Wayne Thomas Cook

Wayne Thomas Cook, 73, passed away Monday, February 17, 2020. Visitation: 6 - 8 p.m. Friday, February 21, 2020 at White's Funeral Home, 130 Houston Avenue, Weatherford, Texas 76086. Obituary for Wayne Thomas Cook This obituary will, necessarily, not be an ordinary obituary. Wayne Thomas Cook was an extraordinary man. Get ready for a story (or a few). There will be some rough stories, sad stories, happy stories, just as it is in life. I’ve been told I can write as much or as little as I’d like. I chose the former…not the traditional obituary. If you have the time, it’s quite a read, as his was quite a life. This is told from the memory of his son, Brian Cook. Please pardon any typos or grammatical errors and if I missed anyone or didn’t include something, I apologize...unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to plan. I may refer to Wayne as dad or Wayne. Some of this is a bit of a ‘roast’, as I liked to do with my dad. He played along with whatever ‘roast’ or caricature of him that you could come up with. Sometimes he’d slip into a godfather Italian voice or a stereotypical German voice. I always got a kick out of that. I think some of the stories are funniest when spoken, but I’m going to write them anyway. Wayne Thomas Cook is Born Wayne was born on June 12th, 1946 in Pittsburgh, PA and adopted by his gracious parents, Thomas Boggs Cook and Ethel Margaret Johnson. Tragedy struck early in his life as, unfortunately, Ethel passed away when Wayne was 16. His father would marry again, though, with a loving and caring person, Louise (Gass) Cook. They would remain married until Thomas Boggs Cook’s passing on September 22, 1985. Louise would long continue her influential role as Wayne’s mom until her passing on September 22, 2012 at the age of 96. Wayne Grows Up His home was a modest home in a nice neighborhood in Green Tree, PA (a suburb of Pittsburgh). He had a favorite tree in his front yard. He called it the ‘airplane tree’. In his younger years he would routinely play with the neighborhood kids (many he remained friends with until his passing) and they would climb the tree, shuffle out onto the branches, and take turns opening the ‘bomb door’ (the bomb door in this case was an opening between two intersecting branches). Like many kids growing up in the 1950’s, he played baseball, loved cars, loved doo-wop music as it was emerging, learned everything he could from his father and could be a bit mischievous. As for his foray into sports, I recall that one year he said that he wanted to try boxing. His father was not a fan of the idea, but sometimes you have to let kids make mistakes. Dad’s first match, as the story goes, was against a young man with a pre-existing head injury. This young man had a helmet on to protect himself. Dad was told by the referee not to punch the head. His competition, being keen on the advantage, smartly blocked his body and threw quick jabs. Needless to say, dad didn’t box again. As to the mischievous part, I do recall a story of how he almost burned his house down while playing with matches and a candle UNDER his bed. We might be able to say that his intelligence matured over time. His dad and the family built a lake house and he would spend many wonderful seasons there learning about the outdoors. Another favorite place of his was Conneaut Lake Park, an amusement park in western PA. He could tell you about listening to the radio before bedtime and also tell you about the family’s first TV purchase in the winter time and how they loaded up the TV on a sled to get it to the house. He was a quintessential 1950’s American youngster living in a quintessential 1950’s town. Wayne Continues to Grow Up The early 1960’s were made for Wayne Cook. The quintessential theme continues here as dad enjoyed all that the early 60’s had to offer. Drag racing, cars, dating, dancing and singing. Anyone who has met Wayne Cook knows that his knowledge and ability to recall doo-wop and oldies music would rival even today’s internet search speeds. From singing in local groups to knowing how to dance to the music, he could do it all...and he did. He was from a time when people were proud of their high school. Dormont High School was his. Until his passing, he enjoyed going to class reunions whenever they occurred. I never attended with him, but the rumors were that no one could hold a candle to his dancing abilities. On a personal note, I’m glad dad introduced me to real music. I’m sure many reading this have some tunes that you can relate to for your experience in his life. I know I have many. Wayne would be connected to his sister, Karen (Louise’s daughter), when Thomas met Louise. Karen shared a close bond with Wayne, as their bedrooms were on one floor and they would often times spend long nights talking to each other about the problems of the day. Boys, girls, high school...everything was discussed between the two. The bond would continue throughout his life. Getting to the mid to late 60’s we get into an intriguing part of his life. He attended, and graduated from, Penn State University with a bachelor’s degree focused on logistics. Being a burgeoning field, he was at the forefront. He was a member of the Phi Kappa Psi fraternity. He would regale me with tales of fraternity dinners, dances and date nights. He truly enjoyed college for the academic challenge and the kinship of his friends. He continued his love for cars and drag racing. Another area, among many, that he never found a rival...his knowledge of cars. It didn’t matter whether you were to ask what the engine options were on a 1967 Chevelle or what transmission was available in a 1964 Ford Fairlane Thunderbolt, he had the answer faster than you could get the words out. Beyond the knowledge, he could also do. He loved to rebuild engines and work on vehicles. It was during his high school time and this time that he learned how to be a plumber, electrician, engineer and how to work through and solve any problem. He spent some time working in the steel mills in the surrounding area as well. He could work with his mind and his hands. A skill that most don’t possess and a skill that many (including me) wish I had. Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam), the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam), Laos, and Cambodia-We all thank you for your service. The full extent of such service, we may now never fully know. I thanked him every Veterans Day (I will continue to do so) and he had the hard-gained respect of many honorable and experienced individuals at the local VFW post. Army Reserves-Dad found his drill instructor funny. The drill instructor didn’t find dad funny. He excelled in artillery and everything military. His service could be a book in its own. Wayne Has to Get a Job...and He Gets One Kodak. Rochester, NY and Dallas, TX. A company that had a huge impact on dad’s life. A company that allowed him to take his family on long vacations. A company that rewarded him and challenged him. A company where he met lifelong friends who became family. If I had longer to research this portion of his life I would certainly write a more complete explanation of where he lived at different stages and who he met. One person that he met during his earlier Kodak years was my mother, Mary Cook. The number of stories during this period are innumerable. Kodak wasn’t just a company. It was a catalyst to lasting friendships and relationships. There’s Something About Mary-Wayne Finds Mary (or vice versa)...and a bunch of Italians and Ukrainians and Friends Who Would Become Family The exact details of how Wayne met Mary have probably been told to me, but the fact that I can’t recall the story probably means something. Either way, the person writing this obituary/story is the result. THE WEDDING DAY-The wedding day was blissful. Actually, dad got into a scuffle with his best man (I’ve heard several different reasons for this), punches were thrown and dad ended up hanging out in his car for a good while. The bride ended up with some blood on her beautiful white dress and an inebriated new husband to take care of. Can’t blame this one all on dad. This is partially the fault of Ukrainian ‘traditions’. Supposedly (maybe they were playing a bit of a joke), at the receiving table as people come up and congratulate the bride and groom, you must take a shot of whiskey or cognac...whatever is available. Dad followed the ‘tradition’. Other than some bruised egos, no one held a grudge and the wedding day story ended up being okay. THE HONEYMOON-Dad always was a hopeless romantic. However, I think the honeymoon after the wedding falls into the ‘hopeless’ category for the bride. Many of us love road trips. I love road trips. See exciting and new places, stay at nice or interesting hotels. A road trip for a honeymoon though? This was the 70’s and a driving trip out west probably wasn’t the most comfortable or romantic. Dad did it though. Mom played along with the ‘grand plan’ for a few states. As I recall, once they hit the gambling and dazzling-light meccas of Nevada, mom gave an ultimatum. We’re staying here for a few days or I’m done with this whole thing. They stayed. And the marriage had now survived the wedding day melee and a honeymoon mishap. Thank goodness, for my sake. Dad always loved history and, in particular, American history. A road trip in his mind was probably a way to bond with his new wife and to find common interest in the landscape and history of the areas. I see where he was going with that thought, but maybe it was a little too aggressive of a timeline (he liked to plan and then stick to the plan). After speaking with his sister, Karen, I found out the real reason why I think dad wanted a road trip honeymoon. His father and mother had a road trip honeymoon in which they brought dad and Karen along with them. A familymoon, so to speak. From what I understand from Karen, dad had a wonderful time on this trip and was likely trying to replicate that feeling a bit with his own honeymoon. During and around this time (maybe a bit before) in dad’s life he also got to meet what would be the first of his extended family. This is where the Italians and the Ukrainians come in. Dad would meet Gus Vorrasi (brother in law-Italian) married to Mary’s sister, Sofie Vorrasi (sister in law-Ukrainian), Luba and George Galan (mother and father in law-Ukrainian), parents to Sofie and Mary...not too confusing. Yes, there are 3 Ukrainians listed and only 1 Italian. We all know that the 1 Italian carries about 20 cousins behind him. My dad made fast friends with Gus and his whole extended Italian family. He enjoyed talking about Russian-Ukrainian politics with George and GREATLY enjoyed the Ukrainian cooking that Luba provided. He could also be found at George and Luba’s next door neighbor’s house, the Nesbitts (every single one of them wonderful, caring and true family). They were part of George, Luba, Sofie and Mary’s family, so they were his too. He also would go on to help care for Luba and George when their health failed and they passed on. He would also meet Mo and Bill Mulley, friends of Sofie and Gus, who would remain lifelong friends and supporters of the extended family. There is so much I could write here if I had the time. I can’t do this period justice. He was a very compassionate and caring person. Whether you were family or not, if you knew Wayne you could bet that if you needed something, he’d do it for you and be happy doing it. I know that he greatly enjoyed his time with his extended Italian family and his Ukrainian family. Even recently we had a riveting discussion (riveting probably only to me and him) about the small Italian glasses that the hole-in-the-wall (but amazing) Italian restaurants around Rochester use for their house wine. No matter the topic, dad would love to discuss it with you. He was interested in EVERYTHING. During this time he also would continue to solidify relationships with his best buddies. Many from Kodak. They would work together, hunt together and generally hang out together. Their special relationship lasts to this day as many of them have come in person for this day. There is not enough I can say about what their friendship and companionship meant to dad. Some of their comments appear at the end of this writing, so I encourage you to read them as well. A Child is Born Since this is about me, I’ll make it short and sweet. Dad was scared to death of having children, for many reasons. He was adopted, so he didn’t know his real health background. Would I come out with hoof feet? I didn’t, but I turned out to look like him a bit...not sure who’s the winner there. He was scared when I came out. This is why I heard “BE CAREFUL” every minute, on the minute as a child. It’s why I’m careful today and it’s why I warn everyone in almost any circumstance to BE CAREFUL. It’s why I probably went to law school...too many wet spots in the super market...too many extension cords crossing areas of foot travel. When I saw those things, all I could repeat in my mind is dad’s voice telling me to “BE CAREFUL”. You don’t realize it as a child, or even as a young adult, but all of those “BE CAREFUL”s were out of pure love and care. He couldn’t fathom anything happening to me and was genuinely terrified if something did. That’s not what makes dad special, though. Parents should generally have that instinct. We would have discussions later in life where he said to me that he thought he held on too tight and his fear somehow caused issues. He didn’t hold on too tight. I wish I could tell him now, but he let me explore on my own. As an example, he took me elk hunting on horseback when I was 14 or 15 and gave me a map and a compass (he had already taught me how to use them, of course). Told me to point my horse in a direction and ride as long as I could. Find a spot to hunt and, when it was time, find your way back to camp. He fought his fear and allowed me to thrive. I imagine he’s taught many things to the people reading this. I also imagine that his teachings will survive, as you will teach others what he taught you. The 80’s The 80’s were another great decade for dad. He excelled at work and took many business trips. In speaking with him recently I think the 80’s had some of the best memories for him. Surrounded by family and family friends, the fact that I look upon my first decade on Earth as idyllic, means a lot. He helped create the atmosphere so we could all grow together. We built on a custom deck to the house in Pittsford and also a large garage extension during this time. Dad drew up architectural drawings and got to work. He and his good friends and family did everything except for pour the concrete floor of the garage. The deck was famous, as the posts were fully encased in concrete and the large joists were triple stacked and attached with reinforced bolts normally used in metal projects. Needless to say, the deck and garage still stand today at the house. I imagine they will stand long after the house is gone. Dad loved the outdoors and we would usually take a trip to the Adirondacks in the spring or summer. Dad taught me how to shoot and hunt at a young age. We spent many trips to Colorado, Texas and Pennsylvania hunting together. A passion that many of his friends enjoy to this day and something that he was extremely good at. I will miss going to the range with him and having our friendly competitions to see who can hit the smallest target. Even as he got older, I couldn’t beat him. He said I did, but I knew better. He would miss a shot and say that his hands “weren’t as steady”. That excuse made sense until he’d slip up (thinking I wasn’t watching) and hit a few penny-sized clay shards, standing-offhand, at 35 yards on the dirt hill with his Colt 1911 .45. We would camp out with our 6-wheeled amphibious vehicle. As you all know, dad loved his toys. Anything he could get that was different than the rest, he had to have it. Camping with him, just us, are some of my fondest memories. I’m not sure how in the world he dealt with the chaos when me and my cousin (we’re basically like brother and sister), Lisa Vorrasi (Sofie and Gus’s daughter), would get rambunctious. Christmastime with us in the same house, nearly knocking over all of his keepsakes and collections of things...all we’d hear is his catch phrase “quit Mickey-mousing around”. One Christmas in particular, I believe I was maybe 7 or 8 and started to doubt the existence of Santa. Dad didn’t like this, so he set up a trap to ‘catch’ Santa. He ran a string from the fireplace attached to his large, typical 80’s style, camcorder. When Santa came down the chimney he would trip the string and the recording would start. Sounded great to me! The next morning, lo and behold! The string was tripped and there was a piece of red fabric that just must’ve accidentally torn off of Santa’s suit. On the tree was a red letter penned in beautiful gold calligraphy (thanks Mary Cook). We couldn’t get to the tape fast enough. What did we see? Lisa Vorrasi and I SAW Santa! The tape started and Santa was just getting out of the fireplace dressed in his traditional outfit. He looked around and then snuck to the tree. Removed gifts from his bag, appeared to pen the letter very quickly (I was amazed he could write so fast!) walked back to the fireplace. He then sat down and touched his nose and like that, he disappeared! I had proof that Santa was real. I told the neighborhood kids and they saw the video and I imagine that many parents wanted to have a word with dad as now all of these kids wanted to catch Santa. Notable mention to Mary Cook for helping with all of the logistics and helping to hide the suit as evidence. What a great team my dad and Mary made to make Christmases some of the best memories for the entire family. This is also an era where he enjoyed time with his best friends in Texas doing rattlesnake hunts, general hunts, general debauchery, minor chaos/major chaos and maybe some destruction. Yes, Wayne knew how to catch and collect rattlesnakes. I think we still have the rattlesnake catching sticks somewhere. The 90’s Another great decade for dad. He took more business trips at this time. He took us on several trips to both Japan and Brasil. Learning about new cultures by being immersed in them was a great experience. Dad could definitely immerse himself. He could learn languages very quickly and he was soon teaching me Japanese phrases and, later on, speaking Portuguese. Even to the point of discussing with some of the native-speakers the proper inflection, phrasing and word usage. We would have many great Christmases during the 90’s that were organized beautifuly and without a word of complaint (because she loved it) by Mary Cook but were ‘overseen’ by dad. He liked to make sure everything was just perfect. He would teach me to drive using his 1977 Ford Bronco in the mid-90’s. He had ported and blueprinted the 302 V-8 and it had a 3-speed Hurst shifter. The clutch was like pushing in a huge jar of molasses mixed with concrete with your foot. Getting it into first gear was nearly impossible and this is what he chose to have me learn on. I distinctly remember stalling out at the light at the entrance to the local mall. He just looked at me and calmly (which surprised me) directed me to the next steps while I was being honked at. He always told me to “know where your car fits and put it there”. An adage attributed to his father along with the ‘Cook parking luck’. It’s a real thing and has convinced me that there is more going on in the universe than we know. The 90’s were tough, also. This is when Mary and Sofie would lose both of their parents, Luba and George. The losses took a toll on everyone, but dad kept everyone moving forward. This decade also saw dad move to Brasil to start another chapter in his life. He took us to Brasil a few times to see if we wanted to move down there, too. No doubt, the trips back and forth to Brasil likely took a toll on the family. I was getting into my teens at the time, so I didn’t mind so much. We bumped heads a lot, as most young men and their fathers do at some point or another. Dad blew this period out of proportion a bit in his mind and blamed himself for things that just weren’t so. While I told him this several times later in life, it never fully sunk in. I wish I could tell him again and push it to sink in. You never think you’ll be the subject of the common mantra to tell loved ones what you really feel, before it’s too late. Tell them. The 2000s Dad would continue to excel at work. Wayne and Mary had gone their separate ways, after waiting until I was out of high school to do so. They would always keep in touch and make sure that I knew I was still their primary focus. He lived in Brasil in the late 90’s and into the 2000s. Dad thoroughly enjoyed Brasil, and was a founding member of the Harley Owners Group-Brasil. He loved riding his green Harley Dyna with his Brasilian Harley brothers. He had the only U.S. license plate in Brasil. He found a loophole in the Brasilian law...go figure. After he exploited it, they changed the law. A good person to fill in the story from here would be Gina Cook, Wayne’s loving and caring wife. They met, unbeknownst to him, at a Kodak dinner party many years back when Gina saw him cleaning his big glasses. As he looked up, his eyes sparkled and she had a crush. Of course, dad had no idea he had a secret admirer. She wouldn’t meet him again until down the road, just before he left Brasil to come back to the U.S. They would marry in 2007 at a small chapel in Weatherford, TX surrounded by family and friends. Married life for dad was his natural state of ‘being’...he NEEDED to be married. Dad could make an egg, toast, and open a can of soup. That’s it. However, he was a gourmet eater...he could pick out spices and what was right and wrong with any dish, as both Mary Cook and Gina Cook can attest. During this time, Dad and Gina would take several trips to Brasil to enjoy time with Gina’s extended family. Dad thoroughly enjoyed having a few drinks with Gina’s brothers in law and uncle. Dad would meet Gina’s son and daughter, Luiz Carlos and Raquel Amalia. They would come to love dad as he loved them. Just as I would come to love Gina as she loves me. Gina is the best at throwing surprise parties. Dad always complained about them but was always surprised...and he loved it! All of his friends would be at the parties and that’s where dad was his most natural. He would formally retire after decades working at Kodak and also, subsequently, being employed in the transportation logistics field in Texas. At this point in time, dad struggled with finding where he fit in, being retired...what would he do? He would find a passion in inventing things and improving designs of already-created products. I can always remember hearing him say “what was this engineer thinking when he created this?” At the time of his passing he was even working on a tool to help remove and replace a vehicle’s serpentine belt with ease. He had his new company, Victory Personal Protection Equipment and Training, specializing in a concealed-carry shoulder holster. A design he created and perfected himself. He enjoyed going to gun shows and selling the holsters. In fact, he even created a rotating, battery-powered, display mannequin (stained wood, glass and all) which was a TON of fun to put together (for both Gina and Brian, as we both were pulled into this small endeavor on several occasions). Dad had created a schematic as to how this display case both fit together, AND how it fit in the trunk of his car. Everything had a place and fit together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle. I enjoyed going in to Dallas or Fort Worth to help him set up and tear down and witness his eccentricities first hand. He was an animal lover and, after having a local cat visiting him on his back porch often, he adopted the cat. He named her Beleza (Portuguese for ‘beautiful’). That wasn’t enough, though. What if she got cold? What would happen? He needed to make a house. No problem. Get some wood, nail it together and voila! NOPE. Not for Wayne Cook. He had to engineer it with fully sealed insulation, a sunning deck and a perch. Beleza would now be his cat. He enjoyed finding ‘projects’ around the house. I say he enjoyed them but he would always call me to complain that he had to do this, or that. Or something broke and now he has to spend the day fixing it. He LOVED his projects. He also would never get settled with any of his vehicles. There was always a squeak, rattle or SOMETHING that, he felt, needed to be fixed. As we covered before, he was an avid engine builder and car/motorcycle lover. I would routinely come and visit only to find a front end taken off of a car or his 70’s Honda motorcycle carborators taken apart completely (I mean completely, small springs and all). In fact, I’m sure there’s something in the garage right now that needs to be put back together as an unfinished project. He just recently fully restored (that’s what he called it, the car was perfect already) his 1988 Fiero GT that he bought new in Waco, TX. He planned to bring it to Georgia shortly after he had it completed. This ‘restoration’ involved all new suspension (the full suspension, not just springs), all new brakes and rotors, all new exhaust, spark plugs, wires etc. etc. etc. The right speaker crackled, that meant a new speaker and upgraded wiring. He would send me detailed pictures of EVERYTHING he did. He had also, just before this, completely removed and replaced his Corvette’s gas tank after the gas gauge stopped working properly. Most people would take it to the shop, not dad. If he could fix it, he fixed it. Final project to mention here, he painted the entire house and the chimney. He bought scaffolding, climbed up and painted. He of course modified the standard scaffolding to create a landing that would actually attach to the roof so that it was more stable and he wouldn’t wobble as he painted. I recall coming over for a visit in the middle of the summer. Where did I find dad? He’s on the side of the house painting the chimney. Scaffolding all the way up, wearing a headband and sweating. I told him “Dad, come down. You’re 70 years old, I’ll pay for someone to paint this for you.” He wouldn’t have it. With a smile “Why would I pay someone when I can do it and I KNOW it’ll be done right.” The Final Chapter-Wayne Gets to Truly Enjoy Life Dad was a happy man. Quick to smile. I know for a fact that the last 15 years or so of his life were some of his happiest, and he was just getting started in enjoying it. I had moved in with him around 2005 after law school. I found a job and moved out and started my life only about an hour from him. We would see each other routinely. Ride motorcycles or go to gun shows, go shooting, hang out. He would find his relationship with Mary Cook, which was good before, even better. While they always kept in touch and communicated via phone calls and emails throughout the 2000s, they hadn’t seen each other in person for a while. They were both looking forward to seeing each other this summer when he visited me in Georgia, as he loved to do. Plans were being discussed to have he and Gina move to Georgia to be closer to everyone. Dad was genuinely excited for this chapter. This decade would have him meet his grandson, Isaiah Shaw and Isaiah’s mom, a truly remarkable person in every sense of the word, Jennifer Jones. He would help teach Isaiah how to shoot and work on things. They had a great relationship, full of laughs and discussions. Dad enjoyed spending time with Isaiah immensely. Isaiah has been a rock during this tragedy and I like to think that dad’s influence has helped with that fortitude. He is well-respected by me (always has been) and is now so by dad’s friends. Dad would get a chance to connect again with his nephew, Robb Scheetz (son of Wayne’s sister, Karen), during the later part of his life. Dad loved to sit down at dinner and have political discussions with Robb. They were on opposite spectrums, generally, but had mutual respect for the exchange of ideas. Robb also has an amazing job that has him at many major sporting events. As you can imagine, dad would routinely take Robb up on his invites to see some drag racing or Nascar races. They had good times together and dad appreciated this connection immensely. Dad would also get involved with finding his biological parents at this time. He never wanted to search for them while his mom and dad were alive, out of undying respect for them. After his mom, Louise Cook’s passing, he asked me to help start the search. Through a long process, we found some names. This lead to him finding his biological sister on his mother’s side, Roberta Langhofer a.k.a. Bobbi. Bobbi was an only child, and finding out that she had a brother was joyfully overwhelming. We met Bobbi and her husband, Dan, in 2015. We had dinner at a Brasilian steakhouse. Dad brought some yellow roses (it’s Texas, of course) and Bobbi brought a collage of pictures of his biological mother. He and his biological mother looked very similar and we enjoyed that evening getting to know one another. Dad would go out to Albuquerque to visit Bobbi, subsequently, and attend his new family reunion. I recall him telling me about all of the people and family that he met and how he was looking forward to taking me to the next one. Over the last year dad had made several trips to Georgia to visit me and the family. He enjoyed spending time and playing with his new nephew, Nolan Johnston. He got to hang out with the Italian and Ukrainians again, just like the old days, Gus and Sofie. He enjoyed joking around with his niece, Lisa (as they liked to do). He found a new friendship with Lisa’s husband, Brian. We had many motorcycle rides planned and many ‘projects’ around my house to do. My house didn’t need any help. Not much to do...but there was much to do. We would do the aforementioned projects and also make sure to get out to the mountains to ride. He was the first to ride my new Harley. I told him that I wanted the first person to ride it to be him...that was a ploy, I was really just scared to ride a cruiser-sized motorcycle and he had obviously decades of experience. I needed to actually see with my own eyes that if he could do it, I could do it. Looking back, I’m so glad he got the first ride. With the help of his great friend, Joe Derso, he had his green Dyna trailered up to my house in GA so that he would have it there to ride between possible plans to move. The same Dyna that he took to Brasil all of those years ago. On his last trip up we washed it, put the battery tender on it so the battery would stay charged over winter and put his cover on. It sits in my garage in GA like that today, ready for the next ride. He saw the best in people and he got people to see the best in themselves. He helped many of us realize our full potential and he always believed that if you put your mind to it, you could accomplish great things. Among his closest friends he was known as ‘Google Wayne’ because he seemed to have knowledge at his fingertips. He didn’t need a computer or to check on his phone. He helped many of us with well-reasoned and thought out advice. So many plans and projects unfulfilled. So much knowledge gone. So many hearts ripped apart. So many people, known and could have been, who will not get the privilege of knowing this amazing person. He had a lot longer to go but he will forever be in our hearts and minds. He will be in our stories. Stories that will outlive all of us. Some things I’ll never forget His keen ability to empathize His strong hugs His strong handshake (and the old-school kindness of a gentle handshake when shaking hands with a woman) His kind eyes His warm smile The way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room His curiosity His hearty and heartfelt laugh His passion for information and learning His ability to over-engineer, in a good way His beginning hearing loss that he claimed he didn’t have His ability to stay young at heart and young in the mind-he was sharp as a tack You may not know... Wayne was an inventor and perfected a concealed shoulder holster-he was working on an advanced way of concealing firearms in the home Wayne created several of his own companies (Hunter’s Edge Firearms, Victory Personal Protection Equipment & Training, Cook Consulting) Wayne held many titles during his decades of work: served on a board of directors for a major nationwide executive moving and logistics company, vice-president of logistics at Kodak, chief logistics and supply chain officer at Paladin. Wayne was a certified NRA firearms instructor and Texas DPS certified concealed carry instructor Wayne has a pilot’s license Wayne has completed two long distance motorcycle “iron-butt” runs (yes, it’s a thing...https://www.ironbutt.org/) Wayne was a founding member of the Harley Owners Group (HOG) Brasil Wayne was a prolific builder. He could shoot engineering elevations, do plumbing, electrical and draft architectural designs. Wayne spoke at the World Trade Organization I would like to say a special thank you to everyone who has been a rock for the family, here physically, and also the outpouring of well-wishes from everyone out of town for me and for Gina and all touched. Too many to name and not enough time to name them all. Some words from some of his best buddies: Joe Derso Wayne was a man who always strove to solve problems to perfection, never ceasing to quit until the desired results were reached. He was a storehouse of immense knowledge, which enabled him to converse with virtually anyone on any subject. This earned him the name “Google Wayne” from his closest friends. Phil Headley I met Wayne in the early 70’s. We quickly became “fast”, life-long, friends . I was older by a few years, but when it came to bikes, firearms and all things mechanical he was my teacher. He taught me to ride and to shoot. To know Wayne was to thoroughly trust and respect him and despite rumors to the contrary, he wasn’t a bad first baseman, either. Jim DeClerck When I think of Wayne T. in my life, mental pictures rise from Kodak days when we would interface over various logistical issues at Building 605 in Rochester and in Kodak's outstanding Regional Distribution Centers. On a more informal basis were the various elk hunts we experienced together. One hunt in particular involved several of us dragging out a bull elk that Joe Geer had shot. It was the only time our hunting crew ever brought down one of those elusive and massive creatures. Wayne T. grabbed one of the ropes tied to the elk's antlers and pulled more than his share of the load. He was that kind of a guy, out in front giving his best effort on the job. In recent times he and I communicated by email and by phone as we shared shooting sports issues. His advice lead to my obtaining several very nice sporting arms which I shall now treasure all the more. Wayne T. was generous with his time and when I visited Weatherford recently he conducted visits to many Texas style features in the area, including a genuine long horn steer cattle drive at the Fort Worth Stockyards and lunch with friends at Booger Red's Saloon. He also introduced me to his friend David Bullard, the gunleather maker nearby, from whom I bought a nice pistol holster. I recently had in mind to return to Weatherford and steal some more of Wayne T.'s time and his and Gina's hospitality. Now I'm too late but my memories of our collaborations will continue to warm my heart and I will continue to count myself very fortunate to have been able to know and share good times together with this fine gentleman whom we all will miss so much. Gary Paquin Wayne was always there for all of us; Mr Google – ask him anything and he always had a detailed explanation that you could take to the bank; a truly unselfish man and dear friend who will never be forgotten.... I thought long and hard about what he would possibly want to say, if he could, to end this. Here’s my best shot. “My dearest friends, my best buddies and my incredible family, I know you are heartbroken now and cannot comprehend the events. While you mourn the loss of me, I mourn the loss of you. I have just lost so many great relationships and there are so many things I wanted to do and still had to accomplish. So many things I wish I could’ve said to you, as I imagine you may wish you could have said to me. You may not hear me, but I will hear you. So, say them to me whenever you feel you need to. You were all instrumental in my life. You were my best of friends, my loves, my sons, my daughters, my nephews, my nieces, my sisters, my brothers, my cousins and on. While I will miss many milestones, birthdays, events and holidays physically, I will most certainly be with you in spirit. Do not linger on this event. Love with passion, make time for your loved ones, tell them you love them and always remember to laugh and smile, even when it’s most difficult. Everything will be okay. To those of you who know me now only through stories, I truly wish I could’ve met you. Remember, except for God, let no one nor no thing control your life, other than for the good of Mankind. Farewell my friends and family. Until we meet again...”