My Life, My Story (MLMS) is a VA program where Veterans are interviewed about their life story. The interview is written up into a first person narrative, reviewed with the Veteran and, with the Veteran’s permission, entered into the healthcare record as a resource for the care team to know more about the Veteran as a person, in their own words.

In 2024, Michael was interviewed by Samuel Taylor, M.D., Ph.D.. His story follows:

Michael J. Moore: Finding Art and Love through Struggle

Growing up in Stoughton, a poor working-class town, life was tough. I was one of seven kids, with five boys and two girls. Two of my siblings passed away early on, casting a shadow over our already challenging existence. I couldn't wait to escape that place. 

High school in Brockton was a blur of disillusionment. Religion, once significant in my life, lost its hold by the time I reached 7th and 8th grade. Dyslexia made academics a struggle, but I found solace in my ability to draw. It was a trip to a museum that truly ignited my passion for art. I was awestruck by the works of Frans Hals, Rubens, and Caravaggio and their power to convey emotion and beauty and I remember thinking “these guys could really paint!”

Life had other plans for me first, though, and shortly after high school around 1966 I got scooped up to fight in Vietnam. Service in the military didn't quite fit me. Raised in a violent and oppressive household with an alcoholic father, authority was something I couldn't easily abide by. To this day i find it hard to follow orders from those whom I don’t respect. One of my fondest memories in fact was hitchhiking with a buddy from training camp in Virginia to Boston for a weekend without getting caught. While in Vietnam, I served in the 2nd battalion 5th marines and saw my share of combat and brutality, but I never considered myself an “oora!” guy. Yet, it was during my time of service, amidst the hostility, that I learned the value of camaraderie and reliance on friends.

Returning to the states marked the beginning of a turbulent period in my life, filled with inner turmoil and depression. I was first stationed in a guard unit at Portsmouth navy prison, but as the days wore on, the monotony of my job and the ineptitude and capriciousness of my superiors wore me down. At one point I feared I would end up a prisoner myself, but I sought help. I met a compassionate psychiatrist at Chelsea Navy Hospital who helped me see that “the gain was in the pain,” and I had to confront my demons to move forward. Looking back, I think he might have saved my life. 

After my military service, I drifted, trying my hand at various pursuits. Eventually I turned to fishing to get by. I had some brief experience fishing before on lobster boats on the continental shelf, and I think I was drawn to fishing because of its sense of community, akin to the bonds forged in the military. Like in the military, though, I had to earn respect. I would drive down to New Bedford every morning and walk around the harbor asking for work. I must’ve known every captain and captain’s wife by the end, but finally after about a month I got offered a job. The vessel was a Norwegian scallop ship, and I was lucky that one of the crew didn’t show up, so I took his spot. It was hard work, and the skeptical and stoic crew barely spoke to me at first. I was born left-handed, but I learned to wield a knife with my off hand in order to keep up with the practiced technique of the others. After our first journey I was offered the chance to come out for the next trip, and from that point on I was a regular on one of the most prestigious boats in the business, a real money-maker. I could find a job in just about any crew at that point, and I was prepared to go king crabbing in Alaska, but at the last minute I called the captain and said I wasn’t going. I had gravitated to fishing because I sought comaradery and a paycheck, but art remained my true passion. 

It was a chance encounter that brought me to the canvas. I was living in a farmhouse around this time, and a master painter had come to town to give some classes. I was enthralled, and I joined him when he returned to New York City, eventually taking up studies at the Art Students League. I initially painted in the corner of the studio and hid my work, but eventually I became more confident and developed my own style. Life was still a struggle at this time, and to make ends meet I tended bar 5 nights a week. In addition to money struggles, I still was haunted by ghosts from Vietnam. Running became an outlet for me. The Marine Corps DC Marathon held a special significance to me, occurring on the same date as a difficult personal period during the war, and I resolved to get fit enough to run it. In the process I reunited with my old battalion and finally found some closure and healing for old wounds.

Life took unexpected turns, and as I continued to develop my skills and business as an artist, I found myself in Nantucket. It was there that I found love in Caroline, a beacon of light in the loneliness of New England’s winters. We connected deeply, and soon, we were building a life together, raising two sons, Tom and Will.

The recession of 2008 brought its challenges, but we weathered the storm, and I began to focus more on family. By then, we were living in a farmhouse in the close-knit community of Strafford, Vermont. Our two sons, Tom and Will, brought energy and light into those years. Vermont was an endless source of adventure for them—snowy winters, muddy springs, and the kind of freedom that only comes with small-town life. Watching them grow and explore reminded me of the simple joys in life and gave me a sense of purpose I hadn’t known before.

Yet, as age catches up with me, I confront new obstacles. Memory lapses and difficulty focusing in the studio raise concerns about dementia. But I am not alone. With Caroline's unwavering support and the knowledge that help is available, I face each challenge with gratitude and determination. 

Reflecting on my journey, I see how much I’ve been given, even in the face of hardship. From moments of deep struggle to finding love and creative fulfillment, life has been shaped by resilience and redemption. And as I navigate this new chapter, I am reminded that the gain is in the pain, and there is beauty to be found in the work I do to confront my obstacles and in the people who help me along the way.

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