Michael F. Burke

Stardate 04-29-25: Michael F. Burke, 74, of Newark, DE, if he's being musically poetic would like you to know he has gone to "the spirit in the sky," but really he would think it funnier to quote Dr. Leonard McCoy by saying, "He's dead, Jim." As a Trekkie, he had a wood-paneled boat of a station wagon complete with "Starfleet Academy" and "Vulcan Science Academy" window stickers until his lead foot rendered it, like many of his vehicles, star-dusted. Warp speed was the only speed; however, Earthly vehicles were not built to be starships, much to his chagrin.
Born to Anna and Paul Burke, Michael lost his father at a young age. Anna later married Robert Smith, and together they had Beth Ann. All three preceded Michael in death. He grew up in Parkesburg, PA, which, geographically, made him a lifelong, and often long-suffering, fan of the Eagles and Phillies.
Michael, known by many names - Mickey, O'Gimper, and Saturday Night Mike (thanks to his weekly order at the local sub shop)- is survived by his wife of nearly 47 years, Joan Burke, and their three daughters: Lorrie (Vincent) Jackson, Caitlin Burke, and Allison Burke. He was the beloved Poppi to Madigan, Declan, and Morgan Jackson.
Michael spent most of his career at F. Schumacher & Co., with a few years at A. Duie Pyle. His job? A mystery to most. "Something with computers" was the default guess. Sometimes he wore a T-shirt labeled "OPERATIONS," which his daughters thought was a joke about his many surgeries. In truth, he worked in operations management/IT-likely while wearing a silly tie, sweater vest, or a Hawaiian shirt. His style at home was an extensive T-shirt collection-most containing a character or witty joke of some sort.
He was Irish through and through, minus the drinking part, but he made up for that with a large collection of Guinness rugby shirts. Despite being a fair-skinned redhead, he loved the outdoors-always protected by a baseball cap, long sleeves, and high socks. At the beach, you'd find him under an umbrella, probably with caramel corn or an orange vanilla twist custard in hand. Truly a trailblazer in SPF awareness.
Music was a lifelong appreciation, especially from the '60s and '70s. This Beatlemaniac favored vinyl but was excited when he could bring his music on the move with an extensive CD collection and iPod playlists.
His legendary sweet tooth was unmatched. Vegetables were banned from his plate, but he could easily demolish a box of Nilla Wafers or Vienna Fingers and chase them with a bottle of soda.
Michael loved animals, especially the family dogs. He played rough with them, which usually ended in tail wagging chaos. The dogs were drawn to him, often resting near him to listen to his heart's mechanical "tick" a byproduct of one of his many surgeries.
An avid reader, Michael especially loved Stephen King and all things sci-fi. He carried a book everywhere. As a movie and TV show aficionado, he was a walking IMDB, able to name any actor and their entire filmography. This was thanks to endless rewatching of so many movies and TV shows. The MASH theme song will likely echo permanently in the minds of his family.
Throughout his life, he played many sports and even led his work's baseball league to a championship. Though he eventually hung up his cleats, he continued to "coach" and "referee" the Phillies and Eagles from his family room-loudly and colorfully. Jeopardy! was the only other program that got him animated, and he excelled at the trivia, especially history, likely honed by helping his daughters study for school all those years.
Michael was an artist and writer. He published a book of poetry, Moods for a Lonely Day, and had a talent for drawing and cartooning. He loved Snoopy and Donald Duck, and there's a vast memorabilia collection to prove it. He taught his kids the "right" way to color and insisted the comics be read first from each newspaper-especially Sundays. Rarely in front of the camera, he was often behind it, capturing nature, sunsets, and family moments.
A prankster to the core, Michael loved to make people laugh. As a kid, he gave nuns trouble in school (they were just trying to correct the grave offenses of being left-handed and having red hair), swung from the tops of sapling trees, and threw meadow muffins at friends. As an adult, he staged jump scares, buckled stuffed animals into the car, and pretended to be a zombie thanks to persistent nosebleeds.
He loved superhero stories-especially about ordinary people rising to heroism. Though his body had limitations from early on, his metaphorical heart was so much stronger than the physical one he was born with. He is dearly remembered for rescuing a fawn that had become frozen in the ice on the side of the road, evidence of his everyday heroism.
Christmas was his favorite time of year. Think Clark Griswold levels of enthusiasm, climbing onto the roof with a plastic Santa and reindeer. A well-known regular at the local Hallmark, he amassed an enormous ornament collection and always scored the coveted Singing Snowman featured that year. He would decorate for days and, inevitably, when it was time to take it all down, some Christmas item was missed and would remain up all year round.
He would want those he left behind to drive fast, buy the tee shirt, be Irish every day, wear the sunscreen, play the music, eat the sweets, roughhouse with the dogs, read the books, watch the movies and shows, cheer (or boo) the Philly teams, play the trivia, write the poems, take the pictures, pull the pranks, be the everyday hero, and make Christmas last all year.
Michael hoped technology would exist to allow him to be ejected into space like Spock. Sadly, it doesn't yet. Perhaps his family will take little pocketfuls of ashes, spreading them boldly where no man has gone before. He emulated Spock by shamelessly trying the Vulcan Death Grip on his children often. He would definitely want to leave us all with another Vulcan gesture, the salute, and the words:
"Live long and prosper."
In lieu of flowers, please make donations to:
Vitas Healthcare
302-451-4000
Humane Animal Partners
giving@hapde.org
302-440-3113
https://www.humaneanimalpartners.org/give/