A touching tribute to Bill

I'll have more to say soon about the past few days, but I can't neglect to thank our amazing friends and family -- those who came to the funeral services and those who kept us in their thoughts while we were here. I'm overwhelmed and speechless about the outpouring of kindness and sympathy.

More details and thoughts later, but for now, here's what Scott had to say about Bill at the funeral service. It was an amazing tribute to my father.

Captain Bill

All of us are here because we were touched by the life of Bill Beecheler.

Many of us here were also touched inappropriately by Bill Beecheler.

But that’s Bill. He loved life and he lived it the way he wanted to, whether you liked it or not. Fortunately for all of us, he gave us far more than we were ever able to give him.

Bill was self reliant. He was a prankster. He was resourceful, strong willed and focused. He was a dad, son, brother, uncle, grandpa, brother-in-law, husband, father-in-law and Power Man. He was giving, fun-loving and dedicated to his family, work and friends.

Bill loved boating, especially his various Beech Buoy power boats that made multiple trips to Kelley‘s Island, Put-in-Bay and numerous other destinations both far and near. And god forbid if even a scrap of dirt got on the boat, or you wore the wrong shoes. Bill was there with a paper towel to pick up every scrap and a forceful reminder about the proper soles for the Tiara.

Bill loved cars, from all the ones he owned to the ones he bought and sold for friends and family. Sometimes there was no place Bill was happier than in the garage taking a car apart and putting it back together the way it should have been assembled in the first place. I think we’ve all had to deal with trying to figure out car alarms installed by Bill that even the auto dealers can’t bypass.

Bill loved animals, like his cat Elsa and dog Cher. He gave generously to the Cleveland zoo and animal rescue projects.

Bill loved giving, not just to numerous charities but to his family and friends as well. He once anonymously paid a co-worker‘s health insurance for a year. He loaned money so a relative could go to college. He also loaned money to both Lisa and Heather so they could make down payments on their houses.

Bill loved work, from his 33 years at the various incarnations of Lorain Products, to helping out on the Born family farm, to innumerable projects at the homes of friends and family members, and even those who barely knew him but were connected in some way with those he loved. His co-workers at Lorain Products could always count on him to deliver chocolates on Valentine’s Day and Sweetest Day, even sometimes at their homes after they had left the company.

If there was a light switch that didn’t work, or a door that squeaked, or a tractor that wouldn’t start, Bill would fix it. And even if there were things you didn’t want fixed, if Bill thought something was wrong, the tool box was coming out and your day was booked.

He had all the skills that are perfect for passing down to a son. But maybe someone knew that would be too big of a burden for any male offspring to bear, so Bill was blessed with two daughters and three granddaughters.

Bill loved his family. And unlike many men of his generation, he wasn’t afraid to show it. Bill was one of the most emotional, gregarious and loving, men I knew. He knew how to hug.

Bill was born in 1944 in Lorain, the son of Carl and Ella Beecheler. He grew up spending time with his dad and step brother Robert, learning from them how to take things apart and put them back together in proper working order. He learned how to boat from his dad, taking numerous fishing trips on Lake Erie in their Lyman.

Bill met Sue shortly after graduation from Admiral King High School in 1962. In many ways, they couldn’t have been more different. Bill was from a small city family, had no college degree, and was working his way up the ladder with a blue collar job at Lorain Products. Sue was from a large farm family, a graduate of Miami University and a teacher.

Luckily for me and Chuck, Bill and Sue fell and love and soon had two girls: Lisa in 1971 and Heather in 1975. No offense to all the wonderful women gathered here today, but I do not believe there are any two more beautiful women in this world than Lisa and Heather.

Bill and Sue soon built their home on land owned by Sue’s family, on what became Bill’s pride and joy at 50902 Becker Road. Bill and his brothers-in-law, and Sue, spent countless hours, days and weeks clearing the woods to build the house. Bill was there every step of the way, either doing the work himself or berating those hired to do what little he couldn’t, pointing out their transgressions to the eight of an inch.

By 1975 the work was largely done and the Beecheler family was home: Bill and Sue and little Lisa and Heather.

Bill loved his family, to be sure, but he had too much energy just for them. He had to share it with the community. He worked all day at Lorain Products, building a career that would eventually take him all the way to manager of quality control before retirement in 2000. He spent his nights with a side job fixing corn dryers on farms as far as three hours away, tucking away every spare nickel and dime to invest in bigger and better boats for his family. He joined the Firelands School Board, eventually serving as president. Bill spent as much, or more, time getting to know the janitors and bus drivers as he did the teachers and administrators. To him, titles and college degrees meant little or nothing. It was the person’s character, and their knowledge of a car’s working parts, that mattered most.

While work and public service were a large part of his life, Bill never wavered from his dedication to his family. He took them skiing, teaching Lisa and Heather how to work the downhill. They went camping, sleeping in the back of a pickup truck in what at the time may have been uncomfortable but in later years would provide deep and meaningful memories. He continued to work on the house, building a barn with such focus that even when he accidentally hit himself in the head with a hammer, falling off the roof in the process, he kept on hammering until the job was done. Then he went to the hospital for stitches.

Given how beautiful his two daughters grew up to be, Bill was put in a difficult position when it came time for them to start dating. But he came up with an approach on how to handle the various boys who started coming around the house with more frequency. Instead of getting to know them or trying to divine their true intentions, Bill simply ignored them. If they talked to him, he walked away. If they asked what he was doing, he would grunt. Mostly he just stayed in the garage. He told me later he wanted them to be afraid of him, to know he was there, but to realize that he had no time for them, in the hopes that eventually they would just go away.

That approach didn’t work for me and Chuck. We stuck around.

The first time I met Bill, when Lisa and I were dating in college in 1993, he drove down to Miami in a 1980 blue Ford Mustang with his wonderful mother Ella Banas in tow. Bill loved his mother. He cared for her into her old age, frequently bringing her to his house for dinner, including her in family gatherings, and even taking her and her friends out on the boat. He was a dedicated son and she loved him wholeheartedly in return.

The first time Chuck met Bill he was put to work immediately, waxing the entire bottom of the boat, a hard and thankless job. Just consider it son-in-law hazing. Chuck must have passed the test.

Bill insisted on being the MC at Lisa and my wedding reception and, as the videotape proves, there was no better dancer once the music started. He danced like he lived: with abandon.

He even managed to fix a flat tire for one of the wedding guests the next morning. Just last week, 15 years after the fact, that friend sent me an email saying how he still remembers how Bill made sure the tire was fixed and the car was safe before it hit the road for the drive back to Illinois.

Bill was always there.

He was there for Sue when she needed him most, never wallowing in misery, but still finding time to travel, boat and keep on living. Ten days after she died Bill’s first grandchild, my daughter Anna, was born. Bill was mourning the loss of his wife, but guess who was the first visitor to our Lincoln, Nebraska, hospital room? If you guessed Bill, then you’re at the right funeral.

He stayed with us for a couple weeks, running wires and fixing things. That’s one of the best ways he showed his love. He also bought us a new car, which was another way he showed his love. I have owned four cars. One of them I bought with Bill, one of them Bill bought for me, and the other two I bought from him at a deep family discount. Even when he was sick this summer, living with Lisa and me in Wisconsin, he was researching cars for our family to buy, eliminating any that had a poor safety record no matter how popular.

Three years after Anna was born, Bill returned to be there for Mary Jane’s birth. The night Lisa went into labor, I calmly awoke Bill to let him know I was taking Lisa to the hospital. He jumped out of bed, threw the sheets off, and sprang to attention, wearing nothing but his tighty whities. He was prepared, even though I wasn’t ready for that image.

Just two years ago Bill was blessed by the birth of his third granddaughter, Chuck and Heather’s daughter Charlotte. He was also there shortly after she was born in Annapolis, Maryland. He worked on innumerable projects for Chuck and Heather as well, most recently putting in a brand new kitchen in their house. It was one of Bill’s last, and most beautiful, pieces of work.

I want to say a few words about Linda, but anything I say will not do justice to what she meant to Bill and our family.

After Sue died, all of us were certain that there was no other sane woman on the planet who would fall in love with Bill. But then came Linda.

She and Bill knew each other through her husband Phil. Linda and Bill reconnected after Phil and Sue died and soon became inseparable. They shared a love of boating and adventure. They filled each day to the max, taking whatever life could throw at them and embracing it, running toward the next adventure and not just sitting back and letting things come to them. Bill found a new lease on life with Linda and welcomed her wonderful son Lee into his life. He showed his love by making Lee help him chop wood.

Bill and Linda traveled the world, they explored the Great Lakes, they watched Bones and House. They lived and they were happy.

This May Bill and Linda moved in with Lisa and me for three months. The day after he moved in, I ran my first marathon, dedicating it to Bill and wearing his name on my shirt. He came out for the race, catching me at various spots, and even getting in on the action, running alongside me for a few hundred feet. We embraced, he was smiling ear to ear, and when his feet failed him, he walked back with the spectators, sad that he couldn’t keep up for longer.

The fact that he was there and ran with me is one of the greatest memories of my life.

I, along with all of you, cannot imagine what life would have been like without Bill Beecheler in it. And it’s hard to think of how it will be without him.

He showed that life was meant to be lived. And not just on vacation days or weekends. But all the time. Every minute. Because friends, you never know when your time is up.

The last time I saw Bill 11 days ago I knew he didn’t have long to live, but I was certain I would see him again. His last words to me weren’t, “Pray for me,” or “You’ll probably never see me again,” or anything negative. He simply said, “You’re great.”

No, Bill, you’re great. And for those of us left behind, we can take solace in knowing that all the kitchen remodels, all the rewiring projects and all the other general maintenance that has been neglected for centuries in heaven will now finally get done.