From the time his daughter, Sara, was born in 1985, John Morgan '68 was a "house husband." A freelance photographer, he built a studio and darkroom at his home so he could be with Sara while his wife, Patti, taught school. He recalls carrying Sara in his backpack on photography assignments when she was an infant. "We were always together," he said.
"I don't want to say we had an ideal lifestyle, but we were very happy," Morgan said. "The three of us went skiing, took trips, had wonderful times together. It was a great life."
Then, in 1993, Patti was diagnosed with leukemia. She got better, then worse, was hospitalized for a bone marrow transplant, improved briefly, then began slipping again. John and Sara left their small Colorado town for several weeks early in December 1993 to live in an apartment near Patti's hospital at the University of Nebraska. For at least two hours every morning, John tutored Sara in her basic third grade subjects and the two spent the remainder of the day at the hospital. When Sara turned 9 on February 15, hospital staff threw her a party. Two months later, her mother died.
The bond that John and Sara had forged during her early years softened the blow for both of them. "She was used to being with me so the adjustment was easier than it might have been otherwise," Morgan said. "Of course, it was still a very difficult time."
Today, Morgan says, Sara, 12, is a confident, mature and well-adjusted girl who speaks frankly about her mother's death and its consequences. "She gets all of the credit," he said. "I don't know that I've done anything by design to make life easier for her. We've continued to live our lives and look to the future, but we haven't blocked out the past. We observe Patti's birthday when it comes. I get sad once in a while and so does Sara. We talk about it. We will never get over Patti's death, but we're doing okay."
Morgan says that as Sara enters adolescence, the challenge to fulfill her needs grows. They recently attended a class on girls' health issues despite Sara's insistence that she "learned all that stuff in Girl Scouts." Morgan was the only father in the class. "I do worry a bit about whether I can give her what she needs, but she seems to be very comfortable with herself. I don't want to be too protective, but I jokingly tell her that she won't have her first date until she's about thirty-five," he said.
Morgan says he has not consciously altered his life to accommodate Sara's, but some decisions are driven by his single-parent status. He retired recently as the Green Mountain Falls volunteer fire chief, partially to take advantage of the department's pension plan, but also because "I didn't feel good about getting calls in the middle of the night and having to leave my daughter home alone. And I can't afford to get injured. I'm all Sara has."
As Sara ages and the time since her mother's death lengthens, Morgan says her friends play a larger and larger role in her life. "Most of her friends are from families who fall outside the traditional norm," he said, "so she has something in common in that respect. One [of her friends] lives with grandparents, some are from divorced families; in fact, I can only think of one close friend who is from what you might call a traditional family."
Last summer Morgan sent Sara to a summer camp so she could sample life in a different environment and make friends outside of her regular circle. He wants to ensure that the closeness he and Sara enjoy does not restrict her development or inhibit her willingness to try new things. He thinks he is succeeding, perhaps too well. "When she leaves home it probably will be much tougher on me than on her," he said, chuckling.
"She's growing up. She has good self-esteem. She's involved in a lot of activities, has many, many friends. She's suffered a terrible loss, but she's going to be fine. I really think she's going to be fine."