Michael A. O’Malley

Michael A. O’Malley, 82, passed away in his sleep early December 7, 2023 in Plymouth, MA.  He is preceded in death by his parents, as well as his younger sister, Mary.

Born in Cambridge, MA on November 25th in 1941, Michael grew up in Somersworth, NH and graduated from the University of New Hampshire before starting a 35 year career as an advertising salesman for the New England Yellow Pages.

Michael is survived by his wife, Judith O’Malley (Murphy) of Bourne, MA, sons Michael of Sudbury, MA and Brian of Washington, DC, daughter-in-law and wife of Michael, Nicky, and grandchildren, Iphigenia, Murphy, and Lu.  He also leaves his sister Denise, of Newcastle, NH, and brother Jack of Beverly MA, as well as many loving nieces and nephews.

Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to greet the family during visiting hours on Tuesday from 4-7 PM at the Pyne Keohane Funeral Home, 21 Emerald St., HINGHAM. A Funeral Mass will be celebrated on Wednesday at 11:30 AM in St. Paul’s Church, 147 North Street, Hingham.  Burial will be private.

Donations in memory of Michael may be made to the American Cancer Society.

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Michael achieved greatness by practicing goodness, and met the world with open ears, open arms, and an open heart.

He was a unique presence in many lives, often described in loving, memorable terms: Mr. O.  Bender of Rules.  Friend of Bill.  Baby Whisperer.  King of Dogs. Proud Union Member.  Wilderness Experience Champion.  Descendant of Pirates.  Honorary Grandfather. Lambda Chi Brother.  Lifelong Democrat.  Road Tripper.  Stogie Aficionado.  Voice of Hanover Football.  The first call when you were in trouble.  Eternal Optimist.

He treated everyone with the same respect, from presidents to parolees, and would greet friends and strangers equally, with terms of endearment ranging from “sweetheart” to the unprintable.

Michael’s super power was showing up wherever and whenever he was needed.  Emergency rooms, classrooms, holding cells, church basements, funeral homes and, importantly, broken homes.  Michael would be there, unexpected, unannounced, but very, very present.   A hug from Michael meant you were welcome, loved, and safe.

He was his own man, but he belonged to all of us.