![Ronald Morgan](/media/3559/morgan-obitpic.jpg?anchor=center&mode=crop&width=210&height=275&rnd=133650870000000000)
Feb. 7, 1945 – June 24, 2024
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Ronald Elton Morgan, “R.E.M.,” first born, of the first born, of the first born, slipped away peacefully when everyone left the room — for just a minute. A graceful exit of this earthly plane, the antithesis of the robust and colorful life this charismatic and handsome man lived.
Ron was predeceased by his gregarious and beloved fourth wife, Iris Dodge Morgan, a gifted artist, chef, interior decorator, mother and other mother. He is survived by his youngest daughter, Michelle Renea, who dedicated the past five years of her life devoted to the care of Iris and Ron. He leaves also his granddaughter Brandie, her mother’s steadfast support; his younger siblings, Jan, Dan and Grant; four children from his first marriage, Paul, Todd, Stephanie and Denise; as well as six other grandchildren; and six great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by parents Walter and Lorraine (Lunders) Morgan.
Ron learned master welding in the vast wheat fields of eastern Washington, repairing the heavy machinery of neighboring farmers. After graduating Pomeroy High School in 1963, Ron practiced industrial welding at the Port of Portland Shipyards. In the quiet, contemplative moments, Ron created detailed and exquisite works of metal art with an antique stick welder (for those that appreciate the significance of that feat) that his two oldest daughters are fighting over (ah, the seedy greed that death brings out in us). The Bug, a mixed media creation inspired by “people bugging me!” — was at the crux of an annoyingly significant conflict. Oh, the irony. We won’t divulge which daughter made away with the work of art; the other was appeased with the horseshoe wine rack Ron made, Lord knows when (now that’s foresight). But we digress.
Ron epitomized the Wild West Renaissance Man: a skilled hunter, fisherman, salesman, motorcyclist, artist and yes, baker (having made the best Thanksgiving dinner rolls, this side of the Great Before, from scratch).
Ron’s compassion and generosity of spirit extended to strangers in need of grace without judgment or condition. Friends, and accompanying stories the stuff of legend, were readily made wherever Ron adventured. And friends, wherever you might be now enjoying his company, accomplice to making new legends; lucky you.
Bless you on your journey, Dad, Papa, Uncle, Brother and Friend — thank you for the memories. We’ll see you on the other side.