George W. Rodgers

rodgers, georgeGeorge died on October 21, 2014.

He wrote this obituary himself, just after he died.

Just kidding, of course, about that last part.

Most folks believe there will be a life after death in some sort of paradise. I hope they are right, but I’d settle for a life as good as the one I just had.

Right off, I was born at one of the best times — May 6, 1920 — in one of the best towns in the West — Greybull, Wyoming — and to the best parents, Bert and Osie Rodgers.

The original settlers of that area were still alive. Most folks didn’t have radios or telephones. Some had cars, but there was a hitching rack near the post office for those who had horses.

My parents left school to work after the eighth grade, but they saw to it that I graduated from college – University of Colorado BSEE 1942.

The war had started and I joined the Army. The Army added immensely to my education in electronics through six months of courses at Harvard and MIT. While there, I met a classy lady with a beautiful Boston accent and a heart o’ gold, Myrtle Standish Attwood (A.K.A. Billie and Michelle). She has been the love of my life for 62-plus years.

We raised a son, Will, and a daughter, Jane. They gave us seven fine grandsons, Hunter Wyatt and Garrett Rodgers and Trip, Mark, Jon and Bill McCallister, as well as the world’s best daughter-in-law, Wendy Black Rodgers.

Most of my war was spent keeping anti-aircraft radars working in North Africa, Italy, France and Germany. I did pretty good, I guess. They awarded me the Bronze Star and promoted me to Captain.

After the war, I had two good years at Westinghouse Electric in the Tube Division, and 32 great years at Sandia National Laboratory.

Along the way, I met a lot of great friends, neighbors and coworkers. Many have already left for the new life. Some have promised to lay claim to about three miles of virgin trout water, and 10 square miles of prime hunting land for our exclusive use. That and to be young and reunite with Michelle is about as close to Heaven as I can imagine right now.

So long to all my friends and offspring – I wish you a good life. P.S.: I’m thinking the hunting ground may be plush with morels chanterelle, agaricus and maybe even truffles.

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