Posted by Dennis Easley on May 7, 2007:

A Tribute to Michael Frederick Easley My brother was a man of honor, loyalty, optimism, and a wonderful sense of humor. They were ever present in his speech, thoughts and deeds. Michael Easley was born in Fordyce, Arkansas on February 14, 1936. His admirable traits were bestowed upon him at birth and nurtured throughout his youth by our highly principled, wise and loving parents, Col. Fred O. Easley, Jr. and Margaret Flannagan Easley. He was christened Michael Frederick Easley, however, during WWII, just before our father was to be transferred to Europe to fly combat missions, our grandparents insisted his name be changed to Fred O. Easley, III, to ensure the lineage would be maintained. This explains why his many caring classmates from the class of 1958 call him Fred. As it turned out, he wasn't very keen on the name, especially when as a Plebe, all too many upperclassmen found out his middle name was Oscar. So, when he graduated, not Magna Cum Laude, but rather, Lawdy, Lawdy, and was on his own, he submitted the paperwork to have his name changed back to Michael Frederick Easley only to find out the first name change was never officially recorded!!! But, you can call him Fred, or you can call him Mike or you can call him as his family does, Mickey!! Being raised in a military family meant, of course, living in many, many different locations including overseas, circumstances which helped to shape his love for the humanities, the written and spoken word and languages. His genuine interest in reading was evident even as a teenager. When it was time to move, Mickey and I had certain responsibilities connected with the move, principally filling up boxes and then, at the new location, unpacking the boxes and putting the contents where they belonged. I recall after one move, Mickey unpacked a box and upon re-discovering a book of particular interest, crawled up on the dining room table, and proceeded to get lost in his book. For the next couple of hours, all I heard were occasional bursts of laughter, and "Denny, come over here..you've gotta hear this". End result, we both got in trouble. On the other hand, he was a great storyteller and always had something to say that would make you smile or laugh. His classmate, Barry Zwick, said it best, "he brightened the day of whomever was lucky enough to spend time with him." He served his country with distinction with overseas assignments in Germany, Turkey, South Vietnam, Argentina and South Korea. Decorations which Mickey received for his service in Vietnam included the Bronze Star for Valor, Bronze Star, Air Medal, Commendation Medal, and the Combat Infantry Badge. However, the military-related activity that probably gave him the greatest pleasure was the creation of the Veterans Memorial Walk in Santa Barbara, California. His vision, design and tireless pursuit of funding and government support resulted in a truly remarkable memorial in a most spectacular setting. Not many know that at the height of the Cold War, right after the Berlin Wall was erected, he commanded the US Army tank platoon at Checkpoint Charlie during the tense Soviet-US standoff. His platoon stood face to face, or gun barrel to gun barrel, with 10 of the Soviet Union's mighty T-55 tanks, the "Russian Bear" category. So, to even the playing field, Mickey appropriately named his tanks "bears", Teddy Bear, Polar Bear, Cuddly Bear and Pooh Bear and the Soviet tanks eventually withdrew. His children will always know how much he valued their uniqueness and how deeply he loved them. He was incredibly proud of their accomplishments and very hopeful for their futures. His son, Scott, asked me to include the following thoughts. "When I was a young boy, about ten years old, my father saw me looking out the window one Saturday morning. We had recently gotten back from a vacation, and I think I missed all the unique sights parading past the car window. When he asked what my fascination was, I replied "I don't know, the trees, the people outside -- just the countryside, I guess". He looked outside and nodded, then asked plainly "Well, then how about we go for a ride?" Soon my father placed me in the family car and just the two us drove out into the Missouri countryside. We spent what seemed hours driving into those back roads watching houses and people, trees and stores. He would point things out, ask my opinion on what I saw, how I felt and which road to take. We would alternate talking and observing like two kindred souls observing the world. That was the spirit of my father -- he held the same fascination for people, the same innocent spirit of adventure that I did as a young boy. Even though he had seen both the blackness of war and trials of his own family hardship, he never lost his sense of humor or sense of wonder at the world. Those drives were very personal and meaningful for me, as I never thought even then a grown man would put aside his Saturday to drive out into the countryside just to go on an adventure with his young son." Mickey never questioned his fate when diagnosed with cancer, but fought the disease with all he had. In the midst of his own struggles, he shared enthusiasm and knowledge of his victories with all the fellow patients he met. He helped others whenever possible and lived by the words, "People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel." So, with that thought in closing, I would like everyone here to remember my brother by the words he said to me, and I'm sure he said to all his many friends and loved ones whenever he ended a conversation, "Keep Smiling!"

admin