BY ANDREW MORKES, FOUNDER & AUTHOR OF NATURE IN CHICAGOLAND
UPDATED NOVEMBER 2025
To paraphrase the Bible, of dust we were made, and to dust we will return once our time ends on earth. This fact is immutable, but I think we all long for some type of permanence after we die. If we lived good lives, our names and actions are remembered by those who loved us. The infamous, of course, are also remembered throughout history. The ultra-famous live on, but even their names are often forgotten with time. But as those who knew and loved us pass on, our lives and achievements soon become summarized in a few sentences or a paragraph or two (if we’re lucky) by their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Eventually, our names become just another entry in the long list of the estimated 117 billion people who have walked the earth and passed on.
To celebrate my loved ones, bosses, teachers, and others I’ve known who have joined the community of saints (and I mean this in a non-secular way), I’ve created a written celebration of them. On Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead), many people remember their loved ones by creating individualized altars that include photos, candles, flowers, possessions of the deceased, and other objects; tell stories about their deceased friends and family; and do other activities. All Saint’s Day is a more formal version of this tradition and is celebrated in Roman Catholic and some Protestant traditions. My goal is to do the same on this day with words and a few photos. These memories will not be in the “he/she was a great person” format. Rather, they are meant to capture the essence of the person and bring them back from memory for a time.
This is a highly personal endeavor, and my life and loved ones and others who’ve made a difference in my life may not interest you. My memories also turned into a long essay. Perhaps you should treat this essay as a bunch of streaming channels—some that you read . . . others not so much. I hope, if nothing else, my celebration spurs you to remember your own loved ones and think of—and write down—a powerful memory of those now gone who made a difference in your life. Or create a personalized altar or otherwise celebrate those whom you’ve loved, appreciated, and lost. Light a candle, tell a story, and remember a favorite person in your life.
Stories of our loved ones enrich our lives and sustain and encourage us during hard times. If we tell enough stories, it’s almost as if our other loved ones are still here. And I believe in my heart that those who leave us are always with us on Earth in some strange and wonderful way that we can’t understand as temporal beings. So, here are the stories of some of my loved ones. After some entries, there are links to longer articles I’ve written about that person.
George Morkes
My dad was my best friend who taught me to love the outdoors, bounce back from life’s challenges, and work hard in everything I did.
He was a skilled woodworker. In his spare time, he loved carving fierce, wonderful creatures—muscular panthers, dinosaurs with wild jagged spines, and anatomically absurd giraffes with pencil-thin necks and chunky lower bodies—for us to play with when we were young.
My dad loved to sit outside during late-summer nights and praise the breeze and fresh air. And I loved to sit with him.
He enjoyed grilling, and his favorite recipe was what he called “trail burgers,” a scrumptious mix of onions, carrots, green peppers, potatoes, spices, and ground beef that he wrapped in tinfoil and cooked on the grill. It was Boy Scout camping food, but he also loved making trail burgers at home in our backyard, the cicadas singing so loudly that sometimes our conversation was drowned out temporarily. I once asked how long the trail burgers took to cook, and he simply said two beers, so we’d each have two beers. He enjoyed Guinness and Old Style, and I buy Old Style sometimes because it reminds me of him. I’d drink Guinness whether he liked it or not! You can get the trail burger recipe by clicking here.
He was my dad, and I loved him.
Marion Morkes
(Note: This text was published on 10/28/25): Regular readers of my Nature in Chicagoland blog might have noticed that I’ve been a bit quiet for the last year or so. Work and personal health challenges sometimes get in the way of getting out in and writing about the great outdoors. But the main factor for my absence was my mom’s declining health. As my mom’s health worsened over the last year (especially in the last six months of her life), I was lucky enough to be able to support her during her multiple hospital stays and nearly five months at a nursing home. Supporting an elderly parent (e.g., visits, insurance challenges, tests, therapy sessions, daily conversations with healthcare professionals of all types) can be challenging and exhausting, but I’m so happy that I could be there for my mom and support and love her at the end of her long life. My mom passed away on September 25, 2025. She was a strong and lovely person and made friends wherever she went in her life. She was almost always in a good mood (even when life was challenging), which serves as a good lesson for us all. Despite the fact that we knew it was coming, it is still shocking that my mom is no longer with us. She was in my life for 20,415 days, and then she was suddenly gone. No more phone calls and letters from her. No more bags of cookies and other treats to take home. No more holidays and lunches with her. No more kind words and silly moments. It’s such a strange feeling to know that someone who was with you from the moment you were conceived and born is gone. But life goes on, and I’m trying to remember all the good moments of our more than 55 years together as opposed to the bad ones.
I’d like to share the eulogy that I gave for her on October 1, 2025. I hope that it provides a glimpse of my mom’s “wonderfulness.”
You can read the eulogy by checking out my article, Saying Goodbye to My Mom: A Talented Gardener, All-Star Baker, and Avid Letter Writer—and an All-Around Wonderful Lady
Wally Setlak
My pharmacist boss in the 1990s who befriended me despite being 40 years my senior. He was like a second father to me in a way. Wally introduced me to Bruna’s, Home Run Inn, Roseangelas, Jack Gibbons, Louisa’s and other great Southland restaurants; engaged with me in cardboard box fights and quarter-flipping contests when we were bored at work; once owned an art gallery on Wells Street; and told me that he used to make so much money as a pharmacy owner in the 1960s that he’d keep brown paper bags filled with cash in his basement. He was the type of person who made his friends (some whom I still know) my friends.
Our favorite place to eat was Louisa’s on south Cicero Avenue (it’s still there). When I’d drop him off at his house after dinner, he’d always tap the front fender of my car and make eye contact with me in the driver’s seat to say goodbye.
Wally died six months after my dad passed away in 1997.
Philip Gance
My maternal grandfather came to America when he was 20 years old from Sicily. He was a landscaper on Chicago’s North Shore. His vast yard at his white stucco house in Kenilworth was a sea of vegetables, flowers, and other greenery. It was beautiful. I still see those summer colors in my head—especially on gray winter days. As a little boy, I loved crawling through and hiding in the dense underbrush, climbing his plumb tree for a snack, and picking gargantuan cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions. He had a quick soft-staccato laugh that I often heard as he sat in his favorite chair watching TV after family dinners.
Great-Grandma Marchese
My grandpa Philip’s mom Maria was born in Italy. The story goes that in the 1800s her family in Sicily was given the choice of a noble title or vineyards. They smartly took the vineyards. My great-grandma always wore black and seemed to constantly say the rosary with a gold crucifix in her hand. She did not speak English well, but I remember her smiles and hugs. She lived to be 95. (Below: My great-grandmother and my great-great grandmother in Evanston in the 1920s. I first saw this photo only a month or two ago, and I was amazed at how much I looked like her when I was younger; others have said it, too. This made me feel closer to her for some reason, and that felt good.)
Uncle Phil
My wild and tempestuous uncle who would pick up the lit ends of cigarettes as a parlor trick; who once told me he’d break my arm if he ever caught me smoking; who took me for a ride on his motorcycle when I was 8; who often mooned us and others at Matty’s restaurant in Glenview; who had a cat named Budweiser and throw cushions in the shape of women’s breasts; and who always promised to build a go-cart for my brother and I—but never did.
Aunt Kathy
My Uncle Phil’s wife. When I was a kid, I thought she was the prettiest and coolest lady (non-Mom) I’d ever met. She loved to laugh, and was a saint for staying married as long as she did to my uncle.
Dorothy Gance
My maternal Czech grandmother was the first person outside of my parents to laugh at my jokes. She played Chutes-and-Ladders with me for what seemed like hours when I was a kid and spelled out swear words in front of me for way too many years after I was declared spelling bee champion. She made great mini-hamburgers and chocolate-chip cookies.
Eleanor Morkes
My paternal grandmother. I was only four when she died, but still feel her love. I wish her life had not been so hard.
Aunt Marilyn
As a little boy, I loved going to her apartment and playing with her Siberian Husky Whitey. When you’re little, a big, happy dog almost overwhelms you when it greets you. I remember being nearly knocked over as I hugged a sea of white fur every time that I visited. At Christmas, my aunt and uncle would set up a wonderful train around their tree, and I loved watching it as it chugged and whistled under the branches.
Mr. Boyle
My good friend Ann’s English father was one of the first adults to treat me like an adult when I was just a late teen. I remember him asking my opinion about news stories that I had a kernel of knowledge of at the time, but it was so nice to be taken seriously when few people take you seriously as a teen.
When we were 8 or 9, he’d sometimes pick us up from day camp at Kennedy Park. We bugged him to buy us ice cream, which he did sometimes. But he had the most ingenious plan/response for our incessant ice cream requests. He had a dummy wallet that was completely empty, and he’d open it up with a smile saying that he had no money that day. I’ve used that trick with my own son’s friends.
Photo caption: Mr. and Mrs. Boyle, far left
Mrs. Boyle
My friend Ann’s mother. So smart, so witty. I loved talking with her about books and movies. When I was 18 or so, I attended a theater party at Mr. and Mrs. Boyle’s house. I remember sitting near the top of the staircase and watching them tell funny stories together and thinking to myself, “Ann has the coolest, funniest, and most-sophisticated parents that I’ve ever met.”
Chris Danek
You can file our relationship under, “I wish would have met him sooner and known him better,” but I’m glad I was able to meet Chris (the boyfriend of my longtime friend Ann) a few years back and spend lots of time with him over several visits to their homes in Michigan. Ann always said that Chris and I would get along great, and that was the case. Chris was funny, a hard worker, passionate about things he cared about, a nature lover, and genuine (I was always struck by how closely he paid attention when we were talking…he really listened). He founded Fourth Coast Café and Crow’s Nest Restaurant in Kalamazoo, and I love a fellow entrepreneur. It takes something special to start not one, but two, highly successful businesses. In 2023, Chris left this world way too soon at age 53. You can read a great story about him here.
Stuart Parker & Camille McKinley
My wife and I became friends with Stuart and Camille when they were 91 and 84, respectively. I bought a career newsletter business, the CAM Report, from them. What was once a business relationship quickly became a friendship. They split the year between Michigan and Florida, so we’d only see them a few times a year and only at for lunch at Gibson’s in Chicago’s Gold Coast.
Stuart, her second husband, was born in Canada and had a 40-year law career. He was on the boxing team at the University of Toronto, and he served in Canadian military intelligence during World War II. His obituary at Legacy.com states that he was “active in code breaking activities and [an] advisor in wireless communications” during the war. Stuart was a thinker who loved books and ideas. Our conversations were filled with discussions of books, philosophy, politics, history, and even health, nutrition, and fitness. In his 90s, he exercised every day in order to, as he once told me, “to generate my energy for the day.”
Camille was a college counseling professional, a gifted pianist, and a second grandma to me. She was my biggest booster, and was constantly pushing me for university jobs that required a graduate degree. She said say, “Oh, you can do that. You’d be great at that.” Every year, Camille would invite us to come see her in the summer in Michigan. We never made it up there, and I regret that. Follow up on offers of friendship because you may regret your lack of action once those people are no longer around.
You can learn more about them by reading my article, Remembering My Third Set of Grandparents and a Special Friendship.
Jennifer M.
We dated in our early 20s. We both worked at the Amoco, and I used to sneak up to the cashier’s booth to give her a kiss when I wasn’t busy at the car wash. She had a beautiful smile and a kind spirit. She is stuck in time in my head as a fun 21-year-old who was yet to be married, yet to have two kids, and yet to face cancer (which caused her death at age 37).
Bridget M.
She was tall, very Irish-looking, and a wonderful singer. We only went on four dates, but her laugh, smile, and gentleness still stand out 30 years later. She died in a car crash in her 30s.
Fred Elzinga
My scoutmaster. His nickname was “Buster.” He lied about his age to become a marine medic during World War II. Who told us of having to amputate a marine’s leg with a knife while under fire; who introduced me to whiskey on the rocks when I was way too young to drink; who’d poke us in the stomach with his cane to get us out of bed when we’d go camping; and who loved smoking a pipe, which I can still smell today.
Don Wells
Wealthy trickster. The owner of Wells Lamont (a family business that’s now owned by Berkshire Hathaway). He was one of my dad’s and grandpa’s customers. We were not close, but he stands out for two memories. At my grandpa’s funeral, I met him for the first time. He asked me to name my favorite (history) and least-favorite (math) high school classes and what I wanted to study in college (English/creative writing). With a glint in his eye and a wicked grin on his face, he said, “I hear that English majors need to take a lot of math in college.”
Second memory: he’d check in on my brother and I over the years after my dad died in 1997. His wife would order my books without saying who she was, and he’d occasionally call my mom and us to say hello. A few months before Mr. Wells died in 2004, I unknowingly received my last call from him. He asked,” How are you doing? Is everything going well for you? Is there anything I can do for you?” At the time, I just assumed he was being friendly, but he’d never asked me such direct questions. In retrospect, I realized that he was seeing if he could do anything for me and my family as he neared the end of his life. That’s my best memory of a trickster millionaire who really barely knew me but was just the kind of decent person that we should all have in our lives.
You can read his Chicago Tribune obituary here.
Jim McKenna
My father-in-law, who was kind enough to simply say “welcome to the family” when I nervously asked he and his wife for permission to marry Amy; who had a funny way of responding to almost anything you asked him; who was my late-night conversation companion at their kitchen table when we stayed overnight; who was a problem-solver, who always seemed to have the right screw, tool, fuse, or piece of advice when someone needed it.
Uncle Louie
Jim McKenna’s brother. He was a great reader and loved to talk about history, politics, and what-not at family parties. Every Christmas, he gave generous gifts to his many nieces and nephews and their spouses. Dinner for 15 or so at a fancy restaurant. A Broadway in Chicago theater subscription to the same gang. He was the kind of uncle that I never had.
Judy McKenna
My wife’s aunt, who I considered my aunt, too, in a way. Wife of Bro for 57 years. Mother of three wonderful daughters. A grandmother of six, whom she doted on. A woman who made you feel good just by being in her presence. Judy was a fun, loving, laid-back person who had one of the greatest laughs in the world. She loved dressing up for Halloween each year and meeting the kids who came to her door. Judy and Bro hosted decades of Christmas Eve family parties at their house in Crete (and before that in Dolton). I’m grateful for those memories–cold cuts, pickles, pigs-in-a-blanket, baked beans, and more on the table; Guinness and other beers cooling on the stairs just outside the back door; smiles on everyone’s faces; endless games of pool being played in the basement; loud and lively conversations; the “Kathy and Judy show” (family joke); kids running up and down the stairs; and opening presents (including the Coot Veal baseball card the uncles would exchange each year…another family joke). I am still surprised when I don’t see her smiling face at family get-togethers, although I know she is gone.
Uncle Fred
My wife’s uncle almost lived to 100. He was a self-made man and had a great sense of humor, and a joyous sense of fun about life. One example: When he was in his early 90s, he liked to tell people he met that he was 104. He’d soak up all the compliments about how vigorous he was and never corrected the story. Some of my favorite Easter and Christmas dinners were spent at his farm and the nearby Big Foot Country Club in Wisconsin.
Aunt June
My wife’s aunt, and Fred’s wife. The kind of person who you know is smart, good, kind, and classy the moment you first meet them. And generous, too. My wife tells the story of her slipping cash gifts to all of her nieces and nephews, then her grandkids and niece Katie, every Thanksgiving so they could go Christmas shopping.
BETH BRYAN
My wife’s cousin, whom I knew for more than 25 years. Beth was a traveler who loved the outdoors and exercise (especially tennis). She had a sharp intelligence and wry sense of humor. Some of my fondest memories of her are from Thanksgivings and other holidays at her mom and dad’s farm in southern Wisconsin–either catching up while standing next to a crackling fire or indoors in the warm, cheery glow of one of the great rooms at the Big Foot Country Club down the road. She was a “kid magnet.” There was something about her personality that was like catnip to kids, and its heartening to know that she left such a lasting impression on so many. Some people never leave their childhood neighborhood and/or stay at the same job for their entire careers. There’s something to be said for that, but I loved that Beth was a person of change and a type of adventurer–traveling throughout the country and world and living in Nashville, Tennessee; Scottsdale, Arizona; and southern Wisconsin. Beth passed away in March 2024 at her sister’s house that overlooks a beautiful lake.
Gary Haese
The husband of my wife’s cousin. He was a kind man who always sought to help others. My last memory of Gary is him kidding me about dancing at the same time with two women at a family wedding. He got a real kick out of it. Whenever he saw me, he’d say, “It’s the guy who danced with two girls!”
Helen and Stanley Frank
My elderly customers when I worked at the pharmacy as a clerk/delivery guy. When I knew them, Stanley had not been out of his house in eight years. I used to spend 20 minutes having a pop and a piece of cake and talking with them—rather than going on my other deliveries. I knew them during the first Gulf War, and they were so worried that I’d be drafted into the “unjust war” as they called it.
Marie Foote
Another drugstore customer. A lady of class and kindness, who always made me assure her that staples had not been used to seal her delivery bags. She hated staples! She was a wonderful artist (who painted under the name Pilar). As I waited to collect her payment, I’d get lost in her paintings of seashores and ocean waves. I still dream of owning one of her paintings.
beloved relative
Sometimes survivors want their privacy and, for that reason, I won’t mention her by name. But you can be assured that those who knew her loved her. We loved her kindness, her sense of fun and kidding nature, her great laugh, and her loyalty to her spouse through both challenging and wonderful times. I admire her fortitude in the wake of what was an endless litany of illnesses, surgeries, and recoveries. It takes a special kind of person to persevere and still be positive, and she was all that and more. She was also a great friend to my mother and for that, I’m also grateful. I knew her for almost 40 years. I consider her both family and a friend. I miss her. And she left us way too soon.
Miss George
Our neighbor, who lived in her house for 85 years, and was actually born there. She loved spending time in her yard growing piles and piles of vegetables and playing with her dog Daisy. I enjoyed talking over the fence with her in the twilight on hot summer nights.
Jim Lack
The father of my friends, Steve and Christine, whom I first met when I was 19 or 20 years old. He was a funeral director like my dad. He took us “near adults” out to see our first live blues music at the “Tippon Inn” on Western Avenue in Blue Island. He’d sometimes come to my backyard parties straight from work in his suit, white dress shirt, etc., but that didn’t stop him from asking us if we wanted us to see his impression of bacon frying. Before we could answer, he’d have his coat off and be on the bare ground wiggling around like cooking bacon, gradually curling up like bacon did while cooking. He was not worried about what people thought, not worried about getting a little dirty—just focused on living in the moment. This is a great lesson that I’ve incorporated into my own life although I always left the “bacon frying” to him.
Great-Grandmother Oliver
Boy did Ida live a life. She handed off her newborn daughter (my grandmother) to her German parents to raise, married a guy who was part of a gang that opposed Al Capone, made her own wine during Prohibition, and started a garment workers’ union in Chicago—and got beat down by corporate goons for her trouble. I have audio tapes of her being interviewed by my dad about the family and Chicago in the early 1900s. I treasure them. She is still larger than life to me 45 years after her death.
Uncle Rich
My wife’s uncle. Who was so hearty that he worked till age 72 as a grounds manager with the University of Illinois Chicago; who loved nature so much that he’d adopt any plant or bush earmarked for the garbage at work, take them home, and bring them back to life; who had a helping spirit and was always eager to assist a friend, neighbor, or even a stranger who needed assistance.
David Fode
My beloved friend, whom I knew since high school; who once drove his car backward through a fast-food drive in because he said that he always wanted to do it; who was accompanied me on my first road trip across the western U.S.—12 states in 14 days; who was my camping buddy with our sons at Kohler-Andrae State Park, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, and other destinations for many years; whose stained-glass work brims with imagination, whimsy, a wonderful and offbeat view of the world, and wild creativity; who was a loyal friend until we lost him suddenly in July 2022. He is greatly missed.
And my article, Celebrating the Artistic Excellence of my Beloved Friend David Fode.
Copyright (text) Andrew Morkes
Copyright (photos) Andrew Morkes; except the Mr. and Mrs. Boyle, Fred Bryan, Jim Lack, and Camille & Stuart McKinley photos, which are owned by each family
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Looking for some great nature destinations in Chicagoland? If so, I’ve published Nature in Chicagoland: More Than 120 Fantastic Nature Destinations That You Must Visit. It features amazing destinations (including for birding) in Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, and Wisconsin. Click on the title to learn more. The book (306 pages, 210+ photos) is only $18.99. Click here to learn more and purchase the book.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
ABOUT ANDREW MORKES
I’ve been writing and editing for more than 30 years. I’m the founder of College & Career Press (2002); the author and publisher of “The Morkes Report: College and Career Planning Trends” blog; and the author and publisher of Hot Health Care Careers: 30 Occupations With Fast Growth and Many New Job Openings; Nontraditional Careers for Women and Men: More Than 30 Great Jobs for Women and Men With Apprenticeships Through PhDs; They Teach That in College!?: A Resource Guide to More Than 100 Interesting College Majors, which was selected as one of the best books of the year by the library journal Voice of Youth Advocates; and other titles. They Teach That in College!? provides more information on environmental- and sustainability-related majors such as Ecotourism, Range Management, Renewable Energy, Sustainability and the Built Environment, Sustainability Studies, and Sustainable Agriculture/Organic Farming. I also served as a member of the parent advisory board at my son’s school for five years.
In addition to these publications, I’ve written more than 70 books about careers for other publishing and media companies including Infobase (such as the venerable Encyclopedia of Careers & Vocational Guidance, the Vault Career Guide to Accounting, and many volumes in the Careers in Focus, Discovering Careers, What Can I Do Now?!, and Career Skills Library series) and Mason Crest (including those in the Careers in the Building Trades and Cool Careers in Science series).
Here’s a list of the environmental-focused titles that I’ve written:
- Nature in Chicagoland: More Than 120 Fantastic Nature Destinations That You Must Visit
- Wind Turbine Technicians (Great Careers Without a Bachelor’s Degree series)
- Environmental Scientists (Cool Careers in Science series)
- Renewable Energy Careers (Cool Careers in Science series)
- Environment (Getting Started series)
- Solar Power Technicians (Careers in Infrastructure series)
One thought on “Remembering My Community of Saints on The Day of the Dead”