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General
Holiefield,
My
Gentle
Giant
Detroit-based
photojournalist
Monica
Morgan,
shares
her
story of
love and
loss
By
Monica
Morgan/Tell
Us
Detroit
DETROIT
(Tell Us
Det) -
General
Holiefield
saved
Chrysler.
It can't
be
disputed.
My
husband
was a
hero,
but he
was far
too
humble
to take
credit.
If you
said
that,
he'd
flash a
big,
boyish
grin and
say, "No
man is
an
island.
There
are so
many
others
who were
instrumental."
He was
quick to
mention
former
United
Auto
Workers
president
Ron
Gettelfinger
and the
UAW
International
Executive
Board.
"Thank
you.
Because
of you,
I have a
pension,"
were
common
greetings.
"Because
of you I
can
support
my
family."
And when
no one
thanked
him for
his
tireless
work,
which
impacted
the
livelihood
of
nearly
1.5
million
active
and
retired
autoworkers
worldwide,
he'd
say, "I
don't
expect
any
thanks.
I get my
blessings
from
God."
He
believed
the
"shortcut"
to
eradicating
poverty
was one
job at a
time—through
organized
labor.
He kept
fighting
for the
rights
of
workers.
General
served
two
terms as
UAW vice
president
for
Chrysler's
heavy
truck
division.
He
accomplished
monumental
advances
for UAW
members
and
their
families,
especially
during
the
difficult
days
that led
to
Chrysler's
2009
bankruptcy.
Then,
the
number
of
workers
here had
been
reduced
from
42,000
during
the
company's
peak to
some
21,100.
He and
Gettelfinger
provided
leadership
from the
White
House to
Capitol
Hill to
Wall
Street,
helping
President
Barack
Obama's
team
structure
the
Chrysler
comeback.
By the
end of
2014,
the year
he
retired,
more
than
35,700
workers
were
working
at
Chrysler.
Like the
company
he
saved,
in many
ways he
saved
me.
I was a
shell of
a woman
married
to my
career,
running
toward
bombs to
create
newspaper
front
pages,
risking
my life
to
photograph
the
devastation
of
Katrina
and
aftermath
of 9/11.
I had
given up
on
finding
love.
General
took me
by me
hand,
told me
he
didn't
play
house
and
wanted
to marry
me. He
said,
"Someone
loves
you, and
you're
not
chasing
any more
bombs."
He
married
me twice
in the
same
year,
2012.
The
first
time to
solidify
our love
and the
second,
for me
to have
a
fairytale
wedding
in
Venice,
Italy
with a
Mediterranean
honeymoon.
He told
me that
he
"thanked
God for
me every
day."
He would
write
the most
beautiful
messages,
leave
romantic
voicemail
messages.
He was
the
kindest,
most
compassionate
man and
made me
melt
when he
called
me "kid"
or "Moni."
He knew
that I
loved
dancing,
so he
learned
how to
ballroom
dance.
And as
we
danced,
I became
engulfed
in a
love so
passionate
it left
me
breathless.
He never
tried to
persuade
me to
his way
of
thinking.
He said,
"I
married
you for
you. Do
you."
And yet,
living
with him
caused
me to
look at
the
world
differently.
Although
almost
6-foot-3
with a
robust
frame,
he was
my
gentle
giant
and gave
the
greatest
bear
hugs. He
gave me
true
love. He
made me
want to
be a
better
woman,
to be
softer,
kinder,
more
understanding
and
never
say, "I
told you
so." He
taught
me how
to smile
again.
But he
didn't
prepare
me for
how to
live
without
him.
On March
9, 2015,
not long
after
being
diagnosed
with
pancreatic
cancer,
he
transitioned
from
this
life,
holding
me in
his arms
with The
Temptations
playing
in the
background.
And when
he took
his last
breath,
I wanted
him to
take me
with
him.
Many
days, I
just
want to
stay in
the bed.
But I
get up
and work
on a
plan to
keep his
legacy
alive.
Our
story is
not
over.
General,
who
spent
over 41
years at
Chrysler,
fought a
good
fight.
Memories
somehow
keep me
going.
That's
what
he'd
want for
me. So I
smile
through
the
tears
and move
forward.
His love
for
workers
endures,
as well
as his
love for
me.
Monica
Morgan
is a
Detroit-based
photojournalist.
She
served
as Rosa
Parks’
personal
photographer
and once
was
cited as
‘Detroit’s
best
photographer’
by
former
Mayor
Coleman
Young.
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