Michael "Mike" Young Sr.

Michael Lee Young Sr.

October 21, 1939 – September 21, 2026

On the wings of a snow-white dove.

Michael Lee Young Sr., fondly known as Pawpaw to many. was born in Houston, Texas, on October 21, 1939, to E.H. “Pete” Young and Marie Young. The youngest of three children, Mike was preceded in death by his parents; his sister, Debbra Muth; his brother, Richard Young; and his former wife, Frances “Lucky” McDonald.

He leaves behind his children whom he was enormously proud of: Gwin Young and her partner, Tim Reininger; Mickey and her husband, Lan Freedman; and Mike Young and his wife, Tiffany.

That pride only grew with his grandchildren: Darwyn and her husband, Tim Costello; Keegan Bosco; Mason Bosco; Brennan Bosco; Jack Freedman; Harrison Freedman; Creed Young; Colton Young; Monika Self; and Dalton Self.

Mike also leaves behind his sister-in-law, Lee Ann Motley and her husband, Wiley; and his brother-in-law, David McDonald and his wife, Evon; and his former wife and dear friend Carol Goulet, along with numerous nieces, nephews, in-laws, extended family members, and friends. Wherever Mike, Wiley, and David were together, there was usually trouble or, at the very least, a story that would eventually need explaining. The three shared the kind of friendship that made family gatherings considerably more entertaining.

Mike was raised in parts of Louisiana, Mississippi, and eventually Texas. Over the years, he found his way to several small East Texas towns. He was never a fan of big cities and believed that if a town had a traffic light, it was probably time to move.

Being hearing impaired in the 40’s made his formal education an adventure of its own. Mike graduated from Mid-City Baptist High School thanks in no small part to Mr. Powell, the principal, who somehow found a way to pass him each year. Before that, he played football and was a pretty good track star at Metairie High School in New Orleans. He was also fantastic at finding sweet girlfriends willing to write an English paper or complete a math worksheet for him. He claimed he only got caught cheating once, when he passed his hearing aid to a girl so she could whisper the answers to a test. He went on to attend Jones County Junior College in Ellisville, Mississippi. Freshman English, however, was not to be conquered. He valued education and pushed his children and every one of his grandbabies to keep learning, go to college, learn a trade, and make something of themselves. Their accomplishments brought him tremendous pride.

He worked in many industries, including oil and gas and entrepreneurial quests, but found his way to Kelly Springfield Tire Company, where he provided loyal service for more than 20 years. He left Kelly Springfield with the “gold” watch, a fused neck, a bit of asbestos lining his lungs, and a fierce determination that his children and grandchildren should get educated so they would never work in a factory unless they chose to.

He married Carol Goulet, and they had two daughters in quick succession, Gwin and Mickey. They had a great time together, but ultimately, they were not equipped to stay married. Their marriage may not have lasted, but the friendship, admiration, and love they shared for their family certainly did.

Mike soon moved to Whitehouse, Texas, and married Frances Viola McDonald. Together they had one son, Michael Jr. It apparently took a few doctors to reassure him that he was, in fact, finally the proud father of a boy.

Gwin and Mickey spent blazing hot summers with them in Whitehouse and always returned to Houston with feet stained a slight orange hue from the East Texas dirt and clothes carrying the now fondly remembered scent of black tar roads. Summers with Gwin, Mickey, and Michael Jr. meant chasing the ice cream man. They were filled with rides in our favorite blue Ford pickup truck with no A/C, T ball games, Snickers bars and Dr Pepper for breakfast, Frito pie for dinner, dominoes, and pots and pots of coffee with the neighbors.

After retiring, Mike lived in Daingerfield with 50 acres to entertain his grandchildren. The Bosco kids especially loved those years. Somehow, they managed to keep all ten fingers after each Fourth of July. Each came away with a scar or two and countless memories of riding four wheelers, running wide open through the pasture, and enjoying the kind of childhood that becomes more precious with time.

In his final years, Mike moved to Mount Vernon, Texas, where he lived with his son and family. Their home also included Tiffany’s grandmother, Lajuan, with whom he developed a deep and special friendship that lasted through his final days. Tiffany cooked his favorite Cajun foods, as everyone knew, the surest way to his heart was through his belly. During those years, his youngest grandsons were born, and he had the gift of watching them and one of his granddaughters grow. Often beginning the day together over a cup of coffee and plenty of laughter. Retirement gave him the chance to relive some of the best parts of raising his own children through his grandchildren. There were walks down the long driveway, fishing in the ponds, football, and baseball games, FFA competitions, and countless ordinary days.

Family came first, but training dogs was a very close second, followed by hunting quails and squirrels along with fishing. Those pursuits provided enough stories to last the family for generations and maybe the reason Michael Jr is a little hard of hearing himself. Some of those stories may have improved with age. Others really did not need any embellishment. There was, for example, the infamous friendly fire incident across a quail field with Lucky that ended with shotgun pellets being removed from places no hunter particularly wants to discuss.

He loved to laugh, have a good time, indulged in storytelling, Crown Royal, wireline, and talking just to be talking. His family will remember the laughter, the hunting stories, the dogs, the road trips, the domino games and coffee, the East Texas summers, and the lessons, both intentional and otherwise. His children or grandchildren will never wonder if he was proud of them or whether they were loved; he always made that clear. We will miss him dearly, speak of him often, and probably continue telling his stories with just a little more flair each time.

He has now reunited with his siblings, parents, and friends in Heaven, and Lord knows; it is a party. We hope that somewhere in the middle of that reunion are all his favorite hunting dogs,

In keeping with Mike’s spirit; there will be no formal service. Instead, when the time feels right, gather with the people you love. Tell one of his stories. Or tell your own story that gets a little better every time you tell it. Laugh loudly. Pour some Crown Royal. Raise a glass in Mike’s honor.

Cheers to you, Dad.

We will feel your love every day.

We would like to give special thanks to Chamber’s Hospice and his nurse Candace who treated him so wonderfully and to Brittany for being and staying with us Monday night. We would also like to thank Cypress Springs Wellness & Rehabilitation for the incredible care he received over the last few months. April, Robyn, Mercedes, Laquita, and “Mo” (and many others), thank you for taking care of our dad, and us, during this time. We are thankful for you!