On the path from Vernon to Giverny, 2007.



Love said to me. 

Thomas Salem Manganaro

Hi all, I just got back from visiting Michael [in hospice November 14, 2011]. First I went to the house, where Pam was, gave her a long hug as she sobbed, happy to see me, and sat around in the kitchen with their friend Jeanne who was visiting from NY and staying with Pam. I just saw Alex and Jacob quickly, they were running in and out. Then I followed Pam to the hospice center, and was able to sit with Michael one-on-one (Pam left us there) for at least 30-40 minutes. First thing I did was read the two letters to Michael. He laughed at Dad's story about the trip to Glastonbury, and after reading mom's letter, he said, "It required some effort and diligence to find postcards at each location." I told him how Anthony has been eager to hike the Appalachian trail, and remembered recently how we hiked up the "blue" trail in High Point to the top, and Michael said, "Well...Maine or Georgia?" Michael said he remembered we would take a few steps in each direction. He also remembered dad telling us at 7 a.m. after camping (maybe chastising us), "Guys, this is not TV". Michael's memory for these kinds of things is spot-on; I told him he was talking clearly and coherently, and he said, "Good, I appreciate that." Of course he talks slowly and softly, and I often missed things he said. I think I caught him at a good moment though. He remembered about my burnt foot, and how Dad was en route from the west coast at the time; Michael added that "We never thought you were going to make it," and remembered buying prescriptions for me regarding ear/antibiotic problems. I reminded him how Rania was doing theater stuff in Chicago, and Anthony was doing an English PhD like me, and he said, "Amazing" (he had remembered us telling him last time we visited); I told him genetic determinism must be strong, and he offered the anthropologist's answer that being around certain kinds of people must have had a strong effect. I told him my earliest memories were those first years in Highland Park, because I was just 2 coming over from Hawaii, and Michael remembered how "Rania was still in diapers." Later I was reminiscing also about Marjorie as a prevalent friend early on, and he said, "Your parents managed to surround you guys with the best people." I told him I was really glad to be able to babysit Jacob some years later, as a kind of reciprocation, etc. I told him my earliest memory of him was with Sasha, though I didn't remember much about him, so Michael told me about how he was a foster child he took on (age 14-16), who was a good companion because of his "affinity to nature," but that it was mainly a comfort for Michael . . . . At one point he said, "I feel like I have just been tiptoeing down memory lane." I asked him if he had been in contact with George Levine, he said he had written a beautiful letter, and that revisiting memories with George were almost "too strong" and difficult to handle. He asked me what I was doing later that day, I said I would go back and read and read some more, and then do some more reading; he asked what I was reading, I told him Beckett, Heidegger; he said, "Ah, light reading." After I unsuccessfully tried to snag a nurse at one point, I told him I wasn't a very good hospital assistant; he said, "Not your discourse;"  I said, "No, my discourses are much less practical"; he said, "Classic Manganaro." I asked him what he remembered about the Lebanese family, he said he remembered Paul taking one of Michael's adventure stories (though he may have been referring to our canoe trip) and turning the story into "a version of 'Heart of Darkness.'" I told him it was odd coming upon academic works as a grad student by people that I knew personally; he thought that was interesting, said "Different matrices." Michael has a birdfeeder outside the window. He looks extremely thin and sick. At one point, he said he was getting tired, I stood up, then he started to lose bearings, saying, "I don't know where I am," but then I looked at him and said, "It was really nice to be able to remember these things with you, Michael," and he said, "Yes, yes," and I think he came back. Then I got a phone message from Dad, and talked to him on the phone, and I could tell Michael was hearing Dad's voice through the phone. He said it would be difficult to talk on the phone, but I relayed Dad's message; I could tell it meant a lot. Pam returned, big smile, big hugs, she was extremely grateful I was there, very very warm. I said goodbye, and the goodbye was in the context of "Come back and visit, we'll be here for a while." I may return and visit, it doesn't seem clear what the timeline is. I could tell Michael was very glad to be able to talk and reminisce. There may be more that I'm forgetting. Pam will be putting up both letters on her blog. I would like to return and see them; I feel naturally close, and it feels important and powerful, and it was nice to see Michael's personality and memories still shine through.

At Carolina Beach August, 2010.

Rania Salem Manganaro

About Michael.  I don't have any particular memories to share that are any different than the ones that you [Lisa Salem] might remember.  For example, going to his house on Halloween after Thomas burned his foot...or his true care and compassion towards me while I was experiencing my unfounded fears while canoeing.  The treasure of receiving a series of golden paged encyclopedia books.  Tales of faraway lands.  

Most importantly though, I'd like to emphasize the lasting impact Michael had on me (and Anthony and Thomas) through the fact that when I think about him I am overcome with the largest swell of warmth, joy, and trust.  The rarest thing is that Michael, as an adult, treasured us (Anthony, Thomas, and Rania) as--what seemed to us like---friends.  I always remember thinking of Michael as an owl.  This wise and powerful force, sometimes cooky and awe-inspiring, but a staple to our household.  The ease, pace, and patience to which he carried himself has left a lasting affect on me.  As I grew older I began to realize that these qualities are rare for adults.  Maybe growing up I didn't even see Michael as an adult...but just..."a michael".  And I continued to see all those qualities, with Pam and Alex and Jacob throughout our time together.  I think when kids are growing up, one of the greatest tragedies is a lack of encouragement and acknowledgment of fears...but Michael would come over to play with us, or read with us, and open our minds in one way or another testing and encouraging the boundaries of a our imagination (obliterating any fears of "failure").  Michael.  Adventures.  Storytelling.  FUN!  And look at us now.  Anthony, Thomas, and I's most important qualities sometimes seem to be those that were nurtured by Michael.  This urgency to play and explore and ultimately EXPERIENCE LIFE...FULLY.  Take it in and love it...all the details...from the grand stories to the little birds in the trees.  These are the things that shape people.  And I treasure it.

2007

Michael & Jacob on the train from Paris 2007.

Nancy Linn

Michael & Nancy Linn at Breadmen's in Chapel Hill, 2011.

When Mike was in India he greatly enjoyed the spicy Indian food so when he was a student at Reed College, he cooked for himself that Indian food.  On his way from Oregon to Connecticut to visit family and friends, he traveled through Canada.  The border agents came close to jailing this tall, skinny, long-haired kid – carrying “drugs” (his little packets of the needed Indian spices!)  A real hippie.

Holly answered the door here in Oswego (NY) and came rushing back to tell me, “Mom, one of the Beatles is at the front door.”  Yep— it was Mike. 

Love to you both –

Nancy Linn

 Out to Golden Coral with Susan Linn & John Jenkins Valentine's 2011.

Harriet Moffatt

To Mike

You are my big brother.  We are from the same place.  You are older, and a boy.  You are smart and skilled.  I have always looked up to you and wanted you to notice me.

Companion of my childhood: frog-catcher, star-gazer,  Tarzan-vine-swinger.  You were always out ahead of me somewhere:  building, doing, being clever, using your words, traveling.  You helped write a math book while still in your teens, you corresponded with a Viking researcher, you hiked and biked the length of New England before it was cool to do so.  You could cook, do calculus, build a paper and balsa wood  hot-air balloon (and fly it and crash it), and of course you drove the family car before I did.  You visited different churches until you found the one you wanted to join.  You became and stayed close friends with some of your teachers.

Your appetite is prodigious.  You used to cook a second dinner for yourself, before going to bed, back in high school days.  You were always partial to staying up late then sleeping thru part of the day.

We have the same hands and feet.

You are funny and witty, also as well-spoken and well-written as anyone I know: a true man of letters.  You have pursued comedians all your life –and were always ready to replay a Peter Sellers movie, a Monty Python video, or a Woody Allen favorite.  Before that, there was Sid Caesar, Jackie Gleason, James Thurber, Tom Lehrer, the Threepenny Opera, Spike Jones…I think you craved the balance that comedy gave to the darkness that accompanied you for most of your life.

When you were at Oxford, England studying, I came to visit, and we ate the hottest food I have ever had at a  curry place…You took me punting on the little river that ran thru the town, we drank mead cider, then I illegally spent the night in your all-boys dorm, in the morning I had to leave by climbing over a high wall with broken glass encrusted in the top, WITH my suitcase in hand!  Another time that year you visited me at the home of my French “family” in Normandy, and in one dinner you cleaned out their cheese plate, which was intended to feed the family for at least a week!

Before Alex and Jacob, you parented Alan and Sasha.  I would see you hand out and play and joke with the, take them on hiking canoeing and skiing adventures and later to the far side of the world for larger adventures.  You cooked for them and there was incessant conversation.  I believe you once said that maybe you should have taught sixth grade instead of college.  Except: you hadn’t a clue what to do with girls!

You spent 15 years after college getting advanced degrees.  We lamented that you might remain a student forever!  But then you joined the Rutgers faculty, for a distinguished career as an Anthropology Professor.  You lived in a hut in an Untouchable village in Tamilnadu, India, then later studied these same people by commuting from Madras on a motor bike.  You wrote a book about them, then later, a popular anthropological book about New Jersey college students, doing the research by going undercover in the dorm, passing for a college student yourself!  I heard you speak on this book in Amherst, Mass.  The girls in the audience wanted to know why all your anecdotes in the book were about boys.

Books: you love them.  You told me that, as a kid, after reading your first chapter book, you felt as though you had just gotten a key to THE WORLD.

Diwali 2008

Eric Wenzel

I met Michael briefly in at Shehaqua in PA.  It was an important time for me as I was preparing to launch a program in India aimed at reducing religious-related violence.  I didn't expect to meet someone at Shehaqua who not only had some understanding of Indian culture, but was familiar with the Swaminarayan sect in which had been the victim of violence. That was Michael Moffatt.  It meant a lot to me to meet someone who understood what I was endeavoring to do.

I traveled to India three times soon after that meeting and worked with both Hindus and Muslims from Gujarat and other areas.  Because of Michael sharing his knowledge with me, he had a small part in all of that.  There are people you meet briefly and forget.  There are other people you meet briefly and they somehow leave a lasting impression or leave something with you forever. 


Fond regards,

Eric

Robert Pickell

Dear Michael,

It has been awhile since I last saw you and spoke with you, yet I still

have fond memories of you. I remember when you first came to family camp

many years ago. You watched everything very closely and spoke with many

people.

I still remember you offering to help without being asked and staying

after meals to help clean up when you could.

I have heard that you physical body has weakened and not improving. It

just reminds us all of how transient this physical life as we know it

is. We all experience love, sorrow, joy, pain and longing in our lives.

Many have asked and wondered about what is beyond the physical. I am not

going to get religious on you. Instead I will speak from my heart.

There is one thing I am very clear and sure of. Love is what creates

life. Our birth is due to the love our parents shared and the result was

us. Our Children are the result of the love we share with our spouse.

The other thing I know is that Love dwells in the realm of the heart,

and in that place time has no meaning. The Love we experience as a child

from our parents hug is still as fresh and strong as long ago. The first

kiss you ever shared with your spouse is as strong and passionate now as

then. The Joy and hope you feel for your children when they came into

this world still burns as deep and strong as it always did.

The Realm of Heart and the love that is there knows no end, or any limit

of time. I can not say what lays beyond the physical for sure, but I can

say since Love is the creator of our physical life it does NOT end when

the physical ends. Love and ones heart continues on to a new horizon.

Michael I know you in my heart as one that seeks for true love and

offers to others the love he has found. You do not attempt to hold the

Joy and happiness to yourself but rather you try and share it to all you

meet. No change of your physical body will ever change that, or my

relationship to you.

The most sincere and honest blessing I can offer you is one that you

find true love and joy where ever life may take you or any journey you

may embark on. Rest assured that my love and that of many others will

always be with you forever in the Realm of the Heart we have shared

together.

With a Loving Heart

Robert Pickell

Tomoe Mull

Dear Michael,

I hope you are at ease in God's love and peace.

As you lay in His care, Don and I are thinking of you and remembering the happy times

that we shared together as a family.

When you lived in Highland Park, Pam held a women's meeting and it was there that I met

you for the first time.

When you lived in Hightstown, you invited our family to celebrate God's Day together in

the afternoon.  I will never forget the delicious meal that you had prepared for us. I

have always remembered your sweet potato casserole with pineapple, which I try to make

every Thanksgiving, but can never quite get to taste exactly the same.  You were an

amazing cook and host.  Your son Jacob was so cute and was also a good host to ask

everyone about what we needed.

 I also remember when  we took a walk together at Rutger's Gardens.  You had a very

smart dog (sorry I forgot her name).  I was amazed at how she fetched the log that you

threw in the pond and was able to bring it back to you so quickly.  I thought to myself,

how untrained my own dog Angel was, and marveled at how incredibly clever and well

trained you had taught your dog. After that, a student who had recognized you, approached

us. The young man clearly respected you and recalled your class with admiration. It was

then that I realized you were a great teacher, whether it was training your dog, or

engaging students within a classroom.

Two summers ago, when True Parents spoke at the Manhattan Center, Don and I had the

privilege of having you and Pam stay at our house in New Jersey. It was at this time that

we were finally able to get to know each other more. You shared many stories about how

your father was a missionary to India and about your interest in nature and humanity. We

were able to grow closer together as a family and I will always look back on these

memories with fondness and my deepest affections.

May God be with you and bless your family always. We love you.

Donald and Tomoe Mull

Paige West

I started the Ph.D. program at Rutgers in 1995 and Michael taught my first anthropology class there. He taught the "proseminar" where each faculty member came in and discussed her or his work and then we did some readings in the person's field and discussed the professor's work and the readings. Michael was fantastic in the class. He was so generous towards his colleague's scholarship - helping us to find the value and worth in everything from the study of gender in China to the study of human evolution through primate jaws. In that class he had a gift for making things one was not interested in both interesting and seemingly important. It seems to me that this is connected to Michael's extraordinary sense of the field of anthropology as one that encompasses human lives across time and space. We all say that lots, that that is what we examine as a field, but Michael was able to show us, using our faculty's work, how this really is the case.

Michael also told me, as a graduate student who was just learning about social theory and reading Foucault and other for the first time, that to be a "theory person" I was going to have to become a more careful reader and writer. He was correct and this has helped me throughout my career.

Other Michael memories:

I loved Sadie the dog. She would sit in the window when I met with Michael, he was my initial advisor in the anthropology department (as I had come to work with someone in Human Ecology and needed an anthropology person that first year). She was so sweet and Michael was so gentle and sweet with her. 

The day that one of his colleagues said something truly insane in the Proseminar and Michael started laughing and disguised it as a cough so as not to offend the colleague. I think of this just about every time someone I work with says something insane in a faculty meeting and I keep myself from laughing. 

His first book - Coming of Age - and reading it and teaching it for the first time. 

I have so many warm feelings towards you Michael. 

Paige 

Haydee Ching

Michael,

Our boys and I have fond memories of taking long walks with you and your family on the beaches during cool and windy weather. May any wind blow anything unpleasant aside for your happiness. Your very kind, all encompassing, loving heart is a great example to others.

Haydee, Nathaniel, Nolan, David, Geoffrey, Galen, and Richard

Deb Curtis

Dear Michael,

Do you remember when you offered a special tutorial for Edgar and me on the history of anthropology? I saved the notebook, it's over 14 years old. Edgar and I would marvel at your lectures. 

I teach the anthropology of sexuality course just as you taught me and when I've taught your book in class, my students were never more engaged.

I saw the wonderful photo of your family on Pam's blog. Your sons are handsome. I remember when Jacob was born. I wanted to hold him.  You let me hold him for a moment but given the loving father that you were wanted him in your arms. I don't know many men, who wanted to hold their children as much as you wanted to hold yours.

I have twin daughters who are 13. I teach anthropology at a small college in Newport. I love teaching anthropology. 

Thank you for training me. Thank you for being so generous with your stories, your ideas, and your experiences.

Thought you might enjoy a photo of my twin daughters, Emma and Zoe, dressed as cherries on Halloween.

Yours, Deb Curtis

Charles House

Celebrating Michael's birthday at Charles House, Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Kate Shaw

Your rendition of “By the Old Mill Stream” sung at Charles House with Steve always makes me smile. Every week I would try to sing it as fast as you, but I could not get all the words in as fast. I won't stop trying. Kate