Remembrances of Woody shared at the Memorial Service

From Joanne Kerbs Caramanica:

I am Joanne and I would like to talk about Uncle Woody. Going to Uncle Woody's and Aunt Carlee's house always seemed like an adventure to me. Although my home was only about an hour south east of Caldwell, 400 Mountain Avenue seemed like another world. First there was the smell of Uncle Woody's pipe tobacco that filed the air as soon as you walked in the door. It smelled exotic but how could that be since Uncle Woody came from Iowa?

And then there was the feel of the wood and leather and stone that Uncle Woody and Aunt Carlee used throughout their home. At the time that was so different to me. I don't know who made those decorating decisions. Maybe that was the yin and the yang of Uncle Woody and Aunt Carlee. I remember being outside in the summer and never knowing if you might step on a frog or get your feet full of mud but no matter what happened it was okay. I remember that as a time when Aunt Carlee was in charge of the inside of the home and Uncle Woody was in charge of the outside. Those are wonderful memories for me and I just wanted to share them with you today.

From David White:

Woody’s legacy consists of big and small parts. His family, civic and professional accomplishments have been well described here, and I will turn to more ordinary aspects of his life. On balance, it might develop that the mundane isn’t so mundane. The setting is the shop at 400 in the 1960s and 70s: A group of Byron’s friends congregated there with activities centered on nursing various Volkswagons past their prime. It was not for nothing that two of these ancient vehicles became known as F-1 and F-2, the “Fossil Racing Team.”

The process of mechanics is an orderly one; us, not so much. Nevertheless, whenever we messed something up—and he’d let you do that-- Woody would casually join in to steer us to a solution. Except for the exclamation, “Aaw fer gowd’s sake,” his assistance was nearly invisible. Still, it involved logic, creativity and work. These things rubbed off. One example will illustrate this. The oil cooler on the F-2 snapped off breaking the platform to which it attached to the engine. The engine was magnesium and the supports could not be welded back. Without them, the whole thing was shot, and this student’s budget didn’t permit replacement. Woody examined the problem, noting a depression in the engine casing: “Make a plaster cast of that, take it to a machine shop and have them build it 1/100 oversize.” (“Huh….???). When the part came back, he smacked it into the depression where it stuck, friction fit, drilled mounting holes and installed the oil cooler. The whole thing was unorthodox, creative and it worked: Things go wrong but if you use your head and are lucky, there are solutions.

Amidst wrenches, car parts, tobacco smoke (and the occasional Budweiser from the last remaining copper colored Westinghouse refrigerator on earth) there was also news radio, which lead to discussions of events and policies. No one will be surprised to hear that in this, Woody was, opinionated; however he encouraged other viewpoints and the dialogues they occasioned. Imagine that: thinking!

Recalling the serious parts of this wouldn’t be complete without recognizing that the experience was fun and funny. Woody wasn’t a stick in the mud. He liked humor (albeit a little corny) and brought a sense of quiet joy to tasks.

Don’t get the idea that this stuff was pedantic. It wasn’t. Woody’s instruction was by the power or example. He was a great guy. Many of us are better for that.