Mr. Morgan was my childhood piano teacher, and was, I realized even then, incredible. He had gone to high school with my grandmother and remembered her fondly (she was a few years older). He was indeed an intense teacher, but I remember him really pushing through the theory portion himself even if I had trouble with it; his praises if I played something very well; the old style cleanliness of his house (the white paint on the trees, the plastic covering the sofas) and the kindness and happiness that he and Faye would have when he would bring me into the doorway of where she was resting to say hello. I am so saddened that I was not able to see him again as an adult - I would have told him that he inspired me to start a program teaching underprivileged children how to play piano because the skill had been so defining to my own life, and that as part of that definition - practicing and playing piano had paved the way to my becoming a hobbyist singer, an All-State clarinetist and ultimately a valedictorian of my own high school class who headed off to Harvard. There is no greater diligence and beauty learned than in playing the piano - and, particularly, in playing the piano under the tutelage of Mr. Morgan. He was truly amazing - could sight read anything and play it strong and percussed and filled with life. He would even sing some of the older tunes that I would mimic in secret and which have instilled in me still a love for old Hollywood and Broadway. Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I miss you, and I'm sorry that I wasn't able to see you again. I still have your Christmas C.D. and I hope to keep your memory and legacy alive. All of my love and the biggest of hugs <3 Your friend and former pupil, Ariana

The majority of my brother's and my piano education was spent with Mr. Morgan for almost 10 years. We had piano teachers before Mr. Morgan, but he was our most consistent and our last. He had high expectations of his students (Or as he would refer to them, "pupils.") and would clearly let students (and their parents) know if they needed to practice more. Piano lessons with Mr. Morgan were hard work, but he would always end a lesson with a smile, hug, and "Keep a song in your heart. I'll see you next week." Occasionally, he would play an embellished jazz tune for me on my way out. This man introduced me to favorites-- Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Gershwin, just to name a few. He inspired me to start accompanying at church and formed my discipline for practice. He grew me into a musician, and I attribute my Bachelor of Music to him. I carry the lessons that he taught me still to this day, and I treasure opening piano books with his instructions in his beautiful penmanship. He adored his wife and would give any moment to sing her praises. I grew to love his wife, too. They were like family to me. Since my grandparents live in the Philippines, I made them my honorary ones in Texas. And since he and his wife never had children, he thought of his pupils as his children. Lastly, we shared a love for Christ. Although Mr. Morgan had offers and opportunities to join "show business," he stayed local to teach and to play for church. While his health declined throughout my last years under his tutelage, his fingers remained nimble. After I graduated from college, I would visit Mr. Morgan only to see that his graceful fingers moved about the keys with the same rapidity that I had witnessed as a young girl. He had no doubts that God blessed him with agile hands throughout his life. He always credited his gift of music to His Creator, and this was his greatest lesson for me-- to play and to sing for the Lord. Soli Deo gloria. My condolences and love to his family. Eternal rest grant unto Mr. Morgan, O Lord, and may the perpetual light shine upon him.