Remembering Tom Morgan by Robbie Gill

This morning, I learned of Tom Morgan’s passing at the age of 95.

If there were a Mount Rushmore of the Easton Family YMCA, Tom’s face would certainly be on it—alongside the many people over the years who helped make this YMCA what it is today.

With Tom’s passing, we lost one of those special people who helped define what the YMCA means to a community.

For nearly two decades, after retiring from a career with Coca-Cola, Tom was the person who opened the YMCA every morning, Monday through Friday. He was there before most of us were awake, welcoming members beginning at 4:45 in the morning.

When I moved here in 2004, Tom was one of the first people I met. He was bright, cheery, energetic, and genuinely interested in everyone around him.

And Tom knew everybody.

From 4:45 until 9:00 every morning, he knew the people walking through those doors—their names, their families, their routines, and what was going on in their lives. For a lot of people, I think seeing Tom was every bit as important as the workout, the swim, or whatever else brought them to the YMCA that morning.

They weren’t just coming to exercise.

They were coming to see Tom.

I remember every year Tom would take some time off to go deer hunting with his son. It was a big deal for Tom and his family. One year, while they were dragging a deer back to the truck, Tom had a heart attack.

He ended up in the hospital, and you would have thought the YMCA had stopped functioning.

People were in a panic.

Every morning it was, “Where’s Tom? How’s Tom? When is Tom coming back?”

And when he finally did come back, it was like welcoming home a long-lost friend.

I think that story says more about Tom—and more about the YMCA—than just about anything I could say.

You can look at the Y and see a big building. You can see fitness equipment, swimming pools, programs, and thousands of people coming and going.

But ultimately, the YMCA isn’t about any of those things.

It’s about people.

It’s about friendships. It’s about relationships. It’s about knowing that when you walk through those doors, somebody knows your name, somebody notices when you’re not there, and somebody is genuinely glad to see you when you come back.

It’s about feeling like you’re part of something bigger than yourself.

I often say nobody walks into the YMCA and says, “I missed you, treadmill number seven.”

But they missed Tom.

They loved Tom.

Tom was part of their morning routine. He was part of their YMCA. And over nearly two decades, he became part of their lives.

Even later in life, when navigating the computer and some of the other parts of the job became more difficult, Tom was still there. Still opening those doors. Still greeting people with a smile. Still asking about their families. Still making people feel like they belonged.

Because that was Tom’s real job.

And nobody did it better.

Tom was a community leader in the truest sense of the word—not because of a title he held, but because of the lives he touched. He invested himself in the people of this community, and for nearly two decades, they invested themselves right back in him.

Buildings will change. Equipment will be replaced. Programs will come and go.

But people remember how you made them feel.

And generations of YMCA members will remember how Tom Morgan made them feel: welcomed, known, cared about, and part of something special.

That’s a life well lived.

Rest in peace, Tom.

Robbie Gill is the CEO of YMCA of the Chesapeake