Tributes to Michael L Warbritton

Vera Jo’s Tribute

  

Three weeks ago, my Popsi passed away after a long fight with esophageal cancer. I've been grappling with the weight of his passing but I've found comfort in knowing that he is leaving behind a legacy of love and service; to live in the hearts of those we leave behind is not to die at all.

Here is what I know———grass feels best underneath bare feet, dirt looks best under finger nails, and peaches taste best right off of the tree.

Here is what I know———scratchy goatee kisses are the softest, the best hugs are big bear hugs, tooth picks don’t make very good q-tips, and tractors will always be more fun to drive than any sports car.

Here is what I know———every day can be an adventure, the back roads will always be more beautiful that the highways, stories are often better told than read, and “darlin’” should only ever be said in my grandfather's voice.

Here is what I know———as much as I miss the growing pains that made my legs hurt, not my heart, I am so lucky to have spent a lifetime learning from my Popsi.

My grandfather was a man with a personality almost as big as his heart. I will always think most fondly of his bright spirit, the ways his eyes lit up any time he looked upon the beauty and grace of my grandmother, and his uncanny ability to turn a stranger into a lifelong friend in just a matter of minutes.

Undoubtedly, my grandfather has made me into the young woman I am today. He taught me to love unselfishly, how to listen wholeheartedly, and how to live passionately. He taught me how to walk with purpose and how to dream with hope. From our farmhouse fun to our dog days in the desert, our relationship was most precious to me.

My grandfather was a blessing to all those fortunate enough to have known him. As my little brother said, he was a profoundly happy man, who always had a smile to offer. From Sweetwater, Texas to Vietnam, to the ends of the earth, my grandfather has touched lives and his memory lives on in us. I cannot wait to tell my own children of the successes and accomplishments of their great grandfather. Fly high, airman.

 

 

 

Andrew's Tribute

 

As every kid grows up, they all have dreams to one day become big and be remembered for their accomplishments. Many set goals to become a famous singer, athlete, or even as far as being the first person to go back in time. Although these goals are set at such a high caliber, and they aren't necessarily impossible, at one point every kid must face reality and realize that it Is highly unlikely that those dreams will come true. While this could be painful to realize, it does no...t mean that you can't still make an impact on the world and be remembered. My grandfather, Michael Warbritton or as I call him, Popsi was able to do just that. Despite losing his battle to Esophagus cancer, he fought every day of his life to keep pushing and surviving. Every day that I was able to spend with him I will cherish for the rest of my life. Before and even after his diagnosis, he was the happiest man I ever knew. He could walk down the street and find a way to become a friend with every one he saw. He never became famous, yet he made one of the biggest impacts on the world that I will never forget. "I believe every human has a finite number of heartbeats. I don't intend to waste any of mine." -Neil Armstrong

 

 

 

 

My Brother Mike - My Tribute

How do you measure the depth of a man’s character, the breadth of his love, the height of his compassion? I believe that it is measured in the life that he lives, by the way he treats those he loves, by the way he serves others in need, by the passion that drives his commitments.

He was named after our grandfathers, Oscar Mike Mosely and James Leroy Warbritton. I am sure that he was glad she didn’t name him “Oscar Leroy”. Mother called him Mike because her father was called Mike. He later preferred to be called Michael and he was tagged “Popsi” by his grandchildren.

Mike was a total commitment kind of a guy. When a task had to be accomplished, he pursued it with a firm dedication until it was done. He dedicated years taking correspondence courses from Southern Illinois U. He eventually acquired an undergraduate degree before he retired from the USAF. He told Ted and I that he completed his entire degree “without ever setting foot on campus”. After leaving the Air Force he acquired a Masters Degree in Education at North Texas University within a few years. He pursued a Doctorate to the point of writing his thesis but decided to pursue teaching and administration in technical education. He stuck to the plan and accomplished his goal.

This level of education enabled him to pursue another of his great loves in life, teaching young adults. Mike taught high school in Fort Worth until he was chosen as a Dean at Mountain View College in Dallas. From there he earned a position of Dean in Technical Training in Maryland. After this time, he taught at inner city schools in Baltimore and York Community College in Pennsylvania. Wherever he lived, he taught, and his students admired and respected him. He loved teaching and he eagerly shared his knowledge to help others. When Ted and I had a computer problem, we always called Mike. Granted, Ted is still trying to figure out how to use his flip phone, but Mike always responded to our needs.

Mike was a “prolific reader”; he devoured books by his favorite authors. He sometimes sent me books by writers he had recently discovered, and we discussed books we had both read. He introduced Ted and I to Craig Johnson and I put him onto Rick Atkinson. We both shared an interest in the Civil War, modern history, historical fiction and contemporary thrillers, but he read with an intensity that I could not match. I have never met a person who could consume so much information so quickly.

Helping others became a driving force after his retirement. He joined the Knights of Columbus and served others in countless ways through their charitable projects. He embraced his faith in God and he put his beliefs into action. He became a staunch supporter of military veterans, going to airports and greeting returning service men and women, welcoming them back with gift bags and thanking them for their service. He told me that he could make a connection with any veteran he met; just for the record, Mike met few in his life that he didn’t make a connection with. He was genuinely interested in everyone’s story.

It was in a summer scout day camp in Sweetwater TX that he learned to build model airplanes. He actually started with simple plastic models but eventually graduated to the balsa wood kits where you built the frame and then covered them with a tissue paper skin, painted them and then put a rubber band motor in them. When completed, you could take them to an open field and fly them.  (Well, at least once). It was the beginning of a lifetime hobby that he never gave up. After retiring from the Air Force, he started building model planes for ex-pilots who flew in WWII, Korea and Vietnam. For everyone that he built a special plane, he requested only that they send him a photo of them holding their plane. He mounted them on authentic bases and with authentic markings, and they were graciously received. One is permanently displayed in the Volk National Guard AFB museum in Wisconsin, honoring Jerome A. Volk, a veteran of World War II who was killed in Korea. Mike was so proud that he was asked to honor him. One of his models proudly sits on a bookshelf in my home. When mine arrived, I told him that one of the bombs had fallen off in shipping and he replied, “Not to worry, I sent you a packet of glue to reattach anything like that.” He prepared for contingencies in everything he did. His models are meticulously detailed with authentic squadron colors and insignia. His work was impeccable.

His thoughtfulness touched all that he loved. As we were talking one day, he mentioned that he had just bought some ruby cufflinks at an antique store. I told him that I used to own some, and they had been lost over the years, but they were my favorites. A week later I received a package from him with a pair of ruby cufflinks. Mike was like that and I’m wearing them today.

   “When Mike and I ventured out on the course for the first time, we knew it was going to be special. Our clubs were loaded into our cart and after warming up on a bag of range balls we advanced to the first tee. It was a beautiful day, we had no deadlines and it was an immense pleasure to just play at our pace and enjoy each other’s company. I know that many folks don’t understand the senselessness of chasing a little white ball over 6500 yards of golf course, but they don’t understand the real benefit of playing a round of golf. First of all, an enormously beautiful setting of plush greenery, fragrant pines, crystal clear ponds and freshly mowed greens surrounded us. Secondly, we were given precious personal time to spend with each other and to catch up on many missing segments of our lives. And lastly, we actually enjoyed the pursuit of excellence in our golf games; especially when we hit a good shot. But golf is about more than striking a ball, it’s everything surrounding the act; including the camaraderie of the participants. We bonded like brothers of old; before the jobs, the families and the distances got in the way; we had a great day.”  

When we were kids, he got Ted and I into a lot of trouble. Like when he talked us into breaking into an unfinished shool in our neighborhood and riding up and down the halls with muddy tires, or when he talked us into roping calves at Uncle Grant’s corral and trying to ride them like rodeo cowboys. I guess these were the days that he was developing his leadership skills. He taught me how to catch crawdads with a piece of bread on a string. He destroyed my belief in Santa in 1954 by showing me where all the gifts were hidden in the top of Mother’s closet.

One didn’t have to be around him long to realize that he loved baseball and football. During Cowboy games we would exchange texts and complain about a play we had just watched, “Romo is off today”, “Did you see that catch that Dez made?”. He knew I loved TCU and he would text me to let me know what channel to watch for their upcoming game.(Like I didn’t already know) He surprised me by sending me a TCU cap and decal after this past season. I think I almost turned him to a Horned Frog fan this past year, but Mike loved his Rangers, Cowboys, and Longhorns.

He also loved his music, whether it be country or classic or most anything in between. From George Strait to Eric Clapton. We swapped music that we both enjoyed. I think that maybe he liked Irish folk music best. He made me copies of his favorite Irish family, “The Leahys”. He listened with sophisticated headphones to fully enjoy his favorites, Mike loved his music.

But what Mike loved most was family, all of his family, all the in-laws, and all the outlaws, and all of his dogs (Cisco, Travis, Scooter and Jefe). If you were family, you were loved and he was willing to do anything he could for you, and all he wanted in return was our acknowledgement of his love.

He had a deep and abiding love for his birth family including his brothers, cousins, his nephews and neices. He loved you all.

His heart was broken at the loss of his  daughter, Melissa, over 18 years ago and his heart rejoiced last week at the visit of his son, James Michael. Michael, I pray that God will grant you peace in your heart as you savor the good times you shared with your dad, for he loved you dearly. Amanda and Shelby and Aaron, you are special and he was brimming over with pride and love when he was able to be with you.

He met the true love of his life and soul-mate in Cynthia. She helped mold him into a kinder and gentler person as she steadfastly stood by her man. Last year in his blog entitled “My Hero Cynthia” he wrote, “ BUT, the real hero in my trials and tribulations belong to one person and one person ONLY, my wife Cynthia.  No one has done more to be there at all the critical moments of my progress through this process called cancer.” He also renewed his faith in God, as he wrote, “My faith in God is paramount, unwavering, and strong.”

He fell in love with all of Cyb’s family. I don’t have to tell you this Kim, but he adored you and Bruce and all of yours. Stacy, he had an unbreakable bond with you and your children, and I know you felt the same. He deeply loved and proudly supported Vera Jo and Andrew and he loved you as his own.

How do you measure the depth of a man’s character? I do it by comparing him to my brother Mike, a man who lived life to the fullest, who accomplished much, who served his country, who gave freely of himself, and above all, a man who loved much. He let us all know we were loved by his constant thoughtfulness and his abundant generosity.

I will end with the last words I spoke to him. “I’ll see you soon, I love you Mike”.