Michael T. McCarthy

Michael T. McCarthy, 88, of Plymouth, Michigan, passed away peacefully at 1:00 a.m. on his birthday, 88 years to the day after he was born. Those who knew him weren't surprised; it seemed fitting. A lifelong Michigander who split his time between Plymouth and his beloved condo in Venice, Florida, Michael T. lived a full and remarkable life. Michael T. was the son of an Irish milkman. Born and raised in Detroit, he carried pride in that heritage throughout his life, a legacy passed down from his father, John, who immigrated from Ireland with only a single suitcase. Among the little he brought to start his new life, John made room for shamrock bulbs, tucked in a talcum tin, a small piece of home carried across the ocean. Michael was raised alongside his four brothers by John and his mother, Agnes, in a household where pitching in, cooking, cleaning, keeping the place in order, wasn't optional, and where making the bed first thing each morning simply wasn't up for debate. He held onto vivid memories of his Detroit childhood throughout his life: the streetcars, easy trips to Tiger Stadium, even boyhood excursions across the border to Canada. He served his country as a member of the 82nd Airborne Division before building a long and dedicated career in the automotive industry, the heart of his hometown, beginning with General Motors and later spending more than 35 years at Detroit Diesel. It was there he learned one of his most enduring lessons: when the assembly line went down, it didn't matter whose fault it was; what mattered was pulling together to get it running again. Michael met the love of his life, Joanne, when they were both very young, and the two married and began a family soon after. He worked hard his whole life to provide for them, and retirement was meant to be their shared reward: in 2000, they bought the condo in Venice, Florida, ready to begin a new chapter together. Joanne died just five years later, in 2005, as that chapter was only beginning. Somehow, Michael found a way to carry on. He painted and updated nearly every room in the house, tiled the kitchen and bathroom himself, installed wood floors in the family room, and kept the shamrocks alive. Home remained a sanctuary for him, none more so than the house on Trailwood, built in 1976, which stayed his primary residence for the rest of his life and the site of countless family gatherings over the decades. It's where he was “Grandpa” to many, and where he felt most himself. Fiercely independent, Michael continued driving his own car and living on his own almost to the very end. A man of endless curiosity, Michael never stopped learning. As a young father working full-time at Detroit Diesel, he found the time and drive to earn his associate degree, and, ever eager for something new, he later taught himself to play the banjo. He was very smart and had a genuine love of trivia, history, and understanding how things worked, and he was a natural storyteller who took real joy in passing those stories on. He was a voracious reader, especially of mysteries, often working through multiple books a week, and he passed that love of reading, and of libraries, down to his children and grandchildren. He also knew how to enjoy himself. He loved music, especially the 50s and 60s on Sirius XM, and was always up for a good concert or play. A true car enthusiast, he owned more than thirty automobiles over the course of his life. He loved baseball and the ritual of spring training games during his cherished time in Florida, and he was a Michigan State University football season ticket holder for almost 30 years, sticking with the team through lean years and good ones alike. Some of his favorite days were the simple ones, where the biggest question was “beach or pool?” Michael was a sailor with a deep love of the water and Michigan's lake life. He was our Captain. He sailed his beloved boat, the Pintail, well into his 80s, and for many years crewed larger sailboats on Lake Erie. Some of the family's happiest summers were spent at a cottage on Long Lake in Traverse City, where two weeks each year were given over to sailing days with the people he loved most. In Florida, he treasured afternoons with friends at the point in Venice, cigar in hand. He was an avid walker too, logging countless miles with his music playing in his ears, whether around the neighborhood at home or on the mile-long stretch from his condo to the Florida shore. He was also a familiar sight around his own yard, endlessly busy mowing, planting, and building a backyard oasis he took great pride in, and he had a particular fondness for painting, whether it was his own house or a family member's. He was a friend to many, though woodpeckers and chipmunks were notably excluded from that list. “Puttering,” he called it, and he brought that same restless helpfulness to other family members' homes too, always ready to pitch in on a project. In the kitchen, he had a couple of specialties he was known for too: a bagel and egg sandwich that no one could quite replicate, and a genuine talent at the grill. Anyone who knew Michael knew his voice: a hearty “What the hell?” or “Damn!” at whatever the day had thrown at him, followed, more often than not, by a shrug and his favorite philosophy: “What can you do?” And when words weren't enough, there was the eye roll, a signature move that could communicate disbelief, frustration, or amusement all on its own, and needed no translation for anyone who knew him. It was as good a summary of how he moved through life as anything: feisty, unbothered, and always ready for what came next. Michael also had a lifelong love of travel. Some of his fondest adventures were those shared with his family, with trips to Ireland holding a particularly special place in his heart. He was especially proud to have earned his Irish citizenship, and he never missed a chance to joke about his family's true birthright: Blarney Castle, historically known as “the McCarthy Castle,” stronghold of his own McCarthy ancestors; he liked to say he was simply headed back to reclaim it. That pride in his heritage lived closer to home too, in the very shamrocks John had carried from Ireland. Generations later, those same shamrocks, now blooming a delicate pink, still thrive, tended and passed down through the family, with Michael himself becoming something of an expert in keeping them alive. As the family likes to say: the shamrocks are like the Irish; they might go through hard times, but they always come back. Even in his final days, he was renewing his passport, still hoping for one more trip to Ireland and beyond, a fitting testament to a man who never lost his sense of adventure. Above all, Michael lived a life that showed it was possible to keep moving forward even when times were hard or not what was originally expected. No matter what, tomorrow was another opportunity to finish a project or start a project, or simply decide between beach or pool. A good sailing day could mean good winds, or it could mean floating around with no wind at all, having a picnic and the quiet chance to talk about whatever seemed important in that moment. Michael T. is survived by his four children, Diane and her husband Stephen, Michael W. and his wife Priya, Thomas, and Kevin, and his grandchildren: Sarah (daughter of Diane and Stephen), Regan and Michael Conor (children of Michael W. and Priya), and Olivia and Keelyn (children of Kevin). He is also survived by his brother, Bill. He was preceded in death by his wife, Joanne; his parents, John and Agnes; and his brothers, Elmer, Jack, and Dennis. Private family services will be held. Arrangements entrusted to Vermeulen-Sajewski Funeral Home, Plymouth. To share a message of condolence, please use the Share a Memory tab on this webpage.

Michael T. McCarthy

August 27, 1938 - August 27, 2026