Michael Ley 1950 - 2023

There are some people whose lives are so large and impactful that it is almost impossible to accept when they are gone. That’s just how it is with my dear friend, Mike.

I learned one of my most valuable life lessons from Mike when I was 25 years old. It was a lesson learned without any words exchanged between us. I can remember seeing Mike for the first time and I can also remember the thoughts I was having as he was unloading all his belongings out of his dark green Ford truck. Susie and I had moved out to Montana with a truck loaded to the gills with boxes of our stuff. Mike unloaded two duffle bags. I thought to myself that I couldn’t possibly have anything in common with this guy.

Mike was also coming to the mission in the Jesuit Volunteer Corp to work at St. Paul’s for the same two years that Susie and I were serving. I was raised in an orthodox Jewish family. I had been in college since 1969. I was working on a PhD in cultural anthropology. Mike had graduated from high school and became a carpenter. Shortly thereafter, he was in the army and served in Vietnam. He was headed out to Montana to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, and the two years in Montana was a part of my long-term plan.

It took about five minutes with each other to figure out that we were going to have everything in common that mattered. We spoke to each other about everything. We did all the things that the best of friends did with each other. One of my most vivid memories came shortly after Susie and I learned that she was pregnant. I hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. Everyone would shortly learn about it because Susie had horrible morning sickness and had to give up preparing the breakfast program for the kids at school. It was hard for her to find the time to fix breakfast in between throwing up.

Mike and I were in the Missouri Breaks hunting. Mike was hunting. I was shleping up and down the hills very early in the morning. It was beautiful. Mike and I took a break from the shlep and were sitting up on an outcropping watching the sunrise. I told Mike that Susie was pregnant and that I was going to be a father. We talked about how life was going to change for Susie and me.

We talked about everything … for 47 years. There were years when we weren’t in touch. But when we connected, we always picked up where we left off.

I hadn’t heard from Mike or Ligia for months. I am always thinking about them. I decided to write them a letter. Days after they got my letter, I received a message from Ligia followed by a phone call. Mike had fought cancer for years after being exposed to agent orange in Vietnam. He and I had talked about it during my visits to see them in Montana. Ligia told me that the cancer had metastasized, and he was put on very aggressive treatments. None of them worked. Mike was unable to speak to me because he had a tumor on his vocal cords. This conversation occurred just a few weeks before Mike died.

I had so many photographs of Mike from our time living together at the mission in Hays on Fort Belknap. I decided that I was going to send Mike and Ligia these photographs along with some of the memories we shared from those years. I sent them a few photographs and stories each day during those weeks. At the end of one of those days, Mike thanked me for our 47-year friendship. I shed some very sad and grateful tears. What a unique and wonderful and complicated relationship we shared. Mike and Ligia were with Pauline when she died. I felt so horrible that they both carried the same emotional burden that I hold every day from the loss of Pauline. I told them both that I felt this way. I know that they have both suffered with this trauma and loss.

Mike and I spoke often about the experiences we shared at the mission and on the reservation. We talked about writing a book about these exceptional memories but then decided that no one would believe that all these things actually happened. Susie and I relied on Mike often to keep us grounded during those times. He was solid as a rock, salt of the earth, filled with great life skills and common sense, a great sense of humor, and sensitive, generous, and kind. The friendship that developed between us during those times was intense and emotional. The depth of our relationship was magnified through the experiences we shared. Mike wrote to me that he had experienced anxiety attacks during those times but didn’t know what they were because he had never experienced them before. I was not in the least bit surprised. So much of what we were living with was unadulterated chaos and none of us were in the least prepared for all of what we were asked to do there. Mike depended on us as much as we needed him.

Ligia let me know when Mike passed away. Such a sad ending to such a magnificent and well-lived life.

Lesson: making assumptions about what a person brings to a relationship based on what they’ve done or where they come from is unwise. What could I possibly have in common with this guy? Everything.

While we lived in Hays, Susie and I were in a trailer at the mouth of Mission Canyon. Bill and Mike, both in the Jesuit Volunteer Corp, lived in the rectory at the mission with both of the priests. They often came up to our trailer to get away from the chaos. Our front yard was a ridge of the Little Rocky Mountains. It was a spectacularly beautiful spot through every season.

Susie and I spent lots of time up in the Little Rockies with Mike and the other volunteers. Mike took us up into the mountains through Mission Canyon or Whitecow Canyon. Both were such beautiful drives. Notice that Susie is dressed for the arctic tundra while Mike is not. Mike was in so many ways the veritable mountain man.

Mike loved to hunt and he hunted with everyone in the community. I went out hunting with Mike often. There was always meat in the freezer from Mike's activity. We spent so many hours in the breaks, on the prairie and up in the mountains hiking. Mike had his rifle and I had my camera. We were involved in so many activities at the mission and on the reservation. These were great times for us to share our stories and to support each other.

The mission had been in Hays on the reservation since the late 1800s. Hays was a community of about 120 households with 600 people. The mission was in many ways the center of the community. Most of the people in Hays were Catholic. Mass was celebrated every Saturday and Sunday. There were two priests, a brother, and seven sisters. There were about seven or eight volunteers also working at the mission. We had an elementary and middle school. We had the only public phone in the community. The mission offered many different recreational activities from bingo to teen and adult sports activities. Each of us took turns driving the mission school bus in the mornings and after school. I could write a whole blog about my experiences as a school bus driver, and perhaps I will.

The mission had to be self-sustaining. Most of the volunteers came to the mission with little idea about what our work was going to be. We learned on the job. We grew potatoes. We had chickens. We had a very large garden. We did everything that needed to be done. Mike was at the center of all of it. He was the consummate problem solver and the mission came with world class problems.

This was from a bible study session that Father held up in the meadow above Mission Canyon for the 7th and 8th graders. Today this meadow has become a place where the tribes hold pow wows and it is the location of the Sun Dance Lodge. Mike was a devote Catholic and was a wonderful role model for the boys.

This was from one of the weddings that was held at St. Paul's Mission during the time we were in Hays. That's Mike in the back row next to Edith and Venetia. I was up in the balcony taking photographs. During the service, Father asked me to come down to take pictures of the ceremony because their wedding photographer didn't show up. That's another story for another time.

Mike was an excellent carpenter. He taught a shop class for the 7th and 8th grade boys. They built model homes, gun racks, cradle boards, bookshelves, and picture frames. They learned such valuable skills from Mike.

Mike was also the gym teacher for the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th grade boys.

Mike also became the basketball coach for the St. Paul's Mission team. Mike didn't know anything about basketball but read books about how to play, the rules and how to coach. He became an excellent coach and the boys came in second in their division. We did what we needed to do to support our kids and the community. I had never held a gun in my life and taught hunting safety for the Montana Fish and Game Department so that the kids could be licensed to hunt both on and off of the reservation. I read the books and learned. That was life at St. Paul's Mission.

During one of Mike's gym classes in the early fall, he loaded the kids into the back of his truck and took them up to the mines in the mountains. I was teaching social studies but my schedule allowed me to join them. The boys loved Mike. They respected him and they admired him.

And at heart, he was every bit as much a kid as they were!

This is a very long story. I'll try to offer up the classic comic book version. Susie and I were going to Bozeman to do library research at Montana State University. It is a short distance from a spectacular ski resort - Big Sky. Mike and a friend from Indiana shared a room with Susie and I to save money. We were making $50 a month at the mission. Mike and his friend were going to ski while Susie and I were doing research. On the first day, Mike broke a vertebrae. He spent the rest of the weekend in bed. He asked me to go with his friend to keep him company since he already had a lift ticket. I reluctantly agreed as I had never skied. His friend spent a half hour with me on the training hill and he admonished me not to snow plow. He then went to the mountains where people break their backs. I took the lift up to the top of a beginner's hill which at Big Sky is a very long and steep drop. It took most of the afternoon for me to get to the bottom. Susie took this picture of me as I was sliding into home.

During our first year at the mission, we spent a great deal of time raising money for a Catholic Indian Congress that was going to be held in the summer. These photographs are from preparations for a pinochle party, pancake breakfast. The mission had invited the leaders of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal for a long weekend prayer service and celebration. Mike was central to all of this activity.

Mike built these arbors for the services and celebrations, which included a give away by the Christian Mothers Group in the community. The Hays Singers also performed honor songs during the service. Susie and I were responsible for feeding the thousands of people who attended, three meals a day for three days. We had more than 50 women from the community who volunteered their services. I had boxes of fry bread stacked in the kitchen. We boiled the meat from an entire cow in a huge tub of water. One of my fondest memories was mixing enormous amounts of peanut butter and jelly in a Hobart mixer to make sandwiches. That was my brother Larry's suggestion - he was out visiting with his wife, Nancy, and my sister. Again, so many stories for another time.

Mike was so loved by the people in Hays. He was asked to be a godfather by good friends. This is from the baptism.

During the summer, Susie and I made a trip with Mike down to the Crow Reservation. Mike was good friends with the priest from the parish on Crow. We spent the afternoon hiking up into the Tongue River Canyon.

And this is so Mike.

Before we left Hays to return home after two years, Mike and I spent a day with a dear friend, Gordon Lodge. We hiked up to one of the peaks in the Little Rockies called Eagle Child. It is a very sacred place that involves the spirit quest. It was one of the most significant experiences the three of us had together. We sat next to the prayer beds and each of us said a prayer from our own traditions - A'aniiih, Catholic, Jewish. We prayed for each other as we were embarking on our own journeys.

Gordon also took us out to a buffalo jump on the prairie. I will always have memories of Mike in his green Ford truck. He drove it to places where a truck just isn't supposed to go, and he did so regularly.

The day before Susie and I left Hays to return to Ohio, the mission held a pow wow to dedicate the new gym. The pow wow started with an honor song and the dancers who initiated the event were our service veterans. They were led by a veteran holding a coup stick. That is Mike directly behind the lead.

At the same pow wow, that is Mike with another dear friend, Irma Gone, doing an owl dance.

After Susie and I returned home, Aaron was born. We both went back to work in Columbus, and I began writing a dissertation. Mike went back to Fort Wayne to decide the next leg of his journey. He made a trip down to Columbus to see us and to meet Aaron. This is Mike siting in our kitchen when we lived on Carolyn Avenue.

Mike went back to Montana and worked with Father Pete to build a church on the Rocky Boy Reservation. When I came for a visit in 2014, Mike took me to the church. It was beautiful. After Pauline died, it was the same Father Pete who said the last rites for her.

Susie and I received a call from Mike shortly after he completed the church. He told us that he was going to attend a seminary and become a priest. We gave him our very Jewish response. We told him that there was a woman who was going to miss out on a wonderful husband and children who were going to miss out on a wonderful father. Mike was the only person who was accepted into the seminary without a college education. I was not in the least surprised. There was no college graduate who could match the life experiences that Mike had acquired in his three short decades.

Mike eventually got to the place where he wanted the things that Susie and I had spoken to him about. He married Ligia and they had two beautiful sons together. Both Mike and Ligia worked in Havre and lived on a beautiful piece of land up in the Bear Paw Mountains just off of the Rocky Boy Reservation. The Bear Paws always had a place in my heart because we saw these mountains every day to the west when we lived in Hays.

I made a trip out to visit Mike and Ligia in 2014. This is their place up in the hills. The log house next to their home was a project Mike was working on for someone who asked him to build it for them.

Mike also built this log house that was located just below their home. He was an exceptional craftsman.

And, of course, he and I took hikes up into the mountains.

One afternoon we drove up to the Canadian border to find this place on the Milk River. I also had memories of this river from my time in Montana as it formed the northern boundary of the Fort Belknap Reservation. The Milk River originates in Glacier National Park and runs east. The area Mike took me to was covered with tipi rings and must have been a regular hunting grounds for the tribes in this area for centuries. It was one of the most beautiful places I had ever been and wanted for Pauline to see it when we made our visit in 2017. Pauline died on our way out to this place.

We also drove out to Fort Benton and had dinner there. This is the Missouri River in Fort Benton at sunset.

On one of the nights, there was a lunar eclipse. Ligia and I woke up in the middle of the night to watch it, and I took some photographs through the clouds.

There is no way to describe the beauty of Mike and Ligia's home, so I am going to let the photographs do it for me.

Pauline made the trip out to Montana with me in 2017. We stayed with Ligia and Mike.

We were sitting on their porch in the evening when I took these photographs of Mike and Pauline. She had a wonderful visit with Mike and Ligia. Pauline had some spiritual questions that had concerned her for a long time. She discussed these with Mike and Ligia and was able to obtain some answers from trained professionals - a former priest and a former nun. Pauline died the next day.

During the time I was texting with Mike and Ligia the weeks before he died, Ligia was able to send me some photographs of Mike. The day before he passed away, she asked him if he wanted to get out of the house for a while, which he did. She drove him up into the Bear Paws for a final visit to the mountains he so loved with the woman he so loved.

Michael “Mike” Ley died April 1, 2023, after a decades-long battle with cancer. He is survived by his wife Ligia Arango of Havre MT, children Phillip Ley of Libby MT, Miguel Ley of Bozeman MT, Brothers Rick Ley of Fort Wayne IN, Phil Ley of San Antonio TX, Tim Ley of Fort Wayne IN, and Sister, Nancy Brown (Dave Brown) of Murfreesboro, TN.

Mike was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana and was one of five children. Mike grew up hunting and fishing with his brothers and good friends in the forests of the Fort Wayne area, attended St Jude elementary and later graduated from Bishop Dwenger High School. A few years after high school, Mike served as a carpenter in the United States Army and was deployed to Vietnam from 1971 to 1972.

After he returned from his military service, Mike went to a garage sale that was set up to benefit the Catholic mission in Hays, Montana. He went on to move to the Hays mission and worked there for two years. It was during this experience that he felt a calling to serve his community and attend the seminary to be ordained as a Catholic Priest. After being ordained, He was a priest in Lewistown, Montana at St Leo’s parish for four years. The last 33 years of his life were spent in the Bear Paw Mountains where he started a family, worked as an Academic counselor for Stone Child College at Rocky Boy, served as a volunteer hunter safety instructor, served his community as a rural volunteer firefighter, and was on the Great Plains Veteran’s Services.

Mike was a skilled carpenter, having numerous people in the community ask him to tackle their big and small construction projects in the summer months. He loved to hunt in the Bear Paw Mountains with his children and his friends creating wonderful lifetime memories. He enjoyed his time with his family and used his skills to serve his community.

May his memory be a blessing.

May her memory be a blessing.