Dad—A Remembrance
My dad’s most public successes were those achieved in the business and professional world, whether at AT&T, on numerous corporate boards, in his work in support of charitable causes, or in his many years serving Wabash in return for all that Wabash had given him. The “corporate chieftain” persona—the business-like, no nonsense and unemotional approach to assessing information, reaching conclusions and executing action plans—both enabled much of Dad’s success and defined how many saw him. But there was also an adventuresome, sometimes whimsical side to my father, a side that made infrequent appearances, but ultimately helped define his true personality: Piling a young family of six in a station wagon to drive from Indiana to west central Florida for a family vacation—4 a.m. departure, window cracked and a cigar in his mouth (he swears they were never lit, but I remember otherwise). Coming home one afternoon with a brand-new 14-foot Hobie Cat catamaran sailboat (as far as I know he had never sailed a boat in his life), followed that weekend by the first of many outings to Eagle Creek Reservoir for a sail with six of us crowded onto the trampoline deck. Insisting we go dancing after dinner on the evening I brought Susan home to meet my parents for the first time (this was completely out of character, but a sure sign of approval of my wife-to-be). Riding double on motor scooters to and from dinner on Grand Cayman, Mom with her arms wrapped tightly around Dad’s waist pleading, “Bob, slow down!” Body surfing at the Jersey shore into his late 70s, always striving to outdistance his children and grandchildren for the longest ride. It is true that Dad rarely displayed emotion, and he was often described as “soft-spoken” and “a man of few words.” He was a listener and a thinker and, in this era of oversharing, content to let his actions speak for themselves. That was okay, though—he did not need to tell us how to lead our lives, how to be good citizens, how to conduct ourselves in our day-to-day activities, how to manage through the ups and downs of everyday life. By conducting himself at all times as a gentleman and responsible citizen (he spoke about the Gentleman’s Rule to many of his colleagues throughout his career), his actions said much more than any words or emotions might convey. Dad had two loves in his life: his family and Wabash College. Both truly defined the man he became, and he devoted much of his energy to loving and supporting both. Eleven months before his death, in October 2015, Wabash named my mother an honorary alumna of Wabash College, Class of 1957. That day at Homecoming Chapel, as Mom accepted her degree to rousing applause from our family and all those in attendance, I turned to look at Dad and, for the first and only time in my life, saw tears in his eyes. Dad will miss Wabash as much as we miss him.
AUSTIN ROBERT WEIRICH ’18 Austin Robert Weirich, 20, died September 10. Born January 5, 1996, Weirich was a graduate of Goshen High School. Weirich was majoring in economics and minoring in business at Wabash, and had participated in the programs of the Center for Innovation, Business, and Entrepreneurship. He also had been a Democracy Fellow in the Wabash Democracy and Public Discourse (WDPD) initiative. Weirich was president of the Independent Men’s Association, was an active member of the Wabash Acts Responsibly (WAR) Council, and played on the 2014 and 2015 Wabash football teams. He is survived by his parents, Keith and Leslie Weirich of Goshen, IN.
A remembrance
We live in a fragile place that values community and each other. Valuing one another in close, caring relationships isn’t something that comes easily. When you care deeply, that means a tragic loss like Austin’s hurts deeply. But there is a time for remembering. In the days following Austin’s death I sat amongst his WDPD colleagues, who spoke of a kind, hard-working, energetic individual who pushed them to achieve their best and who was motivated to improve the world around him for the better. At the Friday-night vigil, I heard Austin’s freshman-year roommates talk about how, early on in the semester, Austin let them know that he would take care of them, even when it came to late-night snacks: after all, his church group had sent him to college with at least two dozen jars of peanut butter. A student who was put onto Austin’s team for one of the CIBE programs shared that Austin helped him have a positive attitude every day. For Austin, such help for others seemed to flow out of him, usually accompanied by his big grin that just seemed to say, “Come on, you got this!” I think Austin is the only student I’ve ever had who showed up to two semester’s worth of 8 a.m. classes with a smile on his face, wishing me and everyone else a “morning.” Austin didn’t even have to say “good” in front of the “morning,” because the way he said “morning” just filled you with a sense of good morning. We have lost a student, a friend, a roommate, a teammate, a leader, a colleague, and a bright young man—a kind and dear member of our Wabash family. —Sara Drury, associate professor of rhetoric
—Jay Allen ’79
FA L L 2 0 1 6 | 6 5