Alan Burke

Alan Burke was a man with a great sense of humor, a passion for truth and justice, a loving husband, father, grandfather, and friend, and a keen spotter of bad grammar.

In 1948 Dennis W. and Iona (Allen) Burke welcomed home their third child, Alan, on April 22nd in Detroit, Michigan. Joining his older siblings, Patrick and Diane, and later followed by his baby sister, Colleen, his childhood was filled with many happy and memorable moments. Holidays were especially anticipated as they were always shared with his beloved Uncle Maurice and Aunt Blanche, and his favorite Aunt Louise.

Born to a set of hard-working parents, Alan appreciated hard work from an early age. He thought he should earn his keep, so at the age of 10 he took on a paper route for the Detroit News. Since he was underage for a route, he “borrowed” his brother Pat’s name and age and went into business as a young entrepreneur. He claims his parents kidnapped him and moved him to Michigan City when he was 14. The saving grace is that he and his dad stopped in Paw Paw, the home of his Detroit Tigers hero, Charlie Maxwell, as they moved to their new home.

In 1966, he graduated from Elston High School. His father, an Irish immigrant, was a strong advocate for all the educational opportunities available in the United States. He encouraged Alan to pursue his education and Alan was admitted to the University of Notre Dame in the fall of 1966. During his undergraduate years, he made lifelong friends: Pasquale Leonardo, Mike Prendergast, and Tom Schaller. They shared adventures through the years including 2023. The turning point in Alan’s life was in the summer of 1968. While working a summer job at Arno Tape Manufacturers, he was involved in a serious accident leaving his right hand badly injured. As he framed it, he was no longer right-hand determinant, but left-hand requirement. His Aunt Louise became his teacher in learning how to write and how to perform daily tasks with his left hand.

Since Alan was no longer a candidate to become a brain surgeon (a conversation he had with the ER doctor on the day of his accident), he applied to and was accepted by Notre Dame Law School, graduating in 1973. He was hired as an attorney at the Northern Indiana Legal Defenders Office. Since Legal Services was a federally funded program (read de minimus salary) Alan moved his young family to Rochester, IN in 1978 and joined in a private practice with Richard Kehoe. Alan found his niche as a small-town lawyer and thrived in Rochester. He was honored and respected by members of the community for his knowledge, professionalism, and humanity.

Alan met Rosemary in December 1985. She knew immediately he was the man of her dreams; he was attracted to her hot pink socks. A little shy, it took him a minute to recognize his destiny, but when his friend Charlie told him “If you don’t ask her out, I will” he picked up the pace. They were married on August 22, 1987, on the banks of St. Mary’s Lake on the campus of Notre Dame.

Alan loved to laugh and to make others laugh. He was known to intimidate would be boyfriends of his daughters by claiming the garbage can just run over by the boyfriend was a family heirloom. He once threw himself on the floor of a department store when Katie said she would like a jacket at the price of $35.00. (The staff thought he had a heart attack). He showed up at a friend’s 40th birthday celebration pretending to be a cranky octogenarian. He scared the living daylights out of Jennifer’s 8th grade friends pretending to be Quasimodo.

Alan was both a philosopher and a writer. His eulogy for his father speaks to both of these attributes and to Alan himself:

“It seems to me that any life can be a parable – a story that teaches lessons. And if the person whose life we are talking about was a parent, then for better or worse, it will be a parable. My father’s life taught me many lessons.

Lesson One: We are placed on this earth to learn how to love. If we work at it and are lucky, we have a spouse upon whom we can practice this most important life work. And if we are any good at it with our spouse, maybe it will move out to our children. And if we work really hard, maybe that love will continue to move outward in concentric circles to our neighbors, our co-workers, the person we have just met, and maybe even the guy who cuts us off in traffic.

Lesson Two: We must carry in our hearts, at all times, an abiding passion for justice. I remember a Saturday when I was about eight years old, and I had the privilege to go with my father to his office in Detroit. We were driving down a major road with four lanes in each direction separated by a large grassy median. Block after block, the median was virtually full of men who were just standing there. And all these men, hundreds of them, were black. I asked my father why these men were standing there. He said, “They are just like me. They want to work; they want to support their families. But they can’t find work. So they stand there each day hoping that someone who needs some laborers for a day will stop and give them a day’s work.” Even at age eight, I could recognize that it wasn’t chance that my white father was driving to work while these black men were desperately seeking it.

Lesson Three: Laughter is more than just a social convention or a way to break the ice. Laughter is an important analgesic for the soul. It helps bind people together. My father was a master teller of jokes, a real raconteur, until his later years when he would forget the punchline. He would flawlessly tell the build-up to the joke and then get to the punchline; stop; look a little bewildered; then turn to my mother who understood, as only long-married couples can read the non-verbal language of their spouse, that he was asking for help. She, having heard my father tell the joke many times before, would then deliver the punchline. The joke, whether or not it was the least bit funny would always bring uproarious laughter because of the delivery by this unlikely comic duo.

What hadn’t occurred to me until I delivered this little speech to the assembled family and friends in the church was that Lessons Two and Tree are really just derivative, or naturally flow from, Lesson One. My father’s abiding passion for justice; his reaching out to others through humor was his way of putting into practice, every day, Lesson One. Thanks Dad, for the parable that was your life.”

Alan’s eulogy for his father completely sums up his own philosophy, his grace, his tenderness for all of humanity. He will be deeply missed. His trademark humor, style, and compassion will be remembered by all who loved and knew him. May his family and special friends always live their lives as a reflection of his steadfast compassion for others and may his warm memories live on in their hearts forever.

Alan Burke, age 75 of Kalamazoo died on Wednesday, February 21, 2024, at Rose Arbor Hospice. He is survived by his wife, Rosemary; his two children: Jennifer Burke Santoro (Phil Santoro) and their son, Philip Santoro IV, Kathryn Baxter-Stewart (Lance Stewart) and her children Austin Baxter and Eva Baxter; Rosemary’s children: Catherine Batts (Steve), Bridget O’Ryan (Irune), Timothy Ryan (Natalie), and Brenda O’Rourke (Dan); 3 Siblings: Patrick Burke (Wende Smith), Diane (Mike) Kuhl, Colleen (Wayne) Barnard. Cremation has taken place and services will be held Saturday, April 20th at 2pm on at the Betzler Life Story Funeral Homes, 6080 Stadium Drive, Kalamazoo (269) 375-2900. A reception where food, drinks, and stories will be shared will be held immediately following in the Life Story Center. Visit Alan’s webpage at BetzlerLifeStory.com to archive favorite memories, photos, and to sign his guestbook. Memorial contributions may be made to St. Luke Episcopal Church or Open Doors.