Michael Henry Gardner

Michael Henry Gardner, 67, passed away on November 23, 2021, in Conway, South Carolina.

Michael was born August, 1954 in Goldsboro, North Carolina. He came from fine eastern North Carolina stock, hardworking, honest folks of good humor and abundant love. His mother, born Christine Carraway, was one of ten children, all of whom could sing. His father, Guy Gardner, was one of six. And they could all sing. Some of them played guitar, really played. His earliest memories included sitting mesmerized at the feet of his uncles, Jim and Gordie and Ed as they romped and sang Hank Williams senior. Both the Carraways and the Gardners provided him with a slew of fine cousins.

He learned much from his family, mostly love. He really knew how to dish it out, first and foremost to his wife Jill, whose compassion and care and tenacious devotion to him was limitless, and whose love, beyond any wedding vows, added more years to his life than we will ever know. His daughters, Jamie, Rebecca, Hannah and Stella filled him with pride in their accomplishments and more so in the women they came to be. They made him a whole person. And when he married Jill he received the bonus of four sons, John, Jason, Matthew and Jordan. He excelled as Grandfather; he was born for it. The unabashed child in him came out to play whenever the grands were around. He taught his grandson Landin Ellis to play guitar. He was favored with a sister, Rebecca, and two brothers, Phillip and Dennis, who precedes him.

Those who knew Michael think first of his gifts for music. But there were other gifts known well by those closest to him. From both the Gardners and the Carraways he received the gift for storytelling. He knew how to deliver a joke. And in the days before cell phones, he’d spend hard earned money on a long-distance call to tell you one. He was a great mimic, affecting the body language and inflections of the objects of his humor. In the presence of children, he would channel the voices of Walter Brennen and Donald Duck and their eyes would widen with delight. And he knew how to receive a joke too. If it was a good one, he’d toss back his head and bring his hands before him prayerlike and cackle with great pleasure. If it was a really good one, that cackle would rise an octave and take off to the land of howlers and land with a whoop.

He knew something of courage and sacrifice, the kind it takes to envision a dream and then follow it three thousand miles from home, to know how long the odds are and decide in favor of those odds over the life of regret that would have come from not pursuing that dream. From an early age, he also sought a spiritual essence, a path to a higher love.

He knew a great deal about friendship. He was devoted to it. Always open to it. He invited it and it came to him. What he had was more than charisma, although he could light up a room. What he gave and what he got was a genuine connection with others. His was more than generosity and kindness, more than sincerity and goodwill. A rollcall of his brothers-by-another-mother will attest to his loyalty and abiding faith in friendship. And no man ever had better friends that Kenny Soule and Pee Wee Watson.

When the three of them came together to write, record and perform something very special was born. All that was Michael came to life in the presence of Kenny and Pee Wee, and thousands of music lovers were the beneficiaries of that friendship and passion and love. All that talent. As a performer, all there was of Michael Gardner was on display. He dazzled us with his technical skills and impeccable sensibilities, his power and his tenderness, his boundless passion, that which emanated from the deepest, truest part of him.

And what he gave to us was joy.

Music is feeling. And what we feel for you, Michael, is sweet, loving music.

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