the relationship of the Piarist Fathers to the school. In the early 1960s the Piarist Fathers had handed over the ownership and operation of Calasanctius School to a board of trustees. Over the years much discussion had occurred about the transition of ownership. At the time that Mike and I had our discussion the Provincial of the Piarist Fathers' USA Province was seeking to have some documentation of the history of the Piarists' relationship to Calasanctius. Because Mike had worked to re-mortgage the school buildings and property in order to help the school financially, he had access to the documentation. As Assistant Provincial I asked Mike to give me a copy of the document, which he did. His action enabled the Piarists to come to terms with their past, their roots and their responsibilities. Because of Mike's commitment to truth much rumor and misunderstanding among the Piarists was put to rest. I am forever grateful for Mike Mohr's understanding and his help to us Piarists.

On a separate occasion I had the joy of spending an evening at Mike's home. He

and Ginny and the children shared this little bit of time and space with me. Mike's warmth and his love and care for his family were very evident that evening. As we sat in the living room there was the definite atmosphere of welcome and acceptance. I can still picture the smile on Mike's face and his great sense of humor. To make another human being know that they are welcome in your life is a beautiful trait, and Mike had it.

May the Lord give him eternal peace and bless the Mohr Family.

He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain,

And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again;

From the contagion of the world’s slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn

A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain.

from Adonais

by Percy Bysshe Shelley