Wilbert Clarence Weaver

With the passing of Wilbert (“Bill”) Clarence Weaver on July 9, 2023, in Plano, Texas, we lost a man who was out of place in a world consumed by materialism and instant gratification. Bill was the embodiment of civility, integrity, family, intellectual rigor, and planning for the future. For nearly 90 years, he refused to compromise his beliefs despite the inevitable pressures. How did a man who was mortally insulted by the very idea of cheating at cards develop his values? Why did he prefer to listen to two actors sing in yesterday’s musicals than watch them kiss in today’s movies? To understand, we will have to travel back 88 years to a little town even Ohio residents have never heard of: Grand Rapids.

The beginning of Bill’s life

Bill was born on February 27, 1935, in Grand Rapids, Ohio’s Mayberry. He joined a small family that included his parents, Guy Edson Weaver, a laborer, and Ora Mae Fairbanks; his three brothers Wally, Jake, and Eddie; and his sister Ruth. Two of his other siblings tragically died before they were born. As many of us like to joke, in a town of only 800 people, the Weavers were related to at least 10% of them, and as Bill grew up, he was always surrounded by his cousins, aunts, and uncles.

We can imagine that Bill was like many children and loved to roughhouse with other kids. He did, in fact, confirm this a few years back before Alzheimer’s ravaged his memories, saying that he liked messing around with one boy in particular. “He was a lot bigger than me, though,” he recalled, “and kicked my butt more often than not.”

It will surprise no one that while Bill liked the company of other people, he was frequently off by himself. Introverted to the core, he explored the woods around Grand Rapids, went fishing and swam in the Maumee River, and studied birds, his lifelong passion. He was fascinated by them and quickly learned to identify robins, bluejays, and other species.

Bill, highly observant even at a young age, also watched the trains that passed through Grand Rapids. He frequently studied them, wanting to understand what they were carrying, where they were going, and how they were unloaded.

Bill was close with his siblings, especially Jake, who was born 12 years before him on the same day. Their parents instilled in them their commitment to personal responsibility. Decades later, Jake and his wife Wilma were visiting Bill and his family in Lake Jackson, Texas, and they made everyone laugh over the story of the broken plates.

“Jake, Eddie, and I were doing dishes after supper, and we decided to speed things up a bit,” Bill remembered. “Eddie stood at the table and tossed a plate to me, and I tossed it to Jake, who washed it. The system worked so well that we decided to do 3 plates at a time.”

Disaster was inevitable. When the plates shattered on the floor, the crash echoed throughout the house. Guy Edson and Ora Mae didn’t say a word. Their kids silently got their nickels and dimes, went to the store, and brought home new dishes. The family moved on like nothing had happened.

Bill loses members of his family and enters high school

Bill’s incredibly resilient spirit was rooted in his childhood. His brother Eddie died when he was young, and he lost his mother to heart disease when he was fourteen. He struggled with both losses, but he found refuge in school, where he thrived in his math and science classes. Their rules and predictability appealed to his logical mind.

In high school, Bill hit his stride as a leader, serving as manager of the basketball team, which won the state championship in 1951. As Class President, he worked hard to lead his classmates and make decisions that would improve the school for everyone.

Tragedy struck yet again a few weeks before his high school graduation in 1953, with Bill’s father passing away from heart disease, a genetic condition that Bill would inherit. Members of his extended family encircled him, buying his father’s house and moving in with Bill. One of his nieces, Sue, lived with him and recalls his introverted nature and desire for information.

“He was more like a brother to me than an uncle,” she says. “I just loved seeing him. Every time I did, he was reading something.”

Bill becomes the first person in his family to go to college

That love of knowledge propelled Bill to do something no one in his family had ever accomplished: go to college. Whether he was looking down his life’s road and envisioning what he wanted for himself, was simply ambitious, or all of the above, he decided to get a university degree. In 1953, he enrolled at Bowling Green State University, just 30 miles away from Grand Rapids, and majored in chemistry.

Bill came home frequently to visit his family, walking in the door with boxes of broken test tubes, Erlemeyer flasks, beakers, thermometers, and pipettes. With his frugal nature and quest for scientific knowledge, he couldn’t bear to throw away the discarded equipment from his college laboratories, and he stored it all in the family’s garage.

He may have been developing into a serious adult, but his niece Sue remembers that he never lost his silly side. Even as a college student, Bill laughed until he cried when watching Tom and Jerry, Bugs Bunny, and the Road Runner, and he loved Mad Magazine.

Bill enters the Army

Bill graduated from Bowling Green State University in 1957 with a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry. Despite the 1953 Korean War armistice, he was drafted into the Army. He was stationed mostly in Germany, where he was trained as a medic because of his background in chemistry. A little-known fact is that he was also a sniper. While he didn’t talk about this much, he was probably selected because of his calm temperament, excellent judgment, and steadiness under pressure.

In the Army, Bill made one of the greatest friends of his life: Bill Dewey. He fondly remembered traveling with him throughout Europe, visiting Rome, Venice, Paris, Zurich, Munich, Berlin, and other cities. The continent’s historical sites impressed him, as he had a passion for history and was keenly interested in both World Wars. Throughout his time in the Army, he sent little presents home to his Grand Rapids family, whose members were never far from his heart.

Bill meets the woman he will be married to for 55 years

After being discharged from the Army in 1959, Bill entered the workforce and eventually moved to Detroit, Michigan, a decision that set him on the path to meeting the love of his life: Rochelle Lorraine Bellegarde. While the exact details of their meeting have been lost to the passage of time, we do know that they were neighbors in Detroit and met at a party. Despite being polar opposites (she was very outgoing while Bill was far less so), they were instantly attracted to each other. Rochelle, however, hesitated to get too serious about him.

“He wasn’t Catholic,” she remembered. “I came from a very Catholic family, so this was a big deal for me. I sat down with him one night and said that we had to stop seeing each other. He looked at me and said, ‘I can go to a Catholic church.’ I thought, ‘Oh, okay!’”

In 1962, Bill married Rochelle in a Catholic ceremony attended by both families. In their wedding photos, you can see how happy they both were, especially Bill, whose reserved nature usually prevented him from smiling for the camera. After honeymooning at Wabun, Michigan, on Lake Huron, they moved to Louisville, Kentucky, where Bill worked for Devoe Paints.

Bill sets a new standard for how husbands treat their wives

Rochelle quickly realized that her new husband wasn’t quite what she had expected. She told her daughter many years later that because of the dynamic she had witnessed between her parents, she had thought she would be expected to serve her own husband.

“Our first night in our home, I cooked dinner and brought it to him just like I had seen my own mom do,” Rochelle said. “Your dad looked at me and asked, ‘What are you doing? You don’t have to do that!’”

She learned that her husband was very different from most men. While they divvied up household chores to make life run smoothly, he had no problem washing dishes, doing the laundry, ironing, or doing any of the other work normally allocated to women.

“He didn’t even have to be asked,” she marveled. “He was completely different from my friends’ husbands, and I was really impressed by him. My dad told me on my wedding day that I had found one of the really good ones.”

Bill takes a job with Dow Chemical and wants to start a family

In 1964, Bill got a job with Dow Chemical in Midland, Michigan, where they moved into a small house on Jefferson Street. While the newlyweds were very happy together and Bill enjoyed his work in the Chemicals Technical Service & Development division, one thing was missing: children. They both greatly wanted a family, and they were devastated when a tumor on Rochelle’s uterus meant that she could never have kids.

Bill was the ultimate lover of babies and children. Nothing made him smile bigger than playing with them. Rochelle had envisioned having at least eight children. Now, with the path to biological children closed to them, they turned to adoption.

“We went to Catholic Family Services and told them we wanted to adopt a baby,” he explained many years later. “It wasn’t easy. There were a lot of interviews to do, and they came to inspect our home. We really wanted a family, though, so we went through the whole process.”

Bill and Rochelle adopt their three children

In 1966, their perseverance and hopes were rewarded when they were able to adopt a male baby who was just hours old. They immediately made him their own son, bringing him home to Jefferson Street and naming him Guy Mitchell Weaver. A few years later, in 1968, they adopted Timothy John Weaver, their second son and also a newborn in need of a family.

Later in 1968, the Weaver family moved to their home on Westbriar Terrace in Midland, where they settled into their life together. Both Bill and Rochelle were delighted to be parents, and Bill in particular relished the noise and fun of two little boys running around the house and yard. His son Tim remembers that Bill rented a ¼-acre plot from Dow and grew tomatoes, beans, corn, and radishes. His kids, of course, were brought along to help weed the vegetable garden and gather the bounty.

On the weekends, Bill could often be found in his basement workshop, building a laundry chute for his wife or tinkering with his saws and hammers. He also enrolled at Central Michigan University in Mt. Pleasant, taking evening classes and working towards his Masters in Finance, which he earned in 1970. Life was established and on track.

Then one day in 1973, the phone rang. It was a social worker from Catholic Family Services, who wanted to know if Bill and Rochelle could adopt an eight-month-old girl. While the laws said that only two children could be adopted, the social worker was concerned that because the baby was getting older, she was at risk of disappearing into Michigan’s foster care system. Catholic Family Services was willing to bend the rules if Bill and Rochelle were willing to adopt her.

Bill didn’t hesitate. He immediately answered, “Of course!” In August 1973, their new daughter joined them, and they named her Jeannine Rochelle Weaver.

Bill devotes himself to his wife and family

Throughout the 1970s, Bill embraced his role as a father and husband. He greatly enjoyed canoeing with his family on the Chippewa River, climbing Sleeping Bear Dunes with his kids, and sailing each summer on Long Lake. He also liked the simple things, like throwing a ball with his sons, going to Cub Scouts with them, or taking his little daughter to the library and fostering her love of books. On camping trips, he was never without his binoculars and was often found standing in the river, observing birds perched in Michigan’s pine, maple, and oak trees. He continued to work at Dow Chemical, including in its Inorganic Chemicals TS&D, Halogens Research Lab, Hydrocarbons & Energy Lab, and Organic Chemicals TS&D.

Bill and his family begin their lives in Lake Jackson, Texas

In 1979, Bill was transferred to Dow Chemical’s plant in Freeport, Texas, and he moved his family to Lake Jackson. For the next three years, he worked in Oyster Creek Division Research. In 1982, he became a research associate in the Oxides & Intermediates TS&D Lab, and in 1985, he began his work as a project manager in the Chemicals & Metals Department. At Dow, he quickly developed a reputation as the man to go to when you needed advice, and younger employees frequently consulted with him on how to solve a problem.

Over the years, while Bill was sometimes away on business trips across the United States and in Europe, he never neglected his family. When he wasn’t traveling, he stuck to a predictable routine. He had breakfast with his family each day and laughed over The Far Side, Calvin & Hobbes, the Peanuts, and other cartoons. He carpooled to Dow with his coworker and neighbor Billy Qwok. At the end of each day, he always walked in the back door at 5:30, where he was enthusiastically greeted by Jingles, the family’s first dog, and later Truffles. He said hello to everyone, sat down with a drink, watched the evening news or did a crossword, and caught up with his family.

On the weekends, Bill worked around the house. Again, while everyone had their own chores, he often crossed over to do the laundry or ironing. He mowed the yard on Saturday mornings and worked in the backyard, weeding and cultivating his garden. Every so often, he would pause to watch birds frolic in the bird bath or eat from the feeder, enchanted as always. He did puzzles with his daughter, played catch with his sons, and took his family and their dog to nearby Surfside Beach to walk on the jetties and catch crabs. He became excellent at cooking on his grill and smoker, and he always listened to classical music.

While Bill was not into modern popular culture, he still had his Hollywood favorites, including The Pink Panther; Murder By Death; Young Frankenstein; Blazing Saddles; Around the World in 80 Days; It’s a Mad, Mad World; and Murder on the Orient Express. He loved Benny Hill, and he cracked up at Sam and Diane on “Cheers.” He was a true mystery lover and never missed an episode of “Murder She Wrote” or “Masterpiece Theater.” He also never failed to sit down with his daughter every holiday season to watch the Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Peanuts specials; A Christmas Story; and the Grinch.

Bill and Rochelle had a strong circle of friends in Lake Jackson, with a standing tennis game on Friday nights. Bridge parties were the norm, as were Sunday golf games. They were particularly close with Lee and Judy Wretlind, with whom they traveled to Brazil. Both families hung out together at Canyon Lake and tubed down the Guadalupe River. The Weavers also took driving trips to see extended family in California, Ohio, Michigan, and Alabama.

Bill stays true to his values as he gets older

As his children graduated from high school and college, moving out into the world, Bill remained committed to them and to his wife. When Tim graduated from the Marine Corps boot camp in California, Bill attended the ceremony. He was also present when Guy and Jeannine graduated from college, and when Guy got married, Bill was his best man.

Bill and Rochelle’s marriage remained strong, which Jeannine believes is because they liked each other so much.

“They loved each other, of course,” she says. “However, more than that, they actually liked each other. They liked to spend time together. They each did their own thing and didn’t have to be together all the time, but at the end of the day, they enjoyed each other’s company. They never seemed to get sick of each other. That’s what made their marriage work.”

Bill continued to pursue intellectual improvement. He loved a good dinner table debate, and he deepened his knowledge of America’s Civil War. He was a fanatical viewer of the TV game show Jeopardy, which Jeannine believes he could have won. Alas, he was too nervous and unsure of his grasp of American popular culture to ever try out.

At age 55, after a heart attack, bypass surgery, and multiple stints, Bill retired from Dow Chemical, having given the company over 27 years of his life. If he struggled with this new life stage, he didn’t complain much, if at all. Instead, he explored its possibilities, which included deeper relationships with his four grandchildren, driving trips around the United States and Canada, and cruises in Europe and Alaska.

Bill and Rochelle move to Sun City, Georgetown

In 1992, Bill and Rochelle sold the Lake Jackson house and moved to Sun City, a retirement community in Georgetown (near Austin). The pace of life there, which largely revolved around playing golf, suited them, and they quickly made friends. Rochelle volunteered with Habitat for Humanity and played bridge with a ladies’ group. Bill joined the Computer Club and Woodworking Club, rode his bike, and went to the gym. Both played golf for a number of years as well as couples’ bridge. Seeing their children and grandchildren was always at the top of their list.

Bill, despite being so well-traveled and educated, never lost his small-town mentality. His daughter Jeannine frequently got exasperated with him when she visited. Every time they went shopping together at HEB, he would leave the car keys in the ignition and not lock the doors. He was totally unconcerned about the car being stolen.

“This is Georgetown. No one ever takes anything here,” he would shrug before getting out and walking into the store.

Jeannine never won that argument, and the car was never stolen.

Bill and Rochelle’s declining health

Both Bill and Rochelle developed spinal stenosis as they grew older, and when Rochelle was diagnosed with dementia, Bill became her main caregiver. Despite his advancing age, he remained devoted to her until she died at the age of 85 from Hodgkin’s lymphoma and other medical issues. They were married for over 56 years.

While his children were concerned about the impact of her death, Bill remained as resilient as he was when he lost family members as a teenager. He grieved, but he simply did not believe in giving up. As Guy, Tim, and Jeannine say, he bounced. Instead of retreating inward, he reached out to people, developing new relationships and embracing old friendships. He decided that his own life would continue to the fullest.

Bill breaks his hip for the first time and develops Alzheimer’s

One week before COVID hit, Bill’s children moved him to HarborChase, an assisted living center in Plano, Texas. He had broken his hip, gone through rehab, and been diagnosed with late-onset Alzheimer’s, and in Plano, he could be much closer to his daughter, son, and daughter-in-law.

The pandemic, of course, meant that visitations were strictly regulated. Guy and Jeannine often stood on the ground floor, talking to Bill as he stood on his second-floor balcony. He seemed greatly encouraged by these visits, but nothing compared to the day he met his great-grandson, Greyson.

“Because of the virus, we had to meet through a glass window,” Guy remembers. “We couldn’t have any physical contact at all. Dad was sitting in a chair on the other side of the window, and Greyson walked up, stretched out his hand, and tried to touch Dad’s hand. We got a picture of them touching hands through the window, one memory we will always cherish.”

Bill never knew that he had Alzheimer’s, as his children saw no point in telling him. Over the few years he lived at HarborChase, he worked hard to form relationships with both the staff and residents, who all knew him by name. The facility’s manager made him an Ambassador, and he was tapped to welcome new residents and show them around a little. He was considered by everyone to be an extremely nice man, one who was fastidiously neat, liked to dress well, and was unfailingly polite. Incidentally, Bill never did wear jeans - he couldn’t stand how stiff and scratchy they were.

Guy and Jeannine frequently visited, and Tim flew in from Maine as often as he could. Jeannine will always remember having breakfast with him every Saturday and then, when he became too tired to get up that early, lunches on Saturdays and Sundays. Each time she walked into his apartment, Bill was doing a word search. He remained interested in any game that tested his mind.

In November 2022, Bill’s Alzheimer’s had progressed to the point where he needed full-time care, and he was moved downstairs to the Cove, HarborChase’s memory-care facility. While he was confined to a wheelchair by that point, he still used his legs to propel himself up and down the halls, and he was constantly observing everyone, picking up things dropped on the floor, and saying “hello” and “thank you” to the staff and other residents.

His daughter Jeannine continued to take him out to the regular dining room for lunch on the weekends, and the waiters and other diners were always happy to see him. Jeannine remembers that even with Alzheimer’s and the inevitable changes in his mind, the essence of Bill never changed.

“He never stopped watching people, and he remained fascinated by birds,” she says. “He would look out the window and point out birds that were perched on top of telephone poles or traffic lights. He just truly had a passion for them that never faded.”

Bill passes away, leaving a legacy and memories that will never fade

On June 26, 2023, Bill fell and broke his other hip, setting off a string of events that would lead to him passing away from pneumonia only two weeks later. He left behind his three children, four grandchildren, one great-grandson, another great-grandson who will be born in October, and more family members who will miss him.

Guy says, “He was one of the smartest men I ever knew. I am the husband I am today because of his example.”

Tim says, “He was always so careful about what he said.”

Jeannine will never forget watching him save a bird that had become trapped in fishing line and was going to strangle itself or break a wing. “I was only four years old, but the memory of him calming the bird, untangling it, and helping it to fly away has never left me.”

The eternal mystery of what happens to all of us when we pass away is not solved with Bill’s death. We can all be sure of one thing, though: wherever he is, he is with his wife and family, he has his binoculars, and he is watching his beloved birds.

In lieu of flowers, Bill's family asks that you please consider making a donation to the National Audubon Society or Alzheimer's Association in his memory. Thank you.