ABSTRACT

I do not have a clear recollection of the circumstances of my first meeting with Jack Morgan, but I do remember where we met. I suspect that more out of the goodness of his heart than to any great scholarship on my part in the field of death and bereavement, he had invited me to present a paper at one of his many much-attended legendary annual conferences, which he organized at King’s College in London, Ontario. Aware of my rapidly failing health, he very kindly arranged to meet in Toronto and drive Ann, my wife, and me to London. From the manner in which he walked, to me he seemed like a huge, friendly, and kindly teddy bear. That was the first impression I formed of him; it has stayed with me and will continue to stay with me. (I half expected him to scratch his chest as we sat down in the hotel where we had arranged to meet. It would not have surprised me had he ordered a pot of honey for himself.) His demeanor was gentle, his voice soft, his smile infectious, his gestures controlled; one could not help but like him instantly. In no time at all we became good friends.