George Franklin Mohr

It is with hearts both broken and grateful that we announce the passing of George “Porgie” Franklin Mohr, who left this world peacefully at home on Friday, February 27, 2026, just two days shy of his 83rd birthday.

Born on March 1, 1943, in Jackson to Frank and Ellen Mohr, George lived a life defined by grit, loyalty, humor, and a love that ran deep and steady. To know him was to know a man who showed up, for his family, for his friends, and for the dairy farmers he served faithfully for more than fifty years.

His devotion to his wife, Patsy, was the kind you don’t read about, it was lived out daily. Even if it was occasionally accompanied by his familiar mutter, “Damit woman! I’ll get to it when I get to it!” there was never a question of where his heart belonged. She was his first priority in every season of life. When her care required it, he left the only hometown he had ever known to move east, because loving her well mattered more than comfort or familiarity. That was George, stubborn in tone, steadfast in action.

George was proud to be a milk hauler. He gave more than five decades to hauling milk to the dairy in Detroit, working seven days a week, often twelve or more hours a day. He didn’t just drive big trucks he built a life around them. The farm, the open road, the hum of a diesel engine, that was where he felt most at home. And rarely far from his side was his beloved black dog, Molly, riding shotgun whenever she could.

Retirement, in true George fashion, looked exactly how he said it would: “absolutely nothing.” And he meant it.

His daughter, Shari, was without question, the apple of his eye. From the moment she was born, she held a piece of his heart that she would carry with her always. No matter how busy life became, he never stopped lighting up at the sound of her voice. He looked forward to her phone calls and their FaceTime dates with the same excitement he once felt waiting to see her after a long day of work,smiling before he even answered, ready to listen to every detail of her day. No matter what she needed, he was there. Their conversations were never rushed; they were small, sacred moments that meant the world to him. She was his pride, his joy, and one of the greatest blessings of his life.

He spoke of his pride of his son, Kevin. He was a cherished part of his life. He was proud of his service to our country and hung his army picture proudly on the wall within his home. Beyond that, some of his happiest moments were spent bonding over their shared love of trucking and big rigs. Whether they were swapping stories, admiring a powerful engine, or simply talking shop, those conversations were more than hobbies, they were connection. The joy he found in sharing that passion with his son was immeasurable, and it remained one of the great blessings of his life.

But nothing brought him to life the way his grandchildren and great-grandchildren did. From the moment they were born, they were his pride and joy, bouncing on his knee, chasing him through the barn, swinging on the swing set he built with his own hands, climbing into the cab of the big rig with wide eyes and bigger smiles, or simply sharing fried bologne sandwiches at the kitchen table. His laughter with them was easy and full, the kind that echoes long after the moment passes.

George measured wealth not in dollars, but in memories. He traveled to Iowa and Maryland to see his stepdaughters, Jennifer and Sara and their families, never missing an opportunity to gather his people close. His love of the open road and admiring the scenery along the drive filled his heart. His love of food was always fulfilled by his stepson, Eric's, talents within the kitchen. George always looked forward to the amazing meals he would cook and share. He opened his home without hesitation. He healed hearts he didn’t break. He loved the family he married into as fiercely as the one he was born into. He matched in-law shenanigans step for step, delivered one-liners that left everyone shaking their heads, and never turned down something sweet to eat.

He leaves behind his devoted wife, Patsy; his siblings Ralph (Marilyn) Mohr and Roberta Page; his children Kevin Mohr, Shari (Bill) Braun, Eric (Julie) Walz, Jennifer (Matt) Shoenhair, and Sara (Matt) Alexander; his cherished grandchildren Sheldon (Makayla) Miller, Jessica Short, Joshua (Marissa) Mohr, Angela (Marshawn) Goodloe, Hannah (Josiah) Smith, Jacob Mohr, Tyler Alexander, Ella Partlow, and Reannah Walz; and his treasured great-grandchildren Brody, Alivia, Marquis, Logan, London, Lennon, Mackenzie, Jamarcus, Carter, Wyatt, Willow, Waylon, , Tessa, and Jasper, along with many nieces and nephews who will carry his love and stories forward.

He was preceded in death by his parents, Frank and Ellen Mohr; his sisters Karen Griswold and Kathy Curtis; his sons Danny and Brian Mohr; and his beloved grandson, Aiden Alexander.

Though the ache of his absence is profound, so too is our gratitude. We are thankful for the steady love he gave, the laughter he sparked, and the example he set of what it means to work hard and love harder.

We have no doubt that George is now stirring up a little harmless ruckus in Heaven, climbing back behind the wheel of a big rig and driving those golden roads, and if you asked him how he’s doing, he’d tell you he’s “as fine as a frog’s hair.”

The family will hold a private viewing. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to The Aiden Matthew Ripple Effect Foundation in honor of his grandson, Aiden Matthew Alexander, supporting the vital work of mental health awareness and suicide prevention.

His road here was long and well-traveled. His love will travel even farther.

Arrangements were made by J.L Davis Funeral Home, Smithsburg, MD and condolences may be offered at www.jldavisfh.com.