|Betsy called me at the
office today with the sad news, and even though I know in my heart that Aunt Morag is
free, it still hurts. Maybe it's because she was the gentlest of the three sisters,
married to a gentle man. I hope that Fred has his toots in his arms at this very moment.
When I get to the office in the morning, I will scan and send a picture of Morag and Mom
that was taken on my wedding day. It was the last time I saw Auntie Morag. I'm not sure
when she started dealing with her insidious illness, but I never saw her again. She was so
damned lovable. As a kid, on our summer visits, what I remember most was her kitchen.
Bright and sunny (if a little small) whose walls were lined with delicately enamel tea
cups that would have screamed (if they could have) "keep that ham-handed squirt away
from us!" And the smells. Blueberries, cucumbers, tea and scones.
anything to have a cup of tea or a wee gowdie (sp?) With her right now. Maybe someday down
Louis (Mac) Chappelear
I only knew Aunt Morag very briefly and in that short period of time both she and Fred
sparkled, and at our wedding, I hoped my life with Mac would hold the same sparkles. I
know she's busy catching up with things and family on the other side.
|My dearest Aunt Morag,
How were you able to
maintain a sense of fairness and balance for all of us in the family? You had that magical
gift of been able to listen to both sides of a conflict in our family, and I mean truly
listen, yet manage to keep relationships with everybody no matter what the circumstances.
You were truly a godmother to me, watching over me and standing up for me. You loved all
of your nieces and nephews equally. You and Uncle Fred made it a point to attend
confirmations, baptisms, marriages and funerals. Your house was always a welcome place to
be. The smell of the scones and the orange cake always brought me into the kitchen, the
best place to be. You were the most Scottish of all since so much more of your life was on
the Isle of Skye and your native language was Gaelic not English like your other brother
and sisters. I looked up to you as the head of our extended family. No one can ever
replace you. I have missed you for long time and will miss you for long time coming but
your soul remains in my heart forever. Love, Kathy
Katharine Mockett Oberteuffer
|Dear Aunt Morag,
I've written you so many
times, I guess this is the last. You wrote such chatty upbeat letters in your beautiful
script. I always loved getting them. I still have some in a very crumply yellowed scrap
book. How much I looked forward to seeing you and Uncle Fred whenever we could get
together. Remember how we used to drive across the country to see you almost every summer?
As we got closer to Glen Cove, I remember magical words like the Long Island Expressway
and Oyster Bay. You always greeted me like I was the most special child in the world. And
the food, fresh berries, minted peas, turkey divan and scones with fresh jam. And you'd
ask me about school and take us to Jones Beach and to Jessie's for meringue and to play
with the chickens. Remember that summer you came to California? We all took a trip up
north in the station wagon and how we watered that corn field? How you left about that!
You were what everyone would want in a favorite Aunt, so huggable and attentive and ever
kind to us all. I have missed you for a long time and will forever. I'm glad you're with
Uncle Fred now, and that he has his toots.
I love you... Betsy
Elizabeth (Betsy) Chappelear Tryon
|Auntie Morag always knew that the way to a
child's heart is through their stomach. How we anticipated her arrival in Lew Beach. When
Uncle Fred's car pulled into the driveway after the long drive from Glen Cove, we were met
at the door in a shot, clamoring around the car looking for all the bags full of our
favorite goodies: fresh banana bread, current cakes (No. 1), scones, and cookies. When
grandmother passed away, it was Auntie Morag that carried on the great griddle scone
making tradition. It was always a thorn in Dad's side that he could never makes scones
like Auntie Morag's.
Every summer we crossed the ocean by ship, and would drive directly
to Auntie Morag's house, where we would stay for a week before going up to Lew Beach. Aunt
Chris, Uncle Al, Aunt Morag, Uncle Fred, the Nicholsons, and Mom and Dad would sit up all
night laughing, eating, telling stories, while Jamie and I sat on Auntie Morag's bed,
glued to the TV-we didn't have TV at home in Switzerland. We couldn't wait to wake up
because no matter how late Auntie Morag had been up the night before, she was always up
early to make us pancakes for breakfast. Often, we would then pack the lunch and go to the
Nicholsons to get Annie and Annette, and read all go to the Beach. Every summer we have at
least one lovely dinner at the Nicholson's house; everyone would have drinks out of the
garden while us kids were exploring the off limits barn.
Because she had no children of her own, Auntie Morag loved us all in a special way.
Every Christmas she gave me a Scottish present to remind me of my heritage; a plaid tea
cozy, a thistle tea cup, plaid socks, etc. When Shawn was born, she sent a beautiful card
of the Highlands, the graduating us on the "newest wee bairn of the clan." She
always reminded us of our roots and gave us a sense of family history, telling stories of
the "old" days and the beauty and hardships of life in the "old
country". We have missed her greatly these past years, and we can now celebrate her
release from oblivion to be once again with all of our beloved family who have been
waiting for her on the other side.
Donna MacInnes Glancey
She always had a smile and a good word for everyone.
|A few words to share about Auntie Morag:
was a special aunt, the only one without children, so she adopted us all unconditionally,
gave us all love unselfishly, and was an open and caring person to us all. There's a lot
to be said for someone like that. A whole lot. Besides, she made the best banana bread in
the world. Whenever I get some from the Stop and Save across from Canegata Park in
Christiansted baked by a local Cruzan woman I always think back to Morag's wonderful
banana bread. The Cruzan is good. But there's never been any better than Morag's. Nor ever
The only person I've ever known with never a cross word, with always a smile, and with
always a cheery disposition and a positive response and analysis to every situation.
Clearly, the glass was always half full. Or more. Someone who did her best to avoid the
MacInnes highland family feuds, she would have been well served had she worked at the
State Department as a diplomat!
A lovely lady. It was so sad to see her the past 6 or 7 years, fading back to speaking
Gaelic and with hazy or blank memory of nieces and nephews in front of her, but at least
we knew she was well cared for by Annette and Sharon; a large guilt burden lifted. And a
large comfort level achieved. All of us in this extended MacInnes clan owe Annette a huge
hug and thanks.
Thankfully, Morag is united with Fred, and with Chrissy and Marjorie and Donald and
Ewen. We can take comfort in knowing they are all laughing and drinking all night long.
How did they do that?
(Kathy: Wasn't Ewen the name of the son who died at any early age?)
|Dear Aunt Morag,
Home at last - not to the
Morgan or Rothchild estates, Portree or Pilgrim Avenue - rather to dear Fred, his
"Toots" home again at last, forever, as surely bound together as the day I saw
My love be with you both -
As aye, Catriona
Katharine Chappelear Bergstrom
|One night I had a dream that I was in Aunt
Morag's kitchen. It was my first ever dream of Aunt Morag. I had just walked in the front
door and followed the smells around through the living room, down the hall and into
the kitchen, taking in the smell of scones, orange cake, currant cakes and tea. All
those smells that will stay with me forever. The next afternoon Mom came by and told
me Aunt Morag had died. I cried so hard. She was such a great lady.
James (Jamie) MacInnes
for the Funeral of Morag Luckham
by the rector of the First Presbyterian Church
In this season of resurrection, with Easter lilies and other spring flowers lifting our
spirits from winter's darkness, it is fitting that we gather to celebrate the life of
Morag Luckham. She was a gentle and loving woman, devoted to her family and faithful to
She was blessed to live a long and full life. Born in Scotland, raised for much of her
childhood on the Isle of Skye, she came to America in 1927 and eventually made her home in
Glen Cove with her husband, Fred. Her gifts were many, but one stood out in the
conversation with her niece, Kathy, recently. Morag was always able and willing to listen
to family squabbles without ever taking sides. That is a magnificent gift. It is the gift
of peace making.
Certainly Jesus exhibited that gift, not allowing himself to be drawn into conflict,
but instead teaching by example and parable the deeper truth of life. God's love for all
humanity was such that it became incarnate in Jesus, who lived with all the human
struggles, and yet was obedient to dodge will even to the cross.
Morag gave of herself to all her loved ones in ways that will always lived in their
hearts. She incarnated her love in the ax of kindness and quiet devotion. Her nieces and
nephews especially have been given a sense of belonging, stretching back to Scotland and
in circling them wherever they go. Certainly she is now also embraced by loved ones who
preceded her in death. She is at home in her heavenly room prepared for her by Jesus.
Lord God, we thank you for the promise of life eternal sealed by Christ through his
death and resurrection. And we thank you for Morag Luckham, her time and love shared with
us, which we will cherish forever.