Bill Ward

In the words of Kahlil Gibran, “Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.”

These are the earthly remains of Bill Ward, which we are burying today as we return him to his parents and ancestors who loved him. We ask that they accept him into their everlasting world. But we will never bury the spirit of Bill Ward, for he will never be forgotten. He is in our hearts, in our minds, in his children every day.

Bill was an original, no disputing that. He was passionate about his causes. He cared about being a scientist, a professor, a Democrat, a Yankee fan, an environmentalist, a maker of mulch, a lover of music and art. But it better be his kind of music and his kind of art — God help anyone who interrupted him while he was telling a story. And he cared about family in his own absent-minded professor way. He was a devoted son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, and uncle.

Bill was born on March 19, 1942, the year Harrison Ford, Barbara Streisand, Carole King, Stephen Hawking, and Joe Biden were also born. Gas cost 20 cents a gallon, a new car cost$920, and a movie ticket was 30 cents. For Frank and Betty Ward, the birth of William Warren Ward was enough to give them hope for a brighter future in spite of World War II. Much to his father’s dismay, he was an over achiever. Frank couldn’t fathom all the years Bill committed to school while getting his Bachelor of Science and master’s degrees at the University of Florida, his Ph.D. from John’s Hopkins, and his postdoctoral from the University of Georgia. But Betty got it, and she was a champion always to all three of their children wherever their lives took them.

Bill was a brother to Bev and Brad. He was an inspiration to them and cared about them deeply. It’s probably no accident that they too became educators. He was an uncle to nephews Bernard, Jimmy, Tommy and Dana and bonus uncle to Ari, Kira, Kim, Suzy, Alison, Steven, and Holly. We made special trips to Massachusetts to see family members perform in plays and to celebrate holidays and special occasions.

Family get-togethers in Florida would often include some kind of board or ballgame. Whenever he could, Bill would play softball. He bragged that at one point he was in four different leagues. If he could have had a dream career, it would have been to be a baseball player.

He was a father by his first wife to his son, Randy, and daughter Jenni and, at age 51, he became father to our daughter, Melanie. He became father-in-law to Evelyn, Mike, and Adam. All of his children made him proud. We marveled about how special each one was. Randy with his talent for music, performance and technology, Jenni who was the glue who held the family together and was loved by everyone, and Melanie, who is smart, sweet, creative and caring. Bill was grandfather to Ryan, Brandon, Tyler, Jenna, and Nicholas and a huge fan of their cheerleading, sports and theater endeavors.

Bill took the deaths of his parents and daughter Jenni hard. His father was killed instantly in a car accident. Six years later when his mother became very ill and died, it was a huge loss for him. She had always been the most supportive person in his life, and she laughed at his jokes.

When Jenni died suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage, we were all in a kind of shock we never got over. You’re never as vulnerable as you are when you lose a family member.

He was brother-in-law to Ron, Diane, Ruthe and Barry. He had a special bond with each of them. Ron, a kindred spirit, was a comfort while Bill’s mother was dying in the hospital. Diane was always hospitable when we visited, and they laughed together. Ruthe and Barry knew him well enough that they created a song in his honor for his 75th birthday. Best of all, Barry always greeted Bill on our arrival at the Cape — with a glass of Merlot.

Mr. Bill was a loving husband and understood how important family was to me. And he was wonderful about sharing my love of music and theater. He never failed to tell strangers how we met doing Pirates of Penzance in community theater. Our first trip together was magic: We went to England for a symposium and talk he presented in London, and then traveled to Penzance on the southern coast of Cornwall, where he collected a stone from the beach. As a surprise, on Valentine’s Day he gave the stone to me mounted in a shadow box with an engraved plate reading “Penzance, July 1989”. He surprised me again the following year with a stay at a B&B at the shore in Spring Lake for the first birthday of mine that we celebrated together. And, although a serious academic, he was not all nerd: On our honeymoon cruise he dressed up as Dolly Parton for the talent show.

Bill was a professor and educator at Rutgers University for 42 years and never stopped learning. He would often say, “I love going to work and I love coming home.” For 16 or more years, he spent two weeks every summer at the University of Washington’s Friday Harbor Labs in the Puget Sound catching and processing thousands of jellyfish for his pioneering research on green fluorescent protein, a key tool in molecular biology. The research at Friday Harbor played a big role in his award winning green fluorescent protein work and also contributed to his unique jellyfish art. Over the years, in addition to his regular teaching, he taught hundreds of industry professionals with his short courses and designed and instructed a course for gifted and talented pre-college students, many of whom came from out of state for the course.

He always had time for his students. As much as Bill loved his science, he would impress the art part of arts and sciences to the kids. He had a talent show at the end of every summer session where each kid had to do something— sing, dance, recite poetry, tell jokes, do magic. Bill would bring a boom box to class and sing a few songs himself.

He often brought a team of student helpers to Friday Harbor and they would rotate working around the clock catching jellyfish, processing them and then cooking meals and sleeping. It became like a little commune for those two weeks. By the time I came on the scene, Bill was still making the trips to Friday Harbor, but the work wasn’t as intense. I suppose that’s when his mind relaxed enough to allow him to think of jellyfish as art, literally taking a jellyfish and imprinting it on paper. In 2004, Melanie and I accompanied him there for a special symposium that he headed up.

Scientists worldwide joined in. We were given an apartment and entertained casually. My clearest recollections were of a boat trip for all the attendees and a scientist named Neal Stewart playing the guitar in our apartment and everyone singing along. Having the symposium in such a unique setting was brilliant. It brough out the best in everyone.

Bill cared about the environment and regularly donated to ACLU, the Democrats, and Planned Parenthood. He was a music lover and an artist, an avid gardener, a real renaissance man and these are some of the things that we remember him for.

So, although this is the last physical reminder we have of Bill, he has left us rich memories and, without trying, he somehow left behind the things he loved that now are a part of our lives too. The music of Neil Diamond, John Denver, Roger Whittaker, and jellyfish are more a part of us now that he is no longer here to enjoy them.

I promise you Mr. Bill, you were loved and will never be forgotten.

Bill made it known that he wanted the song “Forest Lawn” by John Denver played at his funeral. Play John Denver’s “Forest Lawn.”

One of his favorite songs was “Edelweiss.” Imagine our delight when we had the chance to sing it a few years ago on the Salzburg stage where The Sound of Music was filmed. Please join me in singing the beautiful Rodgers and Hammerstein song “Edelweiss.”