In Memoriam

Bill was born alongside Sorry, Monopoly, The Wizard of Oz, Gone with the Wind, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and The Golden Gate Bridge.

As young boys, Bill and his brother, John, used their keen minds and capable hands to build Racer airplanes of wood and glue.

Together the boys grew up in the Catholic church enjoying church socials, bingo, picnics, miniature golf, the movies, coca-cola, dancing, baseball, football, and the card game, bridge.

From a very young age Bill took to travel. Unlike many children of the day, Bill took onboard all of travel’s many life lessons. He took them to heart, always learning, growing, discovering, seeking.

In time, Bill would trade his Racer airplanes for the U.S. Air Force, where he served for eight years, earning the rank of Captain. After separating from the service he found his way to SAIC where worked happily for two decades until retirement.

He survived 'the war years' as a pre-teen of the 1940s, when the world was swallowed whole by World War II -- those towering days of sorrow, patriotism and hope, when World War I remained entirely visible in the rearview. He survived the threadbare days of, “Use it up, wear it out, make do, or do without.”

And thus Bill inculcated that family relies on thrift, conservation, unity, and faith.

As a teen during the 1950s, Bill stood tall when the U.S. entered the so-called Golden Age of Capitalism -- a period of unprecedented economic growth that benefited the capitalists and the workers. A sense of uniformity pervaded American society. Conformity was common. In that age, young and old alike followed group norms rather than strike out on their own.

Then came the 1960s at which time Bill met and became smitten with a lovely young Minnesotan he’d worked alongside as a soda jerk. She was a darling effervescent blonde named Judi, whom Bill soon came to love and adore.

Judi became Bill's wife, best friend, and life partner for more than 60 years. Together they raised three exceptional children.

I am proud to have married Bill's firstborn son, to whom I've been married for 26 years and counting. (Best thing ever to happen to me.)

Bill was a remarkable human being and so very much more than the man we needed. He was everything to each of us: The grandson. The son. The brother. The father. The grandfather. The husband and friend. Truly, the best friend a person could have.

We did our best to deserve him.

Bill epitomized perseverance. And he was the definition of frugal.

In time, he learned patience too.

He was our patriarch. Our caregiver. Our neighbor. A man of intelligence, and intellect, a person of principals and by all accounts, a giant in terms of gratitude, especially for family and friends.

Bill loved to dance, to make and drink Gimlets, collect stamps, read books and books and more books, explore and drink wine, play bridge, eat ice cream, watch ball games, laugh, weave a wonderful story, do magic tricks, enjoy spending time with family and friends, and how he loved to travel the world.

With the exception of Antarctica, Bill and Judi visited every continent on earth, in depth. No voice was unworthy of their time and attention. Every culture was one they sought to better understand, appreciate, witness, and salute.

After retirement, Bill gave freely of his insights, his experience, his expertise, and his wisdom. And he gave his unending love.

Above all else, Bill was a family man.

It was the honor of my life to be considered his daughter.

💔❤️💔

-Christy

(Unspoken) is a fictionalized eulogy written in Dad's honor. Details have been modestly modified to make it possible to read without balling our eyes out.

RIP.