Roger Wilson

True to my dad’s personality, he wrote his own obituary. And true to the promises we made him, we are publishing it as he recorded it. In his words, his life can be summarized by the following: 

Roger Wilson, 79, of Maryville, TN, passed away on January 12, 2026 in his home, surrounded by family. Born in Macomb, IL on April 9, 1946, Roger was raised on a family farm near Table Grove, IL. He attended school in the consolidated district of V.I.T. He received his Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration from Monmouth College, IL in 1968. Along with his wife, Geneva (Haney) Wilson, Roger moved to Woodstock, IL where would spend his entire career in education in the Woodstock school system. In 1970, he was drafted into the U.S. Army serving primarily at Ft. Polk, LA until his honorable discharge in 1971. Following his military service, Roger earned his Master’s Degree in Business Education at Western Illinois University before resuming his teaching position in Woodstock. There he taught business courses at Woodstock High School as well as serving as vocational director, then assistant principal, and eventually principal (1983 to 1993). Prior to retirement in 2001, he taught computer classes primarily at Olson Middle School but also to staff from across District 200. 

Roger married Geneva (Haney) Wilson and together they raised three children until Geneva’s death in 1993. In 1995, Roger married Judith Clay who also worked in the Woodstock schools. In 2002, upon retirement, they relocated to eastern TN. Roger is survived by his wife, Judy, three children, Julie (Rob) Courter of Paw Paw, MI, Amy Koehn of Paw Paw, MI, and Garrett (Diana) of Greensboro, GA, two step-sons, Ted (Anne) Feltmeyer of Grafton, WI and Scott Feltmeyer of Freeport, IL, eight grandchildren, and two great grandchildren. 

At a later date, a private burial will be held at Greenwood Cemetery in Woodstock, IL. In lieu of flowers or a donation to a memorial fund, private contributions to the donor’s favorite charity are encouraged. 

His words provide a resume-like summary of his career and academic accomplishments. What they do not fully capture, however, is the man he was beyond those achievements. There is much more to be said about his childhood, the relationships that shaped him, and the experiences that formed the values he carried throughout his life.

Dad’s greatest accomplishments didn’t come from a university or a career in education. What reads like a side note in his own version, was, in truth, his greatest accomplishment of all: his three children - Julie, Amy and Garrett - and the grand- and great-grandchildren who followed. Being raised by a man with such a deep and abiding love for his family was a true privilege. Dad took his role as provider seriously, sometimes working three jobs to advance his career or create the best possible life for his family. Yet no matter how busy he was, he always had time for a game of catch in the yard. He never missed a play, a band performance, piano recital, or a sporting event involving his kids. He helped with last-minute math assignments, kept an open-door policy for all of our friends, and was known to join in games of pool or ping-pong - often beating teenage opponents left-handed before casually admitting he was actually right-handed. 

He was a passionate woodworker, building the very beds we slept in as children, along with shelves, jewelry boxes, treasure chests, hope chests, toys and holiday decor. Countless hours were spent in the woodshop, with one of us perched on the green stool, “helping.” His patience seemingly endless, tested only if we failed to give our best effort. 

Dad wasn’t just professionally connected to the local school district; he and Mom were deeply embedded in the life of their community. Even in his professional roles, he was far more than “just” an administrator or teacher. He genuinely invested himself into the growth of students and staff alike. He cared for elderly neighbors, hosted new staff picnics, and was an active member of their local church. He chaperoned dances - where he famously (and more than once) split his pants doing “The Twist.” As a family, we learned to play competitive mini-golf, Canasta, and were taught to always hold our thumb forward when releasing a bowling ball. 

Despite the demands of his career, Dad was a steadfast partner in the fight against his wife’s cancer. For more than a dozen years, he balanced treatments, surgeries, hospital stays and relapses, all while remaining actively involved in the community and school district he loved and remained fiercely committed to preserving the family he cherished.

 He loved spending time with his siblings and their children. He attended many high school reunions, enjoyed reconnecting with old friends from his time in the military, and keeping in touch with former neighbors and colleagues. 

His cherished time in the woodshop eventually extended naturally to his grandchildren, along with trips and cruises, shared with them. He was always intentional about building not only memories, but meaningful life experiences, even if that meant explaining why it was important to put on your shoes before driving to the ball game an hour away; learning about velocity from taking a turn in the golf cart a bit too fast; or learning that the blue-tailed skink isn’t actually endangered after all. 

When he married for the second time, he never once used the word “step” to describe either of the grown children his new wife brought into his life. He cared for Judy’s mother, sisters and family just as he did his own.

In retirement, Dad traveled extensively, opening his mind to new perspectives and ways of life. He continued woodworking, creating beautiful gifts including serving trays, wine racks, charcuterie boards, tables and anything else someone might request. He made Christmas ornaments for the staff at his doctor’s office, furniture pieces for charitable auctions, and candle holders, bowls and decorations for loved ones of all ages. With his time, he also perfected his pun-filled “RJ’s” or “Roger Jokes,” joined a men’s pool league, and generously helped many retired neighbors navigate IT or phone issues. 

The legacy Dad leaves behind is not one defined by degrees, titles, or even the number of years he lived, as his humble version of his own obituary might lead you to believe. His legacy is one of humor, love, respect and responsibility. He didn’t simply hope his children would grow up to be generous, humble and grateful members of society - he modeled those qualities, practiced them daily and expected them. 

Though Dad’s leather recliner now sits empty, the workbench holds no unfinished projects, and no sporting events play on the television, the essence of all he brought into this world remains. His kindness has spread far and wide and his thoughtful, tender heart will live on in all of us.