For almost 40 years, Wilson provided my family with friendship, guidance, and laughter. It was Wilson whom I chose to stand with Debbie when I called her at school to deliver sad family news. It was Wilson who dropped off MLS books when our son became interested in real estate. It was Wilson with whom quick morning coffees overlooking East Put provided laughter, joy, and encouragement. It was Wilson who bound words to be presented as gifts of friendship. And it could only have been Wilson for whom the intersection of religion and noisy ducks seemed as right as rain, as in this email he sent to me with a Rosh Hashana greeting in 2009:

“L'Shana Tovah! 5770....May we live in good health to see 5800....I'll be 96! Look forward to seeing you at the office on Wed Oct 7th at 8 AM. If you give the security guard this password....QUACK QUACK....he will escort you to the head of the line. Best to Debbie. Wilson.”

Best to you, Wilson. May your name be inscribed in the Book of Life Forever.
Dale and Debbie Lewis
 

Alex Fordyce printed this card in Howard Bliss's print shop at GCDS when he was in 7th grade in 1964. Wilson introduced him to the music of Dylan. We've had it on our frig for a long long time. Thank you dear Wilson for guiding our parenting.

I first met Wilson at the annual HBA picnics held on Ram Island. I later had the privilege of doing some projects and Wilson and I became very good friends. I also met Dakota Wilson's 4 legged companion. Dakota and I would share coffee and lunch breaks. She would also meet me when I arrived and would see me off when I left. Dakota and I also were best of friends. Time went on and Dakota passed on early one Summer. She went on ahead. Wilson called me and said next time you are in town I need you to help me with something on Ram. I went out and was met on the deck by Wilson and Patty. Wilson was holding a box. He said inside are the remains of Dakota. I had a lump in my throat. Wilson said we are going to take these ashes one handful at a time and make a path around the house. We all grab a handful and started around the house. The lump soon gave way to tears. We finished the circle and Wilson said Dakota's spirit surrounds this house and it will protect all who come here. I was humbled this day because Wilson had done this, humbled because he asked me to participate and humbled because I did participate. Thank you for the many lessons you have given me and your friendship. I am going to miss you and you will never be forgotten. Your spirit like Dakota's will forever be in our hearts. Rest in Peace my friend.

This is Wilson and some of GCDS class of 1985. We were on a class retreat in the upstate NY in the fall of 1982. 

This is a dreamy double exposure of Wilson, Ben Huffard and Greg Guidotti in the early days of Ram Island, likely 1985. We were staying on the mainland and moving stones on the island in preparation for building. 

Wilson visiting us in California in 2009

Of all the places to visit, Wilson and Patty are true friends for coming to rainy Amsterdam back in 2000. Little did they know, their trip spanned our national holiday, where drunk Dutchies dress in orange and pee in canals. Patty really was a great sport while Wilson and I quacked our way through Amsterdam.

In Wilson's eternal curiosity of cultures and religions, he found himself on Dam Square in the middle of a bagel drop. Wilson ducked as bagels flew from the palace side to the WWII monument ends of the square. He took shelter behind a stroopwafel cart. Wilson found a few proximal bagels, picked them up and stood up himself armed for hurling across the square. Imagine this and the cry of "WHOPPEE!" when his bagels took flight. 

In true Wilson manner, his story is marked with humor, excitement, beaming eyes, eye brows raised, quacks, and most importantly, history. "I asked why the bagels. The Dutchman with a few teeth missing replied that it is a tradition replicating when the allies dropped bread when we were liberated by the Americans and Canadians." That made Wilson proud. Especially with his enduring interest in the Jewish language and culture. 

For me, this memory embodies just a few unique qualities I aspire to control in my friend and mentor: humor with intelligence of a wise and experienced man combined with the energy of a young and playful soul. Forever young, Wilson. That's how you will always be. Great respect. Love always, Friso

Motoring out to the island Wilson warned us to keep our voices down on the water because they travell and as out of towners we don't want to disturb the Millers and others ashore.
So we followed orders as good G.C.D.S. boys did all week long travelling back and forth from the maine land with supplies and gear. Wilson would whisper the daily plans to us over the grinding whine of the 9 horse power Johnson that barely pushed us through the cove in the little white dory.
The last day we stood on the peir and watched Wison attempt to pull the boats 50 pound mooring for winter storage by slownly turning the chaine over a 2x4 inch by inch. As he struggled with the last few cranks the weight of mooring broke the rig and it sank back to the bottom........Silence was broken in the cove at that moment as Wilson burst out into a series of curses that turned into one long phrase as if he had gone this far he might as well keep going. I think a Loon took off in fear flapping for the next cove over.
Of course it all ended in laughter and a tale that still lives on to be enjoyed at our lunch meetings and gatherings today.
Thanks for the fun times Wilson.
Best, Johnny