In Memoriam

Gerald Robert Wilt died last Monday, December 26, 2016, at 0135. He was 83. Gerald Wilt was my father in law. Andrea and I are currently in Auburn to meet with family and pay our respects.

The first time I met Andrea's dad I was of course nervous. He was a highly respected member of the Auburn University faculty and I was still a student. I sat across from him in the family living room and it seemed like he grilled me on everything from my future plans, to my knowledge of basic life sciences (he was a microbiology professor), to the ramification of the Huns' sweep across Asia and into Europe (I'm not kidding). At the end of the "interview", he looked at me over the brim of his glasses, gave the slightest imperceptible nod, and went back to reading his paper.

Over the years, while Andrea and I were dating and after we got married, her dad and I would continue this banter. Somewhere along the way, the questioning gave way to conversations. He'd tell me stories of growing up in Indiana, where he was in high school when the true story of "Hoosiers" was happening in real life.

He told me about his time in the Air Force as a mechanic for our strategic bombers. Some of those tales dropped my jaw, and I found myself looking out the window for "men in black" who just had to be surveilling a guy who knew what he knew.

He loved being a Yankee transplanted into the deep south. He'd talk about fly fishing in the cold mountain streams of North Georgia. He tied his own flies and used to drive out to the mountains every weekend. He gave me some of his hand tied flies a few years back. They're magnificent works of art.

He had a lot of stories about his time as a professor. He loved teaching. Auburn University has a first rate veterinary school, and for a generation, all veterinary students had to pass through his class.  Every now and then, I'll still meet a veterinarian who had him as an instructor. Universally, they all loved him. I always regretted not being able to take one of his classes.

On one visit to Auburn, we drove the '67 Mustang. He was as excited about the car as I was. This brought on another flood gate of stories from his time as an Air Force mechanic. We popped the hood and poked around the engine bay, kicked the tires, and were crawling around under the frame in no time. Whenever he called or emailed, he'd ask about the car. This led to another story swap.

I'm going to miss the conversations and his stories.