GREENVILLE―Michael Adam Werking, also known as Opa, Pops, Uncle Muck, or Farmer Mike, age 68, died on Thursday, June 25, 2026, surrounded by loved ones at Albany Medical Center, after fighting a rare and aggressive cancer.

Michael was born May 21, 1958 in Albany, NY to Arthur and Eleanor Werking. He lived most of his childhood on Cedar Lane in Greenville, NY. Michael graduated from Greenville Central School District in 1976 and attended SUNY Morrisville where he got his associates degree. The oldest of four children, Michael was a creative child who could reverse engineer anything. From a young age, he understood how things fit together. He could repair any engine, build any contraption like an apple cannon with PVC pipe, or a wood splitter (which he put to good use with the family), and envision grand plans for everything from stone walls to house blueprints.

In high school, he explored his agricultural interests, tolerated academics, pushed against the rules, and excelled at playing basketball. He would recount memories from his college days with his friend Joe Snyder. He used to laugh about driving through Cherry Valley during a snowstorm and Joe hanging out the window with a stomach bug. “If I stop this car, Joe, I might not get it going again…” With two years accomplished at SUNY, he was admitted to Cornell University although chose to work for New Holland in the Midwest, selling farm equipment. He would recall driving around the countryside, fixing equipment, and getting invited to stay for dinner by the local farmers. On one occasion, as they sat to eat, he realized the menu was centered around…cow tongue! He couldn’t bear to insult their generosity and steeled himself to eat the bumpy and chewy meat.

The Midwest was filled with other adventures. One fateful night, he met Linda Lou Lockhart while dancing in a bar. He gave her his number, “In case you ever have car trouble,” he told her. They would often laugh about the “battery trouble” that brought them together a few days later, and was a recurring theme in their lives. They married in Stanberry, Missouri on June 6, 1982. Michael and Linda lived together in multiple locations including Olathe Kansas, Cape Girardeau Missouri, Lancaster Pennsylvania, and Delmar New York.  

They were life and business partners for over 40 years. They co-owned and ran the business Albany Avenue Garage in Kingston, NY for over two decades. They were proudest to become parents to twin girls in January 1987. The girls arrived two months early and spent many weeks in the NICU. Michael loved to recount how they had to feed the babies, “We gave them 1 cc at a time, every two hours!” As he watched them in their incubators, he nicknamed them “glow worm” and “frogger.” As a father, he conveyed his love of sports, both on and off the field. He taught his daughters the importance of teamwork, practicing, and intimidation. Michael was a passionate viewer of football (Green Bay Packers), basketball (often routed for the underdog), Nascar (Bill Elliot), and baseball (Go Yankees!). It wasn’t a surprise if you heard him yelling at the screen “Come on!” or some other colorful language. He supported his daughters in all of their endeavors.

Michael’s biggest dream in life was to be a farmer. He and his young family moved back to Cedar Lane in the early 90’s. He built a family home for Linda, Lauren and Lyndsay, fueled by Quaker Raisin, Date and Walnut Instant Oatmeal. He built his family a home as a first step to his dream of a family farm. That dream would lead to dozens of cattle, a pet calf nicknamed “Annie”, two miniature horses (Jackson & Thunder), three Percheron horses (Jerry, Levi and Alyssa) and two Quarter horses (Goldy and Sadie). He regularly donned his cowboy hat and muck boots. You often found him driving his tractor, caring for his cattle, making his hay, or using other equipment around the farm. He found joy in campfires (big and small), loud music (Phish, Widespread Panic, Patti Labelle, The Doobie Brothers were some of his faves), good food, stiff drinks, colorful sunsets, and solitude with his own thoughts.

He would also take his four grandchildren and two “grandchildren” by marriage on tractor rides and tell them tales of dodging tigers and bears as they drove through the woods. They adored their time with him on “Tigger” rides, feeding the cows, and throwing rocks in the pond. In the winter, they’d get excited to see his big red truck when he arrived to plow.

A lifelong lover of animals and lost souls, Michael attracted stray dogs, cats, and humans. His charismatic nature was a magnet for anyone looking to be seen and loved. A white stray dog began showing up at the house construction site in the 90’s, and after being hit by a car, made its way back to Michael and his family. That dog, which the family named Boomer (short for boomerang), guarded the family for 13+ years until the twins went to college. Many other family dogs followed including Misty, Ginger, Jazz (a surprise birthday gift with a wild origin story; just ask Linda), and Zoie. Over many years, he cared for countless stray cats at the garage in Kingston and brought some to be barn cats in Greenville.

Michael will always be remembered for his unstoppable work ethic. Living up to his last name, he was always working on something and could accomplish in a single weekend what most people could only hope to finish in a month. He always had some new vision that could materialize at a moment’s notice. Memorably, his daughters walked into their bedroom one day to find him with a sledgehammer halfway through the sheetrock next to their beds. Without preamble, warning or explanation, he created a sweet nook of a playroom above the family’s two-car garage; a cherished spot for late night teenage sleepovers. He could jimmy-rig anything from refurbishing heavy duty trucks to building a wrap-around porch and sunroom. He could be a man of few words at times, but his vision and moments like these were perfect examples of him teaching his daughters that anything worth doing is worth doing well. Michael was also a man of grand surprises, for instance taking his family to Broadway musicals in NYC or trips to Disney World and the Grand Ole Opry hotel in Nashville.  

Michael will also be remembered by his family, friends, customers, and all those who knew him for his magnetic charisma and intensity. He was a force in this life. He will live in his family’s memories as a singular, focused, strong-willed, and endearing man. He leaves a legacy of hard work, tight family bonds, and endless big dreams. We will love and miss him always.

His is survived by his parents Eleanor (Morrison) and Arthur Werking, his daughters Lauren Werking (Bobby D’Agostino), their sons Camden & Rowan, and Lyndsay Werking-Yip (Peter Yip), and their children Grace, Pippa & Darren (DJ), and partner in all things, Linda Werking. He is predeceased by two grandchildren Maysie and Didgeridoo.

He leaves behind Charlet, and their dog Sky. He loved them both deeply. They made a home and farmed together as well as enjoyed concerts, dinners out, and had many dreams they didn’t have enough time to pursue.

Other surviving family include sister Julie (Johnny) Hilland, nephew Spencer (Stephanie) Hilland and their kids Hudson and Callie; sister Jennifer (Steve) Webb, niece Meredith Webb, and nephew Adam (Natalie) Webb and their kids Callan and Mary; his brother Jonathan Werking and former sister-in-law Rhoda Werking (nieces Kris, Natalie, Erika, Anna and nephew Josiah); and many other extended family members.

His family is especially grateful to Ron Dyess at Albany Medical Center who helped guide both Michael and his family through his final weeks and days, and whose friendship will never be forgotten.

Per Michael’s wishes there will be no formal wake or funeral. His family will plan a celebration of life to be announced at a future date. In lieu of flowers, we encourage you to make a donation in Michael’s memory to the Greenville High School’s FFA program. Donations are being accepted here: https://everloved.com/life-of/michael-werking/donate.

Condolences may be posted at ajcunninghamfh.com.