by Robert Woodie
Bob Woodie passed away while hiking in the High Sierra backcountry in October 2016. This is the second installment in a three part series chronicling a son’s search and subsequent struggle with loss following the unexpected passing of his father. The first segment, “Searching for Pops”, was featured on the cover of the December 8th edition of Beach Magazine. Contributions to the Bob Woodie Memorial Endowment can be made at http:/sierraclub.org/BobWoodieMemorial. For more information please visit: ExperLandTripper.com and Bob Woodie Memorial Endowment page on Facebook.
January 15, 2017
Dear Pops,
We had your memorial yesterday. I bet you would have been the only one surprised that over 200 people attended. You touched so many people. I know only a fraction of them could make it but your humility notwithstanding, I think you would have been visibly moved by the legacy of your life.
Tim and I kicked off the afternoon with photos of your resting place and our rockslide theory of what happened to you. All your friends, family, and clients needed to understand how you could disappear without a trace. We addressed the possibility that you might have staged your own death. As ridiculous as that sounded to us, we laid it to rest for the audience by demonstrating the love you had for your life and the people in it. We underscored for everyone that your passing in the high country was an accident, and indeed it was your passion for nature that sustained you. We showed them the photo from 30 years ago of Tim and Steve showing off the trout they caught at Barrett Lakes that was too big for the frying pan. It was the promise of catching such a fish that inspired your first visit to the Lakes four years ago, and led to your love for a place that you returned to each year. Hopefully you caught that fish’s offspring on your final trip.
Your brother Bill kicked off the eulogies with a tribute from your half-sister Jean who is in poor health and couldn’t attend. Bill explained the role model you always were for him and how supportive you were when he had his heart attack and surgery several years ago. He choked back tears several times.
Joe Buscemi talked about working as a box boy while you were in the meat department at Food Giant, and his excitement when you went from being co-workers to brothers-in-law. He recounted the story of driving the forklift through the restroom wall, and also how you could drink really bad, day-old coffee.
Steve spoke about what a great step-dad you were and how your demeanor made his parents’ divorce much easier for him.
Tim explained how your presence in his life was as much best friend as it was dad. He is having a very tough time with your passing. He told of your golf games every three weeks and how a week never went by that you didn’t speak. He read a letter that he wrote to you three decades ago. It was a touching account of how much he appreciated you as a father. In the middle of it, he broke down. Your youngest grandson Ryan, who just turned 10, got up and comforted him on stage in front of everyone. It might have been the most touching part of your memorial. Ryan is so brave, Pops. He spoke by himself and told the audience how much he loved you and how much he misses you.
Your granddaughters Jessica and Clara together recalled the many trips they took with you. Through sobs, Clara said that if it weren’t for your influence, she never would have majored in the sciences. Jessica expressed how your love has made her a stronger and more compassionate person. Their mother, Jennifer, told of how strong a father figure you were for her. She also received a good laugh at the answer to how many backpacking trips she went on. The answer of course was one, but she was quick to point out the other numerous camping and rafting trips we all enjoyed together.
Your nephew-in-law Steve spoke about family camping trips together and how, without you, his kids would have never experienced backpacking. Pops, you wouldn’t believe how beautifully grown up his girls are now!
The number of our friends that were brave enough to get up and speak would have impressed you. Danny Lemieux, Clay Hooper, Steve Lock, Chris and Kelly Summers, Lars Hazen, Dennis Collins, Jackie Brunke, and a few I am sure I missed.
Clay traveled over 500 miles to attend the memorial. He talked about how you were a father figure for him. And he fondly told of the trip when you shot through two of your fingers with your 22mm rifle. He and Tim were 13 then and absolutely giddy with the idea that they would need to drive home, which of course didn’t happen. He was so enthusiastic about your endowment Pops.
Chris talked about how patient you were with him on our backpacking trips when he constantly tangled his fishing line. His wife, Kelly, shared that Papa Woodie was revered in their family. Although their kids never had a chance to know you, you played a loving role through Chris’ stories and fond memories of your patience and encouragement.
Steve spoke of your days coaching Little League and his epic tantrum after you called his first-ever pulled hit foul. The disappointment in your eyes stays with him still. Teammate Lars described your amazement at the curveball you taught him to throw… much better even than your own demonstration.
Danny saw you as a second father and shared your confession to him of your anxiety over billing your first-ever customers as a handyman. With his flare, Dennis told about always doubling the amount he paid you, and how his wife and two young boys loved you.
Jackie Brunke said she felt so lucky that her daughter Ceci was able to join so many of our family outings. She felt blessed to have had your influence in her daughter’s life because she would never have been able to expose her to nature in the same way.
I told the story about the grizzly bear that charged us in Yellowstone, Pops, and as he closed in on us how you could not form words but merely make grunting noises. I also got a good chuckle at how it drove me crazy the way you would never close a car door hard enough to fully latch. Your wife, Joanne, who was too broken up to speak, really enjoyed that one. We went through a case of Kleenex remembering your life, Pops.
I must have chatted with 75 people at your event and a common theme was that people liked you almost immediately. You were quiet, unassuming, solid, and always there to help. So many of our friends and your handyman clients with young kids told me how you were a father/grandfather figure in their homes.
Pops, I truly believe that your life deserves more than a brief memorial after which everyone returns to their daily routines. Your example is worth going the extra mile for. It’s an honor to put in the energy and effort to create something that will continue your life’s passion. We all agreed there’s nothing more fitting than an endowment in your name supporting efforts to connect children with the outdoors.
Two representatives of the Sierra Club’s “Inspiring Connections Outdoors” attended your memorial. They gave emotional testimonies to the impact your endowment will have on kids by introducing them to nature. These underprivileged children typically don’t have grass at their schools. Some of them have never seen squirrels, let alone trees. In these communities, video games are a substitution for playing outdoors. Pops, you would be proud of your endowment’s efforts to break this cycle and introduce the lifelong rewards of nature. I can still hear you imploring us to turn off the TV and go outside and play.
We have a fundraising goal of $100,000 of which we have raised $15,000 so far with about a third coming from family. It’s a daunting task, but seeing how many lives you have impacted and how much good will come out of this endowment, I’m feeling less self-doubt now and more confidence we will get there. Fundraising is much harder than I expected, but it’s rewarding to see so many people financially support a cause that embodies the life you lived.
Know that I met Joe and he told me about your regular 6:30 am coffee date at McDonalds before you would both start out on your handyman calls. He said you talked a lot about passing away in the wilderness and you both agreed on many occasions that this was the way you wanted to go. He really needed to tell me this and repeated it several times. I’m not quite sure yet how to process the information, but I think it will ultimately confirm my belief that you’re happy in your resting spot. Indeed, many people have told me over these last few months that they couldn’t imagine a better place for you.
We are going to visit you this summer. I think we may have as many as 10 people joining us. We will make sure to leave no trace and gently release any of your fish we catch. We will visit and tend the rock memorial I put up at your last campsite a week after you were last there.
After the memorial program, we danced to “Rocky Mountain High” by John Denver. Your granddaughters, a handful of friends, and Tim and I all stayed late to give you a proper send off. We toasted often in your honor and firmly stamped your memory on the classic by your favorite artist. We played it several times, formed a circle while dancing arm and arm, and all screamed the lyrics. There is a verse that reminds me so much of you Pops. I hope these days you are still “finding grace with every step you take”.
Pops, I hope you’re at peace and passed quickly and painlessly. The fact that we didn’t find any of your belongings supports this reasoning. Now that the business of your memorial is complete, I have challenged myself to better incorporate your defining traits into who I am. I promise to be less judgmental, quicker to help, use more of the daylight, be a better companion, love more unconditionally, and enjoy more sunsets. I hope this effort will eventually fill the hole in my life you left. I’m sorry I am still having so much difficulty with your passing; I know you would want us to move forward sooner rather than later. I wish I had gotten a chance to tell you again that I love you and could tell you now how much I miss you. I am trying hard to get stronger, Pops, and I’m still planning to start my travels soon. I’m living in my car now but please don’t worry about me. It’s helping prepare me for my trip and bring perspective to the recent losses in my life. That said, I can’t say that I am proud of my current existence. But rest assured I will get to a better place someday. Rest in peace Pops. Know your family misses you terribly but is doing well and looks to honor you in everything we do.
[This letter was edited by Amy Cimetta]
