M. William Hart passed away on February 12, 2006 while vacationing in Hawaii. Son of Mary Augusta Reilly and Sylvanus H. Hart, Jr., he was born in Brooklyn, N.Y. on May 16, 1931.
Bill graduated from Hofstra University, was stationed in Alaska by the U.S. Army during the Korean conflict, and returned to get his masters degree in Education at Hofstra. He was a unique spirit always living life to its fullest.
As a young man, he married his High School sweetheart, and together they raised four children. During the 60s and 70s, they moved from suburban Long Island to northern New Jersey, back to Long Island and then to Winchester, Massachusetts as Bill advanced in his professional career. It was during this part of his life that he discovered his deep love for the Bible and took that message to the airwaves with a Bible-based radio show.
He was a passionate lifelong fan of the New York Yankees and his enthusiasm for sports led him to wirte a newspaper column and to host another radio show. As a sports journalist, he became interested in publishing and became the editor and publisher of a magazine called SPIKE, dedicated to the sport of volleyball.
He was a gifted teacher and spent his entire professional life in education looking for ways to make a difference in the educational process. He called himself a "change agent" recognizing that change was good and necessary for progress in education. His work in the Somerville School System as the principal of the Kennedy, Winterhill and Cummings schools was proof of that philosophy.
During the middle part of his life, he remarried and raised three children. He founded the Georgetown Education Foundation and served on the Georgetown School Committee, the VFW and the Conservation Commission. He was a member and then president of the Kiwanis Club, where he ran a tennis tournament and the Old Nancy Road Race. In his "spare time" he also ran The Tin Roof antiques shop.
In the late fall of 2001, Bill moved to a small town in Maine called Rangeley where he settled into what is locally known as "the Strangeley Life." It was there that he met his third life partner and they agreed to share the "back nine" of life together.
Together they enjoyed rambling about the Maine countryside attending auctions and enjoyed many travel adventures always bringing along their golf clubs.
In addition to being an avid golfer, Bill loved the game of tennis. He also skied Sugarloaf and Saddleback Mountains, and enjoyed taking part in community events. Bill felt that if you lived in Maine you had to learn to play cribbage, and became an outstanding cribbage player. In the summertime, he ran a small antique shop known as Dallas Hill Antiques.
During the summer of 2005, while working for the Department of Inland Fisheries, Bill was credited for being the first in recognizing an invasive destructive plant on a visitors boat. Because of his quick action in averting the contaminated boat from entering the lake, he was dubbed a local hero and recognized by the State Department of Inland Fisheries as such. In his own way, he enjoyed the local teasing of being named "The Milfoil Man."
While in Rangeley, he enjoyed the quiet opportunity to write children's Christmas stories, several of which were published in the local newspapers at Christmastime. Bill was a member of the Rangeley Lakes School Board representing Dallas Plantation; a member of the Rangeley Rotary; and a member of the Board of Trustees for the Rangeley Public Library.
His constant companion, a chocolate lab named Rufus, was by his side day and night.
A memorial service for Bill will be held in Rangeley in the Spring. A Memorial Fund will be established at the Rangeley Public Library for Children's Books.
4 comments:
I'm sorry. I remember reading your father was in the hospital. Was Bill your dad? If so, I'm giving you a cyberhug.
I'm sorry to hear about your loss; I lost my father 4 years ago.
I really couldn't understand how one would through that without a Buddhist practice.
I'd been away, Shokai. I am sorry to hear your father passed on. That most predictable of changes is always a surprise.
My dad taught his kids cribbage, the only game he was known to enjoy. Hunting, fishing, in fox holes and troop ships, he usually carried a little folding board, ivory pegs and worn deck of cards.
My rabbi once said that one of the big favors a man can do his children is to die. On days when I look back, I understand this, seeing how my dad's death when I was 24 just precedes a slow-burn midlife crisis that I may not have cleared yet. Other days I just think what a waste because he knew so much more than he talked about.
The memory of the vigrously humane shall be a blessing for us.
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