Rest in peace, Morgan W. Brown.
The housing advocate and fixture of Montpelier life has died after, as they say, a long battle with cancer. Word of his death was posted yesterday on Facebook by fellow advocate Brenda Siegel.
Before proceeding, a necessary acknowledgement: I’m far from the best person to memorialize Morgan. I knew him indirectly from his advocacy work and his Green Mountain Meandering Missives blog, plus that one time I had a cup of coffee with him. That was in the early stages of his illness, and I never sought another meeting because it seemed an imposition on an acquaintance with limited time remaining. But I have thoughts on his passing. Think of this is one pebble in the pond, not the final word on anything Morgan.
The above Muppetization of him and his beloved companion Miss Cleo adorns his YouTube channel, but it seems appropriate here because Morgan was a gentle soul who seemed to have been born on the wrong planet. He needed and deserved a more welcoming environment. Our world is a little colder without him.
Morgan’s final blogpost, dated November 20, bears the one-word title “Empathy.” It recounts the kindnesses he has received since his diagnosis many months ago from “Nurse Cleo” and from his neighbors and friends. It wasn’t the first time he wrote of his gratitude (tinged with surprise) that so many cared about him and wanted to help.
I never asked him for his life story. From hints and inference, it was mostly an unhappy one. He got kicked around by life quite a bit. I know from experience that retelling such a tale, even to a sympathetic ear, feels trite and burdensome at the same time.
Given what came before, I’m glad that he spent his later years in a stable living situation that suited him, and with a sense of purpose
Before he died he gave his writings to Siegel, who will work with his son to secure their future in some form. Meanwhile we have his blog, which was always full of heart. And we have this poem, “In Lieu of Flowers (Remember and Care for the Living)” shared by Siegel in her Facebook post.
For those living unhoused,
abandoned to the streets,
left to live in the woods,
underneath bridges,
sleep in dumpsters and the like;
it is far too late to think of,
remember fondly, send flowers
or otherwise honor and memorialize them
after they have languished and died from lying wet,
frozen, alone and forgotten,
due to deliberate indifference
as well as from a lack
of sufficient caring and empathy
by their fellow human beings.
The Vermont Political Observer. 
Thanks for this tribute to Morgan. The Digger did a good one as well. I lived down the hall from Morgan, in the public housing complex where he finally found something stable, for the last six years and knew him before that. He was a fixture here. We talked all the time, about our lives, our activism, about getting old in a collapsing democracy, and so on. He would send some of his writings by me to see what I thought of them.
I remember a year or so ago, or maybe longer, that he came to me, complaining of an agonizing pain in his stomach area. I implored him to go to a doctor, but the system that had been so cold to him throughout his life, also made him shy about going up to it when he really needed it.
When the awful news finally came, we would talk about it and his decisions about facing it. I watched the hideous cancer devour him. The last time I saw him was a couple weeks ago before he left where he had a home, albeit a small one, for so long a time. He was going to hospice. He had something that he wanted to give me. He walked down the hall to his apartment, supported by his walker, came back with it on the walker, and handed it to me with great solemnity. We both knew that this would be the final time that we would see each other in this world. We hugged, I thanked him, and he ambled away and was taken away a little while later.
You’re right in that Morgan was born on the wrong planet, but at least he got a little something and he had the guts to fight for those the system sweeps under its feet. Even though I knew it was coming soon, it’s still hard to digest.